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In the West, I take my final day

And to the East, I offer nothing

From where the wind whispers

Returns all to the fickle sisters

A faint glow consumed the library as his magic swept the area, the library a living thing that appeared to breathe amid the haze.

As I settled into the seat, the ache of all I’d done catching up with me, my belly didn’t hurt further, no twisting pain, no ache.

Hesitantly, I lifted the hem of my shirt and sniffed.

I felt the line beneath my navel—tender but whole. The crotch of my pants? Wet.

Mesmer would never let me live it down.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Zeke

I stared at the crumpled form of my assailant on the floor, nursing his groin despite his face looking like something out of an abstract painting.

Bitty returned, chasing out the smoke and fog that consumed every inch of the library, face far more serious than I’d ever seen, as a tattered and singed book lay in shambles in her arms.

Jess glanced from the man to the book, her face twisted and hard. For all that they presented themselves as playful girls, they were fucking vicious if given the right inspiration.

“Isa.” I stared at the remnants of her journal and reached out for it, taking it from Bitty’s careful grasp. “There’s still a bit of her in here.”

Bitty nodded once. “But not enough.”

Jess knelt and jerked the hat and mask from the man and squeezed his jaw, trying to tilt his face side to side. “Not an archivist.”

The man groaned, nose spluttering congealed blood.

“What did Lex do to the bastard?” Jess sneered and flicked the man’s face away before searching his pockets, finding nothing.

“Kicked him a bunch.” I hadn’t caught all of it, my mind still reeling as my inner alpha snarled at me to find my mate and finish off my enemy.

“He’s pissing blood.” Jess drew her hand back and wiped a hand down her pant leg with a huff. “Christ.”

I shrugged, willing myself to calm enough. “Lex used carmine magic.”

Jess glanced up. “No shit?”

I nodded.

She whistled low and stood, giving the male a kick to his thigh.

“Who sent you?” I stared at the male as his weak hand trembled. “And what are you?”

The droning hum of Mesmer’s instrument spread through the building, breathing life back into the library, rebuilding shelves and drawing back the matter of its form to restore it. My own magic twisted in my chest as the building drew from me, its carcer, like a battery.

When I lent my own voice to the song, the library vibrated, and Jess continued her search of the wounded male. “Pictus.”

I glanced over and down at him, anger boiling over. “Is this over Syl?”

Jess jabbed him. “Well?”