Page 109 of Florescentia
“No . . .” I dropped to my knees, shuffling through the items for my father’s journal. “Please no!” I ripped it open, the pages separating from the seam. Even if the pages were salvageable, the ink bled so heavily they would be more useful as napkins.
The other items were wet but not ruined, especially the grimoire. The sentient object looked as if it hadn’t been touched at all, dry as a bone.
I opened the grimoire. The pages were hydrophobic. The beads of water rolled right off.
The camera I wasn’t too worried about, as long as the interior could be dried. Fungi in the lens was my key concern—but not my most immediate worry, considering the circumstances. The camera still had some of my solution dried on the lens from one of many mishaps in the library. I glanced through the viewfinder to check, only to be left puzzled.
Around me, everything was dark, with shades of blues lucent through the scene.
Through the lens, I saw full color. Auras of pink and yellow, reds and oranges, purples and rich blues burst through the glass. It was like the hazes were bleeding together, intermingling.
I pointed the lens at the flowers beside me, which were revealed to be pitch black.
Peculiars waiting idly by, not flowers at all.
With my belongings pushed to the side, I laid my satchel out for the leather to dry properly. There was nothing worse than when the mildew smell settled in.
On a low-hanging branch, I hung my petticoat, my corset, even my stockings. I had nothing to wear but my last layer—my combinations.
I sat against the base of the tree, pulling my hair forward and attempting to brush through it with my fingers. The curls were already beginning to dry, coiling back up again.
Finally, I was on the Otherside.
But where to go from here was still a mystery.
The night was dark and full of comforts, my dreams guided by the illusion of stars in the sky, and shadows lurking in my midst.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Eclipse
A curl twisted around my finger before I tucked it behind her ear. Even when asleep, Lucia remained austere and tense. I didn’t think any substance would relax her, even if she tried.
I still wondered where they went when they slept. One of my theories was that they saw my world, in spirit alone. Which was why nothing slept here, not in any restful way, at least. It was like having a nap in a dream; there was no point to it. The Otherside wasn’t a physical location, after all. It was in between, a dimension of pure energy. A transition, if you will.
My touch trailed along the skin of her neck, her artery pulsing rapidly in her unrestful sleep. Her skin was becoming warm and flustered. Even as my claw trailed down her arm, bumps on her skin formed from the cool sensation.
Should I have been offended that she’d never dreamed of me? Not even a nightmare? Did she dream at all? If she did, I would imagine it was about her work.
This wasn’t guaranteed to work. I had returned to my world, yet there was still a chance she would not choose to stay. This was the only way we could both exist, together.
I brushed my fingers through her curly hair again. Something so soft with such a sharp personality. That stubbornness was the only thing truly in her way. She was rude, demanding, uncouth—and yet she had left as permanent a mark on my soul as I had to her skin.
I stared at my hand. A beastly, clawed form. Suddenly, the feeling of unworthiness settled. Steadily, my hand turned from its bestial shape to human.
I knelt before her, my hands on her face, then her neck.
“Lucia, I hope you choose to stay,” I whispered in her ear, my hands smoothing her hair as my cheek touched hers.
It would take some convincing. I could show her the world she so yearned for, the knowledge she thirsted for, and the questions she’d never even thought to ask before with her limited purview.
Her breath against my neck was soft, so precious that even this moment felt stolen.
Her body was so warm, a comfort knowing she was almost there . . . that she was almost mine and mine alone.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Nova
