Page 33 of Adam, Mine

“Leave him be,” Jaan replied. “He must be Victor’s.”

Elias looked between both of them and thought of the knives in his coat.

“Victor isn’t here; he left to find a way to undo what he’s done.” Jaan put a hand on the door. “Are you looking for him or are you looking for me?”

Elias peeked through the open door and saw large shelves filled to bursting with books.

“Both, perhaps,” he replied in his new harsh whisper.

Jaan continued to stare at him. Reiner glanced between the two of them, still visibly furious.

“I want . . .” Elias swallowed again: all of this talking was too much for him. He could feel the scabs in his throat crack and bleed.

“Do you know where he has gone?”

Jaan looked back at Reiner. “We should be fine, dear. You may go. Leave . . . leave him a token for his journey.”

Reiner scowled at Elias. “Exit from the front entrance,” he said firmly, then turned on his heel and strode quickly away.

Jaan opened the door to the room with books wider and gestured for Elias to follow him.

Elias had never seen so many volumes in his entire life. He didn’t know that books could have a smell when you got so many of them close to each other like this. He did not feel at ease here, but he paused, breathless, to look at them.

“Are you here to take my life?” Jaan said, settling into a plush armchair and crossing his legs.

Elias narrowed his eyes. “Should I be?” he whispered. “Who are you to him?”

“I am the man who gave him the book. Jaan Sauer,” Jaan confessed. “To be used for study, not application, though I doubt that matters much in the grander scheme.”

“Do you wish to pardon your sins by offering your life?” Elias slid one of Franz’s knives from its hiding place and twirled it, catching the candlelight on the edge of the blade.

Jaan watched it intently. “Perhaps.”

Elias paused, then tucked the blade away.

“I do not yet have children of my own, but I did raise my siblings while my parents worked. I do understand the difference between intention and impact. I can recognize the guilt of inadvertence,” Elias replied dryly. “You’ll have to earn your penance another way.”

Jaan frowned. “If I may ask, how old are you? Who are you?”

Elias tilted his head to the side. What did that matter?

“I have seen eighteen summers. I am Margarite’s child.”

Jaan made a complicated face. “You’re a baby . . . just like him.”

Elias shrugged. “I do not have time for this. I need to know where Victor has gone, and I need the blue book.”

“I cannot give it to you. It’s too dangerous in anyone else’s hands,” Jaan said immediately. “But I can tell you where Victor has gone.”

There was a stack of paper and a pen on the table beside them, in a mess uncharacteristic to the rest of the space. Jaan pushed the papers into a neat stack, then began to write.

“You must tell me out loud when you have finished, so I can remember,” Elias said pointedly.

Jaan looked up at him. “Oh,” he said softly, immediately understanding.

“I will find someone to recite this to me if the memory fades, but I can carry important things for a long while,” Elias insisted, defensive.

Jaan pressed his lips together. His eyes grew shiny and wet, but he did not comment further, to Elias’s relief.