The trio strode from the kitchen in single file and headed deeper into the castle’s inner rooms.
“Actually, I meant the public library!” Bronwen called after them, trotting to keep up as they paced along the snaking stone-walled corridor.
They marched on, venturing into a part the castle where Bronwen had not yet been. They’d crossed into a labyrinth of passageways, lit by dwindling oil lamps. At last, Felix came to a halt in front of a sturdy-looking wooden door.
As he opened it, Bronwen peered over his shoulder. The room was dark and dingy, and coated with a thick layer of dust. Rows of empty bookcases lined the walls, eventually disappearing into the depths of the room.
Gingerly, Bronwen followed the boys inside. “This is the library?” she asked with a frown.
Felix glanced at her. “Technically, yes.”
“Then where are the books?”
He tapped his chin while he pondered it. “They’re not here,” he said at last. “I’m sure we planned to refurbish. But you know what it’s like—life gets busy and you simply can’t find the time.”
“You’ve had centuries!” Bronwen cried. “And, really, how busy could you have been? You don’t even know what the Internet is!”
Felix shrugged.
“Now where will we find a book?” Loki despaired, rising to his tiptoes to peer onto the empty shelves.
“What about the public library?” Bronwen tried again. “They’ve got tons of books. They’re bound to have something that can help us.”
“Maybe the book idea just isn’t going to work, after all,” Felix decided. “Let’s come up with a new plan.”
Bronwen waved her hand in front of his face. “Hello?”
Felix looked at her curiously. “Hello,” he replied.
“The public library!” she exclaimed. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
Loki pursed his lips. “But won’t the public library be… in public?”
“The name implies it, yes,” Bronwen replied.
Alistair’s ruby-red eyes widened. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”
“Me, either,” agreed Loki.
Bronwen sighed. “Being out in public isn’t so bad,” she appeased them. “Felix went to Ada’s cottage, and that worked out fine.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Felix held up his hands. “I’d hardly call that going out in public.”
Alistair and Loki looked expectantly at Felix.
He recoiled from their gaze. “What?” he asked.
“Well,” said Alistair, “you have done this before.”
“And you are the oldest,” Loki added.
“So? What does that have to do with anything?”
The other two boys exchanged a look.
Felix groaned. “Let me save you all the trouble. I nominate myself to go to the public library. Does anyone oppose?” When silence followed, he rolled his eyes. “Very well, on your heads be it if I stumble upon a horrific fate.”
Bronwen smiled.
“And I hope you are all happy,” he added bitterly.
“We are,” said Loki.
“In the morning,” Felix finished. “It’ll be the first thing on my list.” With an ironic smile, he headed back into the corridor.
The sky had turned dark cobalt as dawn crept nearer, and the night time chill still lingered in the air. Back in the living quarters, Bronwen helped Felix ignite the fire while Alistair and Loki retired to their alcoves.
Once a wavering flame had settled upon the logs, Felix brushed off his hands. “There,” he said, satisfied. “That should warm this old room up a bit.” The fire’s light cast pale shadows across his face, catching the lighter amber flecks in his blood-red eyes.
For a second Bronwen felt as though she was seeing his eyes in their true form, in the way they had been before the curse had altered them.
“Your eyes are gold,” she murmured.
Felix looked to the floor. “No,” he replied evasively. “Not anymore.” The subject seemed to make him uncomfortable. “That was a long time ago.”
“Sorry,” Bronwen said as they returned to their beds. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” Felix cut her off. He stood before his alcove. The shattered window let in a stream of cool night air, and the wind whistled through the jagged shards of glass. “I suppose I should board that up,” he said, clearly relieved to have another topic of discussion. “Oh well,” he sighed. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Second thing tomorrow. You see?” He looked pointedly at Bronwen. “There’s no end to my busy life.”
Outside, the silver moon hovered high above the treetops. For a long while they stared at it silently, standing side by side.
“I imagine it’s selfish of me to want,” Felix began, “but I hope for your forgiveness.”
Bronwen glanced at him. “Forgiveness for what?”
“I keep replaying it in my mind,” he went on. “I knew the Severan was in the room. I thought if I waited long enough and intercepted at the precise moment… If it wasn’t for the window being so damn breakable, I probably could have stopped the whole thing.”
“You did everything you could. I told you, I don’t blame you. Besides, I got away, didn’t I? I’m fine.”
Felix inhaled deeply. “Like I said, it won’t happen again.”
Bronwen’s eyes drifted to the floor. “Thanks.”
Felix joined her gaze on the carpet. “Anyway,” he said, “I’ll say goodnight.” He stepped into his alcove and knelt on the heap of blankets. “Although,” he ventured, looking back at her, “if you’d prefer… If you think… You’re welcome to…”
“Welcome to what?”
“If you don’t feel safe, you could always… You can always stay here. In my alcove.” He held his breath, waiting for her response. “With me.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Felix. I’m okay, honestly.”
He watched her take a step away, then called her back. “Snow?”
She turned. “Yes?”
“I think if you slept here tonight, I’d feel better,” he confessed. “I’d sleep easier.”
There was something raw and remorseful in his voice, and she understood it on a level beyond words. Without need for response this time, she crawled into the alcove and sat down beside him.
Felix offered her his blanket and moved his arm around her securely.
And as Bronwen rested her head on his shoulder, comforted by the sound of his breathing, she was met with a profound sense of belonging. She and Felix were the perfect fit; she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
He wound his fingers through her hair until her eyelids grew heavy. And, despite her previous doubts, Bronwen managed to drift into a deep and restful sleep.
****
As Alistair, Loki and Bronwen slumbered undisturbed, only one of the castle’s residents remained wide awake.
Felix.
Perhaps he could have slept if he’d have wanted to. But as he moved his fingers through Bronwen’s hair and felt her breath against his collar bone, he couldn’t bring himself to part with his consciousness.
After all, moments like that came once every two hundred years, and he didn’t want to miss a single second of it.
Chapter Eight
Big Dogs
The following morning, Bronwen awoke in Felix’s alcove. A cool breeze swept in through the broken window, and sunlight cast a rainbow on the fragmented glass.
She sat upright. Felix was nowhere to be seen, and when she peeked over the partition wall, she saw that Alistair and Loki’s beds were empty, too.
Untangling herself from the blankets, Bronwen rose to her feet and set off for the kitchen. The corridor was deserted, as was the courtyard below.
She reached the kitchen and peered around the door. Everything was as they’d left it the night before. Felix’s washing basin was still on the breakfast table, and the pinecones obstinately held their spot on the windowsill. The only difference was that three coffee c
ups had been used and discarded on the countertop.
Bronwen wandered to the sink and turned on the tap. She caught the flow of water in her cupped hands and splashed it onto her face, reviving herself. In the cold light of day, last night felt like nothing more than a bad dream, a nightmare mixed with some good twists. She touched the slightly yellowed bruise on her arm—proof that the Severan’s attack had happened. Then she trailed her fingers up to her shoulder, to the spot where Felix’s hand had tenderly lain.
It all happened, she thought pensively. The good and the bad.
Her gaze wandered to the trees beyond the window, their branches gently swaying in the breeze. She touched her shoulder again. Felix’s imprint, though invisible to the eye, marked far deeper than the Severan’s. Felix’s mark was much more permanent.
The kitchen door swung open, and Bronwen jumped in surprise.
Felix stood in the doorway, and for a brief instant he seemed wistful. He looked at her with reflective fondness, his eyes warm like a sunset.
Bronwen looked away, suddenly flustered. “Where have you been?” she asked.
Her voice seemed to jolt him out of his sentimental state, and he held up a small pinecone.
“There, Snow,” he said, tossing it to her. “Another one for your collection.”
Bronwen caught it. “Thanks,” she replied vaguely, placing it on the counter. Her gaze wandered over him. “You look better.”
Felix prodded his cheekbone in response. He did look better. In fact, the cuts and bruises had more or less completely disappeared.
“It’s a shame the same can’t be said for your clothes,” he responded with a mournful smile.
Bronwen looked down at her jeans and purple top. They are a little creased, but not that bad, she thought.
“Not those clothes,” Felix amended, catching her expression. “I mean the rest of your clothes. The ones we used to attract the Severan.” He paused. “Which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.”
Bronwen braced herself for the worst. “Felix, the clothes?” she prompted.
“Well, it rained last night. And with the rain came the mud…”
Bronwen groaned.
“Don’t worry, Loki has promised to wash them. They’ll be as good as new by this afternoon, you’ll see.”
She tried to look grateful, but doubted she was very convincing. “Oh well,” she submitted. “I’ll just have to go to town in what I’m wearing.”
“Hold on a minute,” Felix said, frowning. “Who said anything about going into town?”
“You did. Last night.”
Felix rolled his eyes. “You’re not still bleating on about that public library, are you?”
“Yes. It’s a good idea. Also, I want to pass by the cottage to let Ada know that I’m okay.”
Felix’s frown lines deepened. “Whoa. One thing at a time. How about we visit Ada today, and leave the library until—”
“We can do both,” Bronwen pointed out. “Ada’s cottage isn’t far from the library. And we really should find out everything we can about the Severan as soon as possible.”
“All I’m saying is, let’s not overload ourselves with tasks.”
Bronwen folded her arms. “Don’t think I can’t see right through you. You’re trying to worm your way out of going to the library because you’re too afraid of people.”
He snorted. “Bronwen Snow, that’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Then give me one good reason why we can’t go to the library.”
“I’ll give you ten,” Felix scoffed.
“Give me one.”
He pursed his lips in response.
“That settles it, then,” Bronwen determined. “We’ll go this morning. We can pass by Ada’s on the way back.”
Felix’s mouth turned down sulkily. He gazed at her from beneath his thick eyelashes. “Let’s go tomorrow,” he suggested, fixing her with fawn eyes and a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile. “Pretty please.”
“No.”
“Why not?” he bemoaned.
“Because by tomorrow there’ll be another excuse.”
Felix scowled.
She stared back at him with a steely gaze. Something told her this was going to be a long morning.
****
By the time Bronwen and Felix reached town, the winter sun was high and bright. It was still early, so the streets were relatively empty. But even so, when they crossed beyond the refuge of the wooded hills, Felix came to an abrupt halt. He stood rigid, his eyes flickering along the cobbled street.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered.
Bronwen tried to suppress her smile. “It’s okay, Felix. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid, Snow,” he snapped. “A person can dislike something without it being deemed a phobia, can’t they?”
She gave him a little shove, discreetly guiding him along the dusty pavement.
“No,” he mumbled to himself, “I don’t like this at all. Not one bit.”
Bronwen let out a little laugh. “Felix, please. No one will even look twice at you. You’ll blend in with everyone else around here; you look like any other normal boy.” She glanced at him quickly. “Well, sort of.”
Felix was dressed in his usual smart attire, and his raven hair was swept to the side, the locks curving around his compellingly handsome face.
“There are far too many people here,” Felix griped. “It’s making me feel claustrophobic.”
Bronwen observed the street. It was practically deserted. Most of the shops hadn’t even opened yet. And those that were open were empty of customers.
“There are no people!” she exclaimed.
“On your right,” Felix said under his breath.
They passed a shop front boasting a huge sign that read Home & Dry Laundrette Service. Bronwen peeked inside. The boxy room was crammed with washing machines, and a balding man in his forties busied himself sweeping the blue tiled floor. He looked up and nodded a greeting.
“Good morning,” Bronwen returned, smiling politely at him.
“A friend of yours?” Felix asked once they were out of earshot.
“Nope.”
“You were certainly acting friendly.”
“It’s called good manners.”
Felix made a noise. “Ha. I suppose you reserve those for perfect strangers, then.”
Bronwen turned down a side street. At the end of the street, a domed beige building stood amongst neatly pruned hedges.
“There,” she said as they approached it. “We made it to the library. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She let herself in through the black iron gates.
Felix mumbled a few incoherent comments as they walked along the gravelled pathway to the entrance, and then through the double glass doors.
The library was a split-level new build, with taupe carpeting and dozens of plastic tables and chairs arranged sporadically amidst the bookcases.
Felix cast his eyes to the floor while Bronwen reacquainted herself with the layout. It had been a while since her last visit, but she knew that the more specialised subjects were stocked on the first floor.
“Upstairs,” she whispered.
They strode towards the wide staircase. At the far wall, a mousey librarian sat behind the main desk. She was a slim-figured brunette in her late thirties, with wire-rimmed glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. She eyed Bronwen and Felix as they passed her post, then resumed sorting through a trolley of well-worn books.
“Who is she?” Felix demanded.
“The librarian,” Bronwen explained.
“Can we trust her?”
Bronwen smiled to herself. “I’m going to say yes.”
At the foot of the staircase, there was a rectangular table where four girls sat surrounded by open books and sheets of paper. As Bronwen and Felix passed, the girls glanced up from their work.
“Who are they?” Felix asked in a hushed voice.
<
br /> Bronwen took hold of the handrail as they ascended the staircase. “I don’t know,” she said. “Probably students.” The girls seemed chic and trendy with their tunic-style dresses and teased hair. As Bronwen caught sight of their flawless make up and fashionable accessories, she was suddenly aware of just how dowdy she must have looked in comparison.
Maybe I should have gone home to change first, she thought, scrutinising the mud stains on her jeans.
She watched as the girls’ eyes landed on Felix and a Mexican wave of smiles formed on their rosebud lips.
Bronwen sucked in her breath sharply. Oh my god, she thought in dismay. They’re checking him out!
“What’s the matter?” hissed Felix, narrowing his eyes at Bronwen’s disconcerted expression.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. She picked up her pace and hurried up the rest of the steps, brushing off the searing jealousy that brewed within.
As luck would have it, the upper floor was completely empty. It was set up similarly to the ground floor, except on this level, the tables were clustered together and the bookcases were lined up in rows like an orchard of books.
“Okay,” Bronwen began, “we need a strategy. Why don’t you take the Local Legends section, and I’ll take Ancient Myths and Demonology.”
“Okay.” Felix clapped his hands together. “Now, what does that mean?”
Bronwen steered him towards an aisle. “You go that way,” she instructed.
“Ah, yes. Right you are.” He walked on, a little uncertainly.
“Felix!” Bronwen called after him. He glanced back at her. “Pick out books,” she told him, just in case it wasn’t clear. “Any books that might be relevant.”
A flicker of understanding crossed over his face. “Yes. Of course. I knew that.”
Bronwen set off in the opposite direction, skimming the shelves of dusty volumes. The air smelled faintly of paint combined with aged paper, and the carpet underfoot was coarse like Astroturf. Somewhere hidden behind the tall bookcases she could hear Felix whistling to himself.
She smiled, feeling a swell of warmth in her heart.
“Felix,” she called, not really having anything in particular to say.
“Yes, dear?” he called back.
Bronwen smiled again. “The library’s not so bad, is it?”