Page 107 of Florescentia

The entire house began to shake, just like the night Altair appeared. I stumbled halfway up the stairs, clawing at the steps to get to the next floor.

The beast produced a haunting wail, sharp in my ears as it came up behind me. I didn’t look back, but I heard the picture frames along the walls shatter one by one as it knocked them off.

I made it to the library without sparing a second glance back. I bolted the doors, knowing the locks weren’t going to hold.

I looked around, desperate for something to assist.

“Obscuria!” I shouted, placing my palms on the doors to brace for impact.

I waited—but nothing came. Not a knock, not even a whisper.

Did I do it?

My heart was pounding, threatening to burst.

I glanced down; the light from the other side of the door waned, a shadow moving in front of it.

Then, small tendrils reached beneath.

A sudden lurch of the wood, small splinters sounding as they rammed into the doors.

I screamed, holding the doors with all my weight.

“Altair!” I shouted, assuming he would be my last line of defense.

“I was wondering if you were going to handle this all on your own.” He was in human form, sitting in one of the reading chairs. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you about inviting things.”

“Help me!” I demanded.

“Not with that attitude.”

“It will eat me if you don’t,” I hissed, more thuds bouncing me against the doors. They weren’t going to hold much longer.

“You shouldn’t have called it in the first place.” He stood, then wandered to the back of the library like he was surveying for his next read. “This is a good time to test your abilities. A little bit of pressure.”

“Where are you going?” I yelled, turning to press my back to the doors.

“Well, it seems this is the end now, isn’t it?” He raised a brow. “You wanted to look for your dearly departed. Dying seems like an almost foolproof plan.”

“You are useless!” I screamed.

“And you don’t listen,” he chastised. “You use those poor Peculiars like tools. You forget that these things are living, and opening the otherworld so often brings much unwanted attention. Not to mention appetites.”

The doors were beginning to break. Splintering wood littered the floor and dusted my shoulder. “This thing is a Peculiar?”

“A rather large one,” he said with a nod, watching in amusement as I struggled. He looked up at the doors, smirking as the frame made a hard cracking sound.

“And this . . . came from the Otherside?” I panted.

“Yes, that’s what I just said.” He met my eyes with annoyance.

There it was. That was my answer.

His face fell, seeing my shift.

I held the doors for one more moment, then let go, running toward him.

He almost seemed alarmed. We crashed into each other, and he gripped my shoulders. For a moment, it was like he couldn’t read me. Like I was a stick of dynamite tossed at him.