Page 33 of Stormhold

“Four lefts make a circle, Ella.” I leaned closer to get a good look. The plates and make of the car were the same; everything was exactly the same except for the slight bump near the left taillight. The car that picked up Timothy Walters didn’t have that. And, well enough, the GPS I had on him blinked elsewhere, but the Land Rover was still following the dummy car. Was this all pre-planned to lose their tail? If so, wherever Timothy Walters was actually going had to be important.

“Turn back, it’s no use going this way,” I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut despite Ella’s questions as I tried to remember our way here. An image of when the white truck stopped us flashed in my head, and very well, in my mind, I could see a Mercedes with a similar make and plates. Two Mercedes. One is going straight, and the other taking a speedy left turn.

“They switched cars at the four lanes at Smithson Road.” I blinked my eyes open as I said, “Drop me off there, Ella.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “Whatever you say.”

I knew for a fact where the four-lane ended, but I didn’t want it to be true. But it was exactly where his location pinged.

Twins Codex. And he was in the building.

Why the hell did Timothy Walters not want anyone to know that he was going to the Twins Codex? So was his trip to the bank just a ruse to divert the men following him? He knew the Covent and the Stormholds were watching his every move. Why risk it? And what did he want from the Codex?

Other than valuable books, there wasn’t much there. Or was he meeting someone there?

“I’ve no idea what’s going on here, Bellebelle,” Ella said in a concerned tone as she parked the car by the curb. “I’m more worried now.”

“Don’t be, I’m fine.” I smiled, quickly kissing her cheek, and the smile she returned had some of her worries dissipating as she nodded.

I quickly slipped out of the car. “I won’t be home till later,” I said, leaning through the open window. I didn’t wait for her answer as I waved goodbye and rushed to the library, going straight to the staff entry. I didn’t have my card, but thankfully, one of my colleagues, whom I hardly spoke to, let me in, making small talk about her breakfast this morning while I simply nodded along with a smile.

I didn’t have much time to waste. Because one thing was certain—Timothy Walters evaded his tail to get into the Twins Codex for a reason. A reason he didn’t want both Stormhold and the Covent to know, and I needed to find out what that was.

A simple risk could also be my biggest mistake. But I repeated what I always told myself—sometimes a chance was all you get. It didn’t take long for me to change into the spare dress I always kept in the staff locker room and follow the GPS monitor to Timothy Walters, only to pause when it landed right in the middle of my section.

Unless Timothy Walters’s hobby involved astronomy and quantum physics, there shouldn’t be any other reason for him to be here.

I flayed my palms over the blue silk of my dress up and down thrice before I straightened my spine and walked inside. I wasn’t scared before, and I’m not scared now to face Timothy Walters, the man who held my mother down while she pleaded for her life.

“Ms. Esteal, I thought you weren’t coming in today.” Mrs. Dolores’s gaze sharpened on my presence as she regarded me.

At the sound of my name, Timothy Walters’s back stiffened as flat as a board. His shoulders rose an inch toward his ears, and I could see his chest heave before his shoulders dropped, and he turned toward me with his bulging eyes.

It was apparent that he didn’t know I was Lylah Queen’s daughter, but he knew I was Bellerose Esteal, and I knew he came here not for some book, but for me.

“Turns out my appointment was a lot closer to the library,” I said with a bright smile, playing ignorant. “So I thought I’d just come in.”

“Very well then,” Mrs. Dolores said in a nasally tone. “I’ll leave this gentleman with you.” She offered a polite nod toward the said gentleman before leaving the room, not before giving me a sharp look that said I will deal with you later.

I kept my eyes fixed on Timothy Walters and walked till I was right in front of him. I couldn’t help but notice the slight glimmer in his eyes as he took me in. “My name is Bellerose Esteal,” I said in a composed tone, forcing a pleasant smile. “How can I help you today?”

He hid his smirk with a broad smile. “Ms. Esteal, just the person I was looking for. Dolores spoke a great deal about your knowledge of quantum mechanics.”

I found it hardly likely that Mrs. Dolores said anything good about me, but I went with it. “I see. I hope I’m good enough to help you today, Mr.…?” I fake a frown, not really breaking my rule of lying.

Smiling, he took another eager step forward and offered his hand. “Timothy Walters.”

Pulling on an apologetic smile, I bunched my hands over my skirt. “I don’t like shaking hands.” I would die before I touched the hand that defiled my mother.

For a second, he looked like he didn’t know what to say before a loud laugh bubbled out of his mouth, almost as if it was the funniest thing he had heard in a long while. The sound echoed through the arched Victorian ceilings in a booming shudder. “Very honest, are we?” he asked, his voice still holding laughter as he pressed his handkerchief to his lips and stepped toward my desk, picking up the lone coffee mug I had placed in the corner.

I didn’t like people touching my things either, but I kept that to myself. Sad, that mug was soon going to the trash. “I apologize if I have offended you, sir,” I said in a meek voice, acting like a clueless idiot, and it seemed to work.

With a casual smile, he looked over his shoulder. “No, no, you haven’t,” he said, waving his hand. “It’s hard to find someone as honest as you in this day and age. Even I don’t like shaking hands. But it’s the devil of my job, and there isn’t much I can do about it.”

I nodded, forcing myself to smile harder. Interesting that he said that shaking hands was the devil of his job. I must admit that Timothy Walters did have a lot more brain cells than his brother, Harvey Walters. There was something shrewd about him. Almost as if he masked the real version of himself to appease society. Even the clarity of his speech was remarkable. No one would believe that he once had a speech impairment.

Cocking a hip to my table, he regarded me with pinched eyes. “It feels like I’ve seen you somewhere else, Ms. Esteal. Have we met before?”