Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(41)
“Sure,” Michelle said. “I’ll go.”
“I need to work on my homework, and write a paper,” Leda said, giving Camille a perplexed look, as if she still couldn’t figure this situation out, and motioning to the five open books and three scrolls on the table around her. “It’s due tomorrow. I’ll be working on it all night.” Leda turned her back on us as if we didn’t exist anymore.
“Can I meet you there?” I asked, remembering the purpose behind my visit to the library. “I need to look something up.”
“Sure.” Camille shrugged. “We’ll see you there, Bianca,”
I started for the back corner, motivated by the promise of the sweet drink. A collection of maps covering the walls of a quiet little nook soon caught my eye. Most of them had decayed, written with ink on old pieces of leather, showing the boundaries of Antebellum before the Networks formed. I reached out to run my finger along the side of one particular map and heard a deliberate harrumph. One of the pesky librarians stood behind me, her arms folded across her chest.
“Sorry,” I whispered, eyeing the Absolutely No Touching sign above the map and smiling sheepishly.
Several long skinny drawers lay below the wall maps. I grabbed the tarnished brass knob on the one marked Western Network and tugged on it. The librarian, seeing that I gave no further signs of subterfuge or destruction, moved on.
Alone now, I pulled all the maps from the drawer and spread them on the only table in this lonely part of the library. Their burned edges left a smudge of black on my hands, and the rest had aged into a golden yellow. They all showed the vast desert sands of the West. Only four cities really thrived there, aside from the capital Custos. It sat in the middle, a heart for the emptiest Network in Antebellum. There was no map of Custos as a city. Due to the violent changes in weather, Custos evolved constantly, making it almost impossible to peg down. The only stable thing there was the Arck, and even it was built into the red rock mountain.
“There you are,” I whispered as I came across an old, hastily drawn map of the Arck. The lines of the map were so faint I could barely make them out, but I saw what I thought would be Miss Mabel’s chambers. I shuffled to the next scroll and found a few rooms on the floor above Miss Mabel’s. There was no label indicating what they were, but their small size made me think they were the maids’ quarters.
Whenever I decided to go, I would try to transport somewhere near Miss Mabel’s room, but not in it. That much precision would be tricky, as I’d never been to any other part of the Arck before, not to mention the question of my unrefined transportation skills. The risk that I could land at any random point in the Arck and be discovered by a West Guard made me shudder.
Don’t even think about failing, I told myself with a bolstering exhale. Just do what you have to do.
I pushed the drawer closed, wincing when it shut with a loud crack. Leaving before the librarian could scold me, I walked out into the main aisle and passed Leda’s table. An empty chair remained, her scrolls neatly stacked and her books organized into several clean, even piles the same height. I stared at the vacant seat, puzzled. Didn’t she have a paper to write?
With a shake of my head, I brushed it off. I’d have a private chat with her later. I left the library with the slow simmer of my powers burning inside, always ready, always waiting.
???
“Come on!” Merrick called over the sound of my gasping breath. “You’re faster than this!”
My legs flew down the dark trail, whizzing past gargantuan tree trunks and blankets of lush moss, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Merrick stayed close on my heels, barely out of breath. He knew he was already pushing me beyond my physical limits. What he didn’t know about was the bubbling volcano of magic raging in my chest, threatening to explode.
Don’t think about Mama. Don’t think about Mama, I chanted in my head. The memories pressed on me as they always did, but I wouldn’t give them the space they desired.
“Keep it up,” he called. “We’re going farther than yesterday. We have to hit the hill and make it to the top.”
Farther than yesterday, I thought, switching mantras. Farther than yesterday. Yesterday we ran this same route, but a vision of Mama twirling me in the air on my fifth birthday stopped me at the bottom of a hill. No matter how hard I had tried, I couldn’t get past her. She stayed in the air ahead of me, giggling with an apparition of me as a young child. So I’d given up again. I’d turned around and left without an explanation, frustrated, out of breath, and lightheaded. Merrick said nothing about it or my fit from several days before. I sensed he was trying to give me space to work it out, but I wasn’t sure I was even trying.
Farther than yesterday.
Yes. I can do it. I can be stronger than the magic. If I ignore the pain long enough, it’ll go away.
The hill Merrick spoke of appeared in a break of the trees, looming like an ugly monster. I expected to see the glimpses of white, to hear the giggle on the breeze, but nothing met me but silent, quiet air. It was as if the trees themselves waited. High above, in the top of the canopy, a few black streaks painted the tree trunks in thick stripes. The leaves had withered, leaving broken bald spots.
Dragons, I thought, then leapt a large boulder, tucking my feet beneath me. The nimble movements had become second nature again, although they brought me little joy. I spent too much time fighting the memories to appreciate the inertia of moving across the ground.