Page 76 of An Arcane Education
All four of them look at me with a mixture of concern, pity, and fear, but they stay silent and follow me to the dance floor regardless.
We get lost in the music again, and I manage to pretend to relax, but the Oracle’s words echo in my mind.Five shall gather where five once stood. That has to mean us, doesn’t it? The five of us? And what did she mean about strengths being revealed in weakness?
I push the thoughts away and attempt to focus on the present moment. Whatever the Oracle saw, whatever darkness she spoke of, it's not here yet. So for now, I’m going to dance.
CHAPTER 31
The library is nearly empty on this gray November afternoon. Most students are likely still in their rooms nursing hangovers after last night’s Samhain festivities, but after the unsettling prediction from the Oracle last night, I’d stopped drinking. I was wide awake by seven this morning even with the late night of dancing followed by tossing and turning, so I decided to make the most of my time by getting some work done before preparation for finals begins.
I'm tucked into my usual spot on the third floor, surrounded by textbooks and notes, trying to make sense of the complex relationship between lunar cycles and plant growth patterns when a familiar voice comes from behind me.
“Why are you not relaxing like the entire rest of the campus?”
AJ slides into the seat next to me. He looks disheveled, his blonde hair sticking up in different directions and dark circles staining the underside of his eyes.
“Because I didn’t drink last night. Though, I imagine you can’t say the same…” I add, making a point to look him up and down.
He flashes me a sheepish smile and sinks into the seat beside me. “You got me there. Fae wine is dangerous stuff, but damn, is it good. Even Mitchell had some, and he’s usually got so much of a stick up his ass he won’t indulge inanythingfun.”
“Yeah, I learned my lesson about Fae wine the hard way a few weeks ago.”
He nods in understanding. “So if you didn’t drink last night, why do you seem so down?”
Sighing, I decide to tell him about the Oracle’s reading last night, though I leave out most of the specifics, only telling him that her vision was enough to shake me.
AJ, however, doesn’t seem particularly bothered. “Those Oracle types are always so dramatic,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I had classes with one of them in undergrad, and she was always having ‘visions’ about the future that either turned out to be completely wrong or were so vague that they were impossiblenotto come true in some way.”
“I see. Well, that’s good to know,” I respond, even though my gut tells me that the woman from last night wasn’t doing this for show. Hell, she didn’t even remember what she’d told me.
When I reach for my plant biochemistry textbook, my elbow catches the edge of my folder. It tips, falling to the ground, and papers flutter to the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter, dropping to my knees to gather them up.
AJ crouches down beside me to help, picking up the scattered items. “What's this?”
When I glance up, he’s holding the photograph of my father that I’d tucked into my folder the last time I came to research in the library’s yearbooks. He’s flipping between looking at the photo on the front and the numbers scrawled across the back.
“Oh, uh, it’s the only photo I have left of my dad.”
“Why is there a Dewey Decimal code on the back of it?”
It takes a few seconds for his words to register. “Uhh, what?”
“This number right here. It’s part of the Dewey Decimal Classification system. I’m pretty sure it’s for the section on computers, which is, like, the least used section here considering we aren’t allowed to use computers on campus.”
“Are—are you sure that’s what it is?”
He nods. “Yeah, I don’t know what else it could be. I’ve memorized most of the classifications since I’ve been working here in the library for so many years.”
“Show me.” My pulse pounds in my ears as I follow a confused AJ to the second floor, where he leads me through a maze of shelves until we reach one near the back wall.
He skims the numbers on the books’ spines then gestures toward a shelf. “Operating systems. Was your dad a big computer guy or something?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, unable to believe the bizarreness of the situation and skimming the spines for anything that might stand out. Therehasto be a reason heleft this. For so many years I’ve stared at the number, wondering if it was important or simply a mindless note, but somehow the answer has been in front of me the entire time.
Then, I see it. Tucked between two massive textbooks on the bottom row is a slim black spine, just barely wide enough to be visible, with a tiny pattern of gold ferns embossed along the spine. It’s so small that anyone not searching for it would miss it, and it definitely doesn’t belong in this section.
My hands shake as I crouch down and pull it free. It’s an informational book about ferns local to the Pacific Northwest, and when I open the cover, a folded piece of paper falls out, fluttering to the floor like a leaf.
