She agrees. “Got it.”
“Larkin and I will enter first, then you behind us, Briar. Whatever we find, we will prepare as best and quickly as we can. In the best-case scenario, they both fell asleep, and the office will be empty. In the worst-case scenario...” He hesitates. “Well, we will deal with that as well.”
“Yara is going to be fine.” I force a smile.
“She will be,” Silas reassures.
We turn and slip into the shadows.
The long stretch of hallway distorts as we move forward. The flicker of lit torches casts unnerving shadows across the walls. My senses are heightened and focused, yet I feel myself seconds away from breaking down. The large stained-glass windows glow in the moonlight, and each step feels heavier, like I’m walking into something far more grim than I know. I glance at Silas and Larkin, their faces expressionless. Both of their eyes are sharp and intensely focused on the task ahead of us, and neither shows an ounce of fear.
As we near the end of the hallway, the large door in front of us remains closed. A crow, the darkest shade of black, stares at us with jeweled eyes that seem to draw in our souls. Larkin presses his ear against the door, leans back, and shakes his head.
“I don’t hear anything,” he mouths.
Silas reaches for the handle, and I fear my heart might break through my chest. I glance at the others, half-convinced they can hear my pounding heartbeat. The latch clicks, and he gentlypushes the wooden door. Silas steps a foot inside the office and pushes against the door harder, revealing only darkness within. Relief rushes through me immediately.
They aren’t here.
Silas turns back, giving us an optimistic yet cautious look, and asks us to keep close.
Larkin trails behind him, glancing in all directions. I look at Maines, who gives me a reassuring nod before positioning herself in the small corner, ready to jump in if needed. We enter the dark office, and it’s silent. The windows are all closed, and the fire was extinguished hours ago. A musty smell fills the air, and we travel farther into the darkness.
“See?” Larkin whispers. “They aren’t here.”
Silas moves across the room to Malachi’s desk and quickly begins to look through the stacked papers. Larkin heads to a nearby bookcase, examining each spine to see if we can find the book that Yara mentioned containing the Rigil. If she isn’t here, she must have returned to her room once Malachi finished with her.
I make a quick mental note to find her tomorrow to get an explanation for standing us up. Even though relief fills me, my hair stands on end, and my senses scream at me to pay attention. The office looks the same as when I first entered. Nothing is out of the ordinary, and nothing seems to be misplaced or disheveled.
I look up at the large painting above his desk that I didn’t notice during my first visit. A family portrait hangs there, and I see Silas as a child—no older than twelve. Instead of a scar above his left eye, a deep wound rests freshly above his swollen, black eyelid. He doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t have the face of a happy child.
My stomach rolls.
I turn and face the fireplace, unable to look at the painting any longer. Only a monster would force a child to sit through that, only days after almost losing their eye. Disgust fills me, and I focus on the area before me, squinting.
A darkness—darker than the other dim pockets in the room—radiates from a chair directly facing the three of us.
I freeze.
An outline of a prominent figure sits in one of the tall chairs, and fear courses through me. I attempt to yell to get Silas and Larkin’s attention, but I’m too stunned to react. I can only stare at what I see.
“Your tattoo is gone,”the dark figure’s voice says, as it slithers into my mind.
Tears begin to well in my eyes.
“It’s a shame the creature didn’t get more of its claws into you,”he hisses. “But, lucky for me, beautiful, I can sink my claws into you just fine now.”
I feel as if a razor-sharp claw drags down my freshly healed wound, and I cringe against the pain, my shoulder blade dipping in response.
The fireplace ignites, quickly filling the room with a bright light that stings my eyes. Silas and Larkin spin and rush toward me as I stand in shock. Malachi reclines in a chair with his legs crossed—as if he’s been waiting for hours. A large, ancient book rests on the table before him, and my eyes widen.
That’s it.
I pan my gaze to the left, and tears roll down my cheeks, noticing the figure on the ground I didn’t see before. Yara lies motionless on the couch beside him. Her white hair pools over the edge of the sofa. Her body seems unharmed, but knowing Malachi, it’s her mind I’m worried about.
Larkin and Silas move around me, like two opposing forces of nature. One pure darkness, the other a brilliant light of protection.
Malachi lets out a deep, haunting chuckle and says, "Hello, boys.”
