The shelves ran from the floor to the ceiling, and were so stuffed with books, several had fallen out and fluttered invitingly by my feet. The building was twisting, too, almost like a flowing river as it meandered around obstructions in its path.
Atop the various wall-to-wall bookcases were lights. Except these were no ordinary lamps. They weren’t $10 LEDs from the hardware store. Nope, they were mushrooms. Luminescent mushrooms.
You might think this made the entire place look like some cheesy drawing from a kids’ fairy book. It didn’t. The mushrooms had little luminescent caps that reminded me of Tiffany style lamps, and the light they shone was organic, mysterious. It was erratic, lighting up different books in turn almost like a spotlight searching for an item of interest.
I’d seen a lot in this magical world, and to be honest, most of it was unpleasantly gritty. Every time I closed my eyes, it was a struggle not to remember that moldered, blood-covered plastic in Fagan’s warehouses. Heck, I could even smell that awful, faintly acrid scent. I swore it had scoured holes in my nostrils.
But this, this kind of reminded you that there had to be a good side to magic.
As I turned around another meandering corner in the library, I found Bridgette. She was lounging back in a gold and blue, sumptuous wingback chair. Several long, elegant fingers were tapping the carved arms as she pondered a book in her lap.
As soon as she saw me, a pronounced grin spread across her red lips.
She bounced out of the chair. “You were quick. What do you need to discuss, anyway?” Though at first a friendly grin had spread across her face, now her brows knitted together in worry.
I may have only known Bridgette for several weeks, but she was already pretty good at reading me.
I pressed my lips together and shrugged. “I need your help. And to be honest, I’m not exactly sure where to start.”
Bridgette spread her arm to the left, indicating the chair.
I sat in it glumly, running my bottom lip through my teeth. Though I was absolutely determined to find out everything about Max that I could, I wasn’t an idiot. If he found out what I was doing – turning to Bridgette to snoop on him – he wouldn’t exactly be pleased. And wouldn’t that be a slap in the face for him considering only this morning he’d stared endearingly into my gaze and asked me to trust him.
I hardened my jaw against the thought. I needed answers.
So I opened up.
“Don’t get me wrong – I trust Max. Of course I do,” I said breathlessly, and there was precious little I could do to control my tone.
By now, Bridgette had literally pulled a chair out of the wall. Though there hadn’t been a recess there, she’d just plucked up one of the books, and, removing it from the shelf, another of those wingback chairs had appeared. She sat down, folding her long limbs in.
At the mention of Max, the underside of her jaw hardened. Her brow was still smooth, her eyes still open and alert, but anyone trained in reading facial expressions would be able to see her concern.
I kept fidgeting with my hands. “I trust him,” I repeated, mostly for my own benefit, mostly to prove to myself that my voice didn’t waver as I said the word trust. “But…”
“But you know nothing about him,” Bridgette jumped in.
I jerked my gaze up to meet hers. Slowly, I nodded.
She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. For several seconds, she wouldn’t make eye contact. “I won’t be able to tell you much, not as much as you want to hear, anyway,” she answered. “To be honest, I’ve always been slightly suspicious of Max’s relationship with Sarah Anne.”
At that admission, my stomach kicked. One of those powerful, lurching movements that make you wonder whether you’ll throw up.
I managed to hold on to the contents of my stomach. I did not, however, manage to slow my suddenly thundering heart.
Bridgette looked up and shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. There’s never been anything between Sarah and Max, that I know of,” she added with a shrug. “There’s never been anything between Max and anyone that I know of. He’s too private, too mysterious. When your grandmother was still alive, he never left her side, only went out into the wider magical world when she needed to hunt something down. And that,” Bridgette raised her gaze and locked it on me once more, “is weird. Don’t get me wrong, magical bodyguards – especially fairies – are loyal. That’s part of the contract. But Max’s loyalty…” she trailed off, suddenly staring at her fingers instead.
“Loyalty what?” I pressed forward onto the very edge of my seat. Any further, and I’d tumble onto the floor. I didn’t care, though. By god, I needed some frigging answers, and I needed them now. It wasn’t just the sound of the pounding rain that managed to pierce even the walls of this magical library. It wasn’t just the ominous sense that had filled the city streets as I’d driven through town. It was everything. Every damn thing that had happened to me since the day I inherited my grandmother’s house and her curse.
Bridgette obviously sensed my growing desperation, because she pressed her lips together and shot me a subdued smile.
“Magical fairies are a lot of things, but they are usually not as loyal as Max is. Nor are they as connected to their charges,” Bridgette added, her voice dropping conspicuously low.
My stomach ignited with nerves. I fidgeted with my hands until it felt
