Page 52 of Professor and the Seer
“I wouldn’t call that work. Being with you is pure pleasure, vixen. And I don’t just mean the sex, which was epic. You have a brilliant mind, and I am incredibly happy that you didn’t look at this room and roll your eyes.”
“This archive is amazing.”
“Not everyone would think so.”
“Then they’re dumb,” I stated.
“They are,” he agreed with a laugh. “I can’t wait until we’re done here so I can get you home and show you how wonderful you are. Let me get these images running against the databases, and then we’ll go to the cafeteria for some lunch. If we’re lucky, by the time we’re done, it will have a hit for us.” He dropped a kiss on my lips that left me breathless before he departed.
I might have felt lonely if he’d not deserted me in a place with books—my favorite thing—with a promise of pleasure for later. Maybe I was still dreaming.
He’d not closed the door to the archive, and yet none of the students came poking their noses. I don’t know if I’d have been as restrained.
I paced the bookcases, eyeing the spines. Many of them were blank, but a few had words etched in gold leaf and ink, some burned right into the leather. The languages varied, and yet I could read a few if I trailed my fingers on them.
Mary’s Book of Herblore.
The Care and Feeding of Lamia.
How to Neuter a Centaur.
I had to admit to not being impressed by most and had to wonder why anyone thought they needed to be locked away. It was in the third stack that my trailing fingers paused on a slim tome, the outer layer of it a slick brown material. Not skin, but not something I could identify either. The book had no title, and yet when I touched it even briefly, I got a tingle.
Would John be mad if I pulled it for a peek? It wasn’t in the cabinet; therefore, it shouldn’t be dangerous.
Before I could truly decide, I held it in my hand, the cover of it smooth and displaying no lettering. Opening it showed a blank page. Then another. I flipped through it and found no writing. How odd. Why have an empty book tucked in the archive?
As I went to put it back, a noise drew my attention. John must have returned. I slid out from my spot between the bookcases, only to stop dead as I realized I remained alone. Alone with a mirror that had lost its covering. The fabric that hung over its cracked surface lay puddled on the floor.
Of more concern? The way the air in front of the mirror shimmered as if getting hot. A second later, I could feel the heat radiating from it, leading to me creeping backwards for the exit, only I miscalculated and my back hit the wall a few feet from the edge of the archway out.
Wide-eyed, I stared as the mirror rippled, pieces of it falling and puffing into tiny gray clouds that hung in the air before coalescing into a ball of blue fire. When the last of the shards had evaporated, the hovering sphere of blue crackled and pulsed.
Not good. I managed to turn my back only a second before it exploded, not so much with a blast as a shockwave of energy. It rocked me, and I shut my eyes, my fingers digging into the book I still held.
Silence followed, and I dared to peek over my shoulder. The empty mirror frame appeared innocuous. I saw no blast damage. Thank goodness, as I didn’t want to explain to John how the archive got destroyed. I’d seen how much he loved this place.
Tap.
The noise had me holding my breath. Could be something rocked in the esoteric explosion was settling back into place.
Scritch.
A shiver went through me as I realized the sound came from the locked cabinet of evil things.
Tap. Tap. Scritch.
I hugged the book to my chest as if it would protect me from the spookiness as I inched for the doorway. No way would I get close or touch or have anything to do with what wiggled around inside.
The cabinet quieted. Maybe this kind of thing was normal.
The doors of it burst open and expelled a cloud of darkness.
Oh hell no. I threw myself into the doorway, tome clutched to my chest, racing from whatever tried to escape the cabinet. I made it one step outside the archive into the library where magic wasn’t muffled and found myself flung into a vision.
16
Most visions, I’m on the outside, seeing what’s happening. I’ll touch someone and see the paths they could take, key moments at any rate. More recently, even simple proximity will do it, showing me the future, or futures, of that person or object.