Page 55 of Florescentia

“Give it to me,” his voice rumbled, the floorboards creaking as his form stretched, his head almost hitting the ceiling.

I ran between his legs, the wind blowing my hair as his arm swiped again. Then a tendril wrapped around my leg, pulling it out from under me and dragging me sharply across the floor.

I looked at the journal, the mundane, boring thing. What was he afraid of?

I dug my nail into the soft leather, scratching an eye, then making a line through it.

There was no time to wonder if it would work. Only enough time to try.

My nail broke as I scraped the outward-facing arrowhead on the end of the line, and it was like a loud sound under deep waters.

There was a screech, much more horrid than that of my Peculiars the night Altair appeared.

The beast scrambled, much like I had moments before. His form shrank, cornering himself in the room, those three eyes staring out at me.

My throat was ragged from the panic, but slowly I began to breathe.

I stood in the middle of the room, journal in hand. The only thing more frightening than the symbol working was the fact that it was of my father’s discovery. What had he done to learn such a thing?

Altair did not move from his corner, but those monstrous eyes were burning with hatred.

I looked down at the soft leather, inspecting the book on all sides—then threw it his way.

He avoided it like a cat, ducking and bending around the path of the book. It was like lye in oil.

“Do that again”—I approached; he avoided me just as he’d avoided the book, his back never turning—“and I will find a way to banish you from the house too.”

“Is that a threat?” His voice was a low rumble, diverging from his human mimicry.

“Try it again and find out.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I slowly picked up the journal.

He followed my movements, being as still as he could.

“There is, isn’t there?” I teased.

“Not everything is worth knowing,” he answered, “and some abilities are sparse for a good reason.” He pointed at the book.

“As optimistic as ever.” I stepped past him.

But there was a lingering energy, something foul in the air. Could it be the weight of a secret or the anticipation of something the monster knew that I did not? Was his warning genuine, or was it a way to stop me from looking too hard?

Chapter Sixteen

The Nova

Nonstop ringing.

Not just the tinnitus in my ear, the doorbell. Ringing, ringing, ringing.

I felt around me. The pillow was soft, just the right coolness of the fabric as I turned my face into it. The blanket swept around my body, the cushions of the sofa holding me.

The light from the window made the instruments on my workbench glow in the haze of my morning vision. My face had been pressed into the pages of my father’s journal. The late-night reading had caught up to me in the end.

Something in this book was important, that was clear. What it was, precisely, would remain a mystery until I’d read it all, but the journal wasn’t thin.