The Library After Dark: A Novel(47)

Since Evangeline’s death, I’ve been struck by how similar Death the Maiden and I were, both of us turning up at someone’s deathbed. What if I wasn’t the maiden, but instead the twisted king, and death was coming for me for the fable I’d helped create?

“There might be an open way into the…” Saskia trails off, staring past us. “That wasn’t there before.”

At the far end of the room is an open door, the warm wood curved into graceful columns and acanthus leaf curls, lovely work. And past it, a tall wooden frame is fitted like a second doorframe halfway down the hall.

But instead of a traditional doorjamb above bridging the sides, the slant of a blade gleams wickedly in the flashlight’s beam.





Chapter Thirty


Aria

What the hell.

A startled noise comes from Wes, behind me. “Is that—”

“A guillotine,” Jasper murmurs at my side. His suit melts into the darkness, leaving his head disembodied as he stares down the hallway.

“It’s stained,” Piper says, aghast.

It’s feebly cordoned off by brass poles and a crimson velvet rope, and a cheery yellow sign says Still Under Construction!

“Why the hell would this be put here?” Piper demands. “Like in a doorway, so people actually have to walk under it? Isn’t that a violation of literally a million health things?”

“That guillotine,” Saskia says quietly, “nearly severed the leg off of Hudson Iverson about twenty-five years ago. The Iversons claimed it was attempted murder.”

“That was hearsay,” Callum counters, his tall silhouette rubbing his side where he ran into a case. “Their word against Evangeline’s.”

I definitely do not remember hearing about that. “I thought the Iverson family found The Tales and sold it to Evangeline.”

“Evangeline and Grant Iverson were originally rivals,” Saskia supplies. “Both rose to antiquarian fame around the same time, Evangeline with the Daedalus, Grant with the Iverson Collection, whose crown jewel was The Dark Hearth Tales. They each had something the other wanted: Evangeline wanted The Tales, and Grant wanted all the historical letters and books referencing it.”

“Grant ran the Iverson Collection into the ground,” Wes says, to my surprise. “He sold off most of it, but still had insane amounts of debt. Selling The Tales was a last resort. It dug the family out of debt, and they all buried the hatchet.” Then at Jasper’s hard stare, “What? I’m trying to be helpful. Isn’t that what we should all be doing?”

“I don’t understand why we’re discussing this,” Jasper says. “We can examine the history once we’re out of here.”

“You know a remarkable amount about the Iverson Collection,” Callum observes.

Wes waves both hands. “I have students in antiquarian families. I’ve heard things.”

“Off with their heads,” Michelle murmurs, staring at the guillotine, and I resist the urge to offer my former therapist’s number.

“That’s the only path to the next room,” Jasper says, when she doesn’t expand. “I suggest we continue onward.”

“There is no world where I am walking under that thing while inside a haunted library,” Callum insists. Facing the window, his forehead glitters—sweat. “I won’t do it. Won’t let you all, either.”

“I thought you were all about trying to get out of here,” Wes says.

“In my mind, a guillotine’s a dead end. I’m suddenly interested in setting up camp here till morning comes and someone else rescues us.”

“But there is another door in the Classical Literature section,” Saskia says desperately, stalking forward to the doorway. “Through there.”

“We know where the bathroom is, we have water, we can wait till dawn when the library opens. There’s your solution.”

“It’s closed until the event Monday.”

“But there’ll be workers. Librarians. Faculty. Someone will find us.”

I can’t wait another hour in this infernal place; I need to find the quickest exit possible, alone. There isn’t a way to lock the others in the room, but if I make it through the guillotine first, I might be able to cut the cord…

The hell am I thinking? Someone could get hurt.

It’s a dangerous thought, but the longer I’m in here, the less I care beyond getting out.

“Or we go through it, and try to find another way out,” Piper says, thrusting a karate chop at the doorway. “Can you imagine if that door was open, and we just gave up here?”

“It’s just a guillotine, man,” Wes says, then his face curdles.

“Cal,” Michelle says, looking ill. “I think maybe we’re wrong.”

He twists on his heel to look at her. “Wrong? What do you mean, wrong? About what?”

“The hauntings.” The author’s voice wavers. “The deaths here in the library being paranormal evidence. You only found out about the Daedalus because of what I saw. Didn’t you?”

Wincing, Callum squeezes his forehead, flesh rippling. “It was the first most had heard of it, certainly. The press blew up over it. What does that have to do with it?”