If they were to get caught out of their House this late, they’d be in trouble. Worse: if they were to get caught in the restricted section of the library, they would be expelled. Loren tried not to dwell on this fact, instead reminding herself that Darien needed those books—thatSabrineneeded those books. If they couldn’t figure out why the Darkslayers were after Loren, and what that scroll said about the Arcanum Well, they might never get Sabrine back.
When they reached the entrance to the restricted section, they remembered the poltergeist that guarded the rows of dusty bookshelves. The Staring Teenager, the students called the apparition—a student who’d died on campus hundreds of years ago. Some said he killed himself; others claimed he was murdered.
Dallas created a diversion by tossing an empty bottle of Morpheun tonic across the room. The glass pinged against the walls and shelves, and the phantom slipped through the aisles after it at lightning-speed.
“Pays to never clean out your purse,” Dallas hissed into Loren’s ear, her breath giving her chills. They crept into the restricted section, lit only by dripping candles suspended in the air by magic. They kept their footsteps light, for although they were invisible, there were some things they couldn’t hide.
They scanned the book spines until they found the tomes on Ancient Reunerian, the section so small it was almost nonexistent. There was only one book worth their time—a tome bound in a type of leather Loren hoped wasn’t as human as it felt. She knew enough Reunerian to tell it was a volume on the language itself—more specifically, a learner’s guide.
“This is exactly what we need.” She plucked the book off the shelf. “Darien’s—”
“Entering the restricted section is an act punishable by expulsion, girls.” Loren nearly screamed at the sound of the headmaster’s voice cutting through the quiet. Beside her, Dallas whirled on a heel, hand flying to her throat.
Loren did a doubletake at Dallas, realizing the spell had worn off sometime these past few minutes. “Headmaster,” Loren gritted out, heart thundering in her chest. “You scared us.”
“If you wanted to look at the books,” the headmaster said, his face grave, “all you needed to do was put your name down on the request form.” His gaze became accusatory as he looked at the book Loren was gripping to her chest. “You weren’t really planning on stealing the book. Were you, girls?”
Dallas’s voice tumbled over Loren’s as they stammered, “No, Headmaster. Of course not.” Loren added, “We were just…,” she paused to gulp, “looking.”
He didn’t buy it. “These books are kept here by enchantment; not one of them may leave this section of the library without my authorization. Everything outlined in academy regulations says I should expel you.” Behind the headmaster, the Staring Teenager floated by with a chuckle, eye-sockets like stones pushed into his transparent face.
Loren’s gaze fell to the floor, but she didn’t offer up the book. If Langdon wanted it, he would have to pry it from the fingers of her dead body.
The headmaster said, “I’m curious as to why you two have an interest in learning a dead language.”
Loren struggled for an excuse that might be somewhat believable, but all her tongue could manage was an indecipherable stammer. Langdon knew every course and subject taught at this school, so lying about a project would do them no good.
But Dallas piped up. “We found an old diary that belonged to my grandfather,” she said. “I’d love to be able to read what it says, Headmaster. I never had the chance to meet him.”
The headmaster’s eyes settled on Loren for so long, she began to squirm. But he said, “I’ll allow you to check the book out of the library for two weeks. When those two weeks are up, there will be no need for you to physically return it; it will teleport itself back to the shelf.”
“Thank you, Headmaster,” Loren said. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Back to the House of Salt with you two.” He turned on a heel and walked away. “I don’t want to see you in this section of the library again, or youwillbe expelled.”
Gripping the book to her chest, Loren smiled in triumph as they hurried back to the House of Salt.
—
The rest of Loren’s week dragged by horribly slowly, and there were three reasons for this.
The first reason, though certainly not the most important, was because each day was made worse by having to cover up her bandaged arms and legs with academy sweaters and the itchy uniform pants she detested.
The second reason was because she hated that another week had passed and Sabrine was still missing, the mystery of the Master Scroll no closer to being deciphered than before she and Dallas had found that book.
The third reason the week had dragged by was a slayer named Darien Cassel.
It was rare when Loren saw Darien on a weekday, so she found herself looking forward to the weekends now more than ever. She knew this wasn’t a good thing—for too many reasons. But she still checked her phone every chance she got; still found herself texting him even when there was nothing to say except maybe a simpleHow are you?orWhat are you up to?
He always answered, even if it took him several hours, so she figured he must not dislike talking to herthatmuch. She tried not to read into it, but like everything else that involved not thinking about, talking about, or talkingtoDarien, she failed horribly.
After what happened at Kyle’s tattoo parlour, she wasn’t the only one who was now constantly wearing a talisman around her neck. The other Devils wore them as well as a precaution—in case the twins had called in what they’d learned at Diablo to their elusive boss before the Devils had caught up with them. This mission was starting to get very,veryexpensive. But if Loren let herself think about it for too long, guilt would swallow her heart whole.
Another thing that was making her guilt extra heavy today was the fact that the Devils were now sharing watch duty outside the school. And starting this weekend they would alternate sitting in their vehicles in the alley behind Mordred and Penelope’s while Loren worked. No one complained about it, at least not within earshot of Loren. Not even Lace, though she was rarely assigned watch duty. Still, Loren felt terrible for taking up so much of their valuable time.
This past Tuesday, watch duty had been assigned to Maximus, and Loren had met him outside the gates of the academy to give him the book on Ancient Reunerian so he could pass it along to Darien. Loren would be lying if she said she hadn’t been hoping Darien would be on watch duty that day, but every day of the week had been assigned to every Devil except him. She knew it wasn’t anything personal, and the gods knew he needed a break every now and then. But she couldn’t help but wish she could see him on more than just weekends.
When Friday arrived, Loren had Phipps’s class as her final period. Her vision was suddenly spinning, the wounds in her arms burning as the professor droned on and on. Thoughts of Sabrine knifed through her skull and right down to her heart, making the floor beneath her feet spin. She was a horrible friend for even letting her thoughts deviate from Sabrine for so much as a minute. Sab could be dead or dying right now, and Loren was sitting here crushing on a slayer.
