VENEFICA

[10] Fragmented Answers

Everyone knew the stories of the nightmares that haunted people into a never-ending sleep. No one knew the truth. Each history book, grimoire, and creature encyclopedia gave numerous amounts of illogical and contradictory information on the subject. Some saying nightmares were just a bad dream triggered by an intense emotional response to a change in body chemistry. Others stated that nightmares took the form of large female stallions galloping round and round in a person's subconscious until their minds break with insanity. The only commonality was that most sources claimed nightmares were a form of powerful magic. A force so strong it could only be both summoned and truly vanquished by the most masterful of magicians. Elves, with their unique biological ability, could indeed exorcise the creatures to exorcise them from their hosts, but only the magician that called out the nightmare could finish it off for good. 

The clock read 9 PM. Abelle and Claire sat at a large table under the library's golden glow and complied with every book they could find mentioning the word "nightmare" in the text. Over fifty books sat on the table, either flipped open with dog-eared pages or stacked onto each other in a standby "read next" pile. Twenty more books laid on the floor. Each girl furiously skimmed their pages. "I'm sure of it, Abelle. That man said 'nightmare.' Mix that with Volk being so secretive about Lily's miraculous recovery, I bet you that's what it was." Claire underlined a passage and handed her book to Abelle. "It's been an hour, where's everyone else?" She asked, specifically looking for Mystic and Elora.

Abelle twirled her lavender pen between her fingers."They are going to do their own research." She gave off a slight shrug and copied Claire's underline passage into her notebook, leaving a space for Mystic's pale blue markings to finish writing themselves in the space above.

"She hates me. Doesn't she?" Claire watched Abelle's eyes cautiously avert the question. The subject was treading into dangerous waters. One wrong utterance and everything Claire worked on to establish some sort of relationship with Abelle could be pulled out in a riptide, forever lost at sea.

"She...just doesn't know you. That's all." 

"She absolutely hates me. I don't get it. What did I do that was so wrong? I only wanted to help. To be honest, I feel a bit guilty. Like, maybe this stuff somehow is all my fault."

The air went still. A paleness flushed over her face. "Or it's just some random unfortunate coincidence," Abelle suggested. She grabbed another book off the top of the "too read" pile. It was bound in dark blue leather with deckled edges. It released a cloud of brown dust and dirt into the air as Abelle opened to the appendix. "We've been doing this for a while" she coughed. "Want to grab something to eat?"

Claire nodded. It was nice being genuinely invited to partake in something as simple as eating together. The chair skidded across the floor as she pushed it in place. She picked up some of the more immediate books and started to walk them back to the metal reshelving cart by the front desk. 

"Apage!" Abelle whispered into her ring. With a flick of the wrist, every book the girls took out began flying around the room, back to their original shelf. The heavier ones flew a bit closer to the ground, but nevertheless still managed to return to their rightful place in the library. The weight of the encyclopedia in Claire's arms disappeared as each volume lifted into the air. Abelle smiled. The magic was just a way to cheekily show off her talents. Normally she would never do a spell that included so much visual showmanship around the others, but for some odd reason, she felt safe to do it around Claire. She pushed in her chair and waited for Claire to join her by the exit. 

The dining hall was nearly empty. By this time of night, most of the student body had already grabbed their dinner for the day, and only a few stragglers were lifting sitting in their seats eating savoring the last bits of their meal. Claire and Abelle cleared a small area on the table next to the buffet stand. The end of the day platters were left with only trace amounts of the dishes of the day, burnt broccoli bits and smothered in cold grease and the thinnest roasted chicken leg. The main cooking staff had left for the night, so leftover scraps were the best they could find. Abelle grabbed the last clean metal water pitcher and two glasses. The smell of fresh roasted chicken filled the air as Thomas Reed, with a blood bag in one hand and a plate full of hot food in the other, walked by. Claire waved to him. "How is she?" she asked.