Nephilim, dead.
I was there, and Lola wasn’t waiting for me in my bed, so I could at least try and do some more digging.
But there was nothing.
Was everything we had about this in Arc’s room and not documented here?
Fuck, that was shady.
I hated the turn that this whole thing was taking.
“Maggie?” I tried, rolling a couple of feet away from the computer. “You there?”
Silence. She had to be around here though, she said so herself; she couldn’t leave this place.
“Since you seem to be all-knowing, anything interesting on Nephilims ending up dead over the last centuries or so?”
There was a shuffle in a faraway row. Okay…Did I get her attention? Did she know about something? Was she about to reveal something and give me the missing piece of the puzzle? Was—
The keyboard clicked.
Once.
Twice.
Stopped.
A simpleNo, was written on the screen. I frowned.
“Really? For a second there, I thought you’d actually be helpful.”
That was a low blow, but she did her best work when she was annoyed, always finding the hidden books when I taunted her and riled her up.
Astrals.Read journal.
“Ugh, Iknowyou want me to read that damn journal, but I’m asking about something different here. Nephilims. Like Dimitri? The white hair guy, surely you remember him.”
It typed again and my fingers drummed on the edge of the desk, waiting as I stared at the words appearing slowly on the screen.
Don’t know Nephilims. Know Astrals.
I was wasting my time. She knew nothing about the issue at hand, and she was obsessed with Astrals. Might have been why she hid all the knowledge this place had about them. But why give it to Lola and now me, then? I needed to get to that damn journal.
I groaned and got up, leaving the Archives, purposely dragging my feet.
Three. Two. One.
I dodged the pencil thrown my way with a smirk.
“Sopredictable,” I said, looking over my shoulder with a grin. She hated when I dragged my feet.
Margaret didn’t attack again and two minutes later, I was out of the City Hall. The streets were quiet—as one would expect that late at night. We might have been Immortals, but even bloodthirsty Vampires or murderous werebeasts had jobs and a sleep schedule. All of us were getting old, after all.
I was nearly at my door when a whisper reached me and I froze, turning to inspect the empty space around me. What the Heavens was that? There was no other sound, only the weak plea scratching at me from inside my skull. My eyes narrowed.
“Help him,” it kept repeating.
“Help who?” I asked in a low voice to myself.
