Page 113 of Florescentia

I could feel the twitch in my eye already. “I need to find Dorian.”

His face fell, like the warmth of his expression was freezing muscle by muscle as the elation dimmed. “He is dead,” he said bluntly. “You should be concerned about yourself now. When one passes beyond the Otherside, they cease to exist. He isn’t here anymore, Lucia.”

I stared at him, long and hard, until he began to shift. “And you knew this?” I stated. A smile sprouted on my face, the angrier I was becoming. “You knew he’d passed beyond and didn’t stop me from coming here? From searching?”

Interestingly enough, not another word out of the beastly companion.

How dare he?

A knot formed in my chest, a pain I hadn’t considered. I was reliant on him . . . and he knew it would be like this. He’d been truthful in a way; he’d told no lies. But he hadn’t told me everything. Every word he’d ever said to me now felt like a foolish mirage. He was the smoke, the mirror, the stage—and I was his fool.

Another means to an end.

I looked back into the darkness behind me. There was no human man waiting for me, no magical scene. Just three white eyes staring, hiding in the dark.

A chill crept through my spine and made a home between my shoulder blades. It was clear to me that whatever he wanted, it was not to help. He would always be a thing that I’d never understand, his motivations unknown. It would be a mistake to humanize him, to convince myself he was there to help.

Above all, he was a threat.

And I would never know what was holding him back.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Nova

I felt around the tall grass with my foot, my toes curling in the dirt as the blades licked at my skin. A corner poked my toe.

“There you are.” I snapped down, grabbing the grimoire. The grass was sentient enough to have lifted my book and slowly let it crawl across the ground. It took a while to find where all my things had gone to, between the thieving grass and the willow that had since split in two from the nightmarish spider. With light fingers, I dusted the dirt from the face, blowing the rest of the particles away. “You may escape to wherever you please after you help me.”

It opened, nearly flapping out of my hand. I pinched the sides to keep it still, a blank page staring back.

I closed my eyes. My intentions had to be sharp if I was ever going to find what I was looking for. Pale skin and kind eyes, neat black hair, the smell of figs and leather. My body began to settle, to embrace the emotions. I summoned his face, his likeness. Then I summoned his memory, calling back to the years of care.

Even when I imagined my love, the image still was able to be corrupted. Now, when I imagined the image of Dorian, Altair came to mind.

No, keep your intentions clear.

I opened my eyes.

The book remained blank.

I flipped the page. All the subsequent pages were blank, but I kept turning them just in case I caught even a drop, a small piece of hope that I would be able to find him.

Until the last page.

I exhaled.

The sound of voices startled me. None of them were eerie whispers of Peculiars or inhuman sounding. It was people talking. There was a warmth to the tones, like early-morning voices over the mundane routine of breakfast.

I followed the chatter. Along the pond and through the bog flowers, the voices became clearer. Within the water, a bit of light farther from the shore. I was nearly positive that the noises were coming from there.

Before I approached, I cracked the book back open in my palms.

This time there was ink, the lines drawn smoothly by some invisible artisan: a young man, with dark hair and light eyes, olive skin. He had an effortless smile, a charming, crooked smirk. Confirmation that this was no monster. Someone was here.

I placed the book on the shore. The chill of the water crept up my ankles, then up my legs the farther I waded.

The light moved, swirling and shifting. Soon I could hear words.