Chapter 107

Agnes

The following day, I found myself in the library during my break, the old book on spells and curses tucked away discreetly in my bag. Somehow it felt heavier today, as if the missing pages added weight to it. I needed answers, and Gertrude was the only person I trusted to help me find them.

The library was quiet as usual, calming me the moment I stepped inside. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden beams across the rows of bookshelves.

Gertrude was at her usual spot behind the front desk, her glasses perched on the end of her nose as she sorted through a stack of returned books. She looked up as I approached, her expression softening when she saw me.

“Agnes,” she greeted, setting aside a book. “Shouldn’t you be resting after the chaos of the fashion show?”

I rolled my eyes. “I could say the same to you. Don’t you ever take a break?”

She chuckled and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Librarians don’t rest. The books demand too much attention.” She glanced at me for a moment, and as if reading my mind, she cocked her head and said, “What’s going on? You look nervous.”

I hesitated for a moment before jerking my chin toward a more secluded area. She furrowed her brow and followed me behind a tall bookshelf, and I pulled out the book, opening it to the missing pages, then handed it to her. “It’s missing pages. Several pages.”

Gertrude’s mouth dropped open as she opened the book, her fingers tracing the jagged edges where the pages had been torn out.

“This is… concerning,” she murmured, seemingly more to herself than to me. “Restricted books are supposed to be carefully protected. They’re not to leave the library, let alone be damaged like this.”

I nodded, my stomach twisting with dread already. “I thought so.”

Gertrude examined the torn edges more closely, her lips pressing into a thin line. “The torn portions indicate that it might have been done within the past five to seven years, at least.”

I frowned, confused. “You can tell that much just from one look?” I knew Gertrude was an experienced librarian, but that took me by surprise.

Gertrude held the book up to the light, tracing her finger across the jagged edges once more. “Paper decays slowly, but it decays nonetheless. Judging from the faint yellowing, it certainly wasn’t done yesterday. And since books in the restricted section are rarely touched or opened, this is the sort of deterioration we might see within a decade.”

“That doesn’t seem to narrow it down very much,” I sighed.

But Gertrude shook her head and gestured for me to follow her to a nearby computer. “We keep a record of everyone who accesses the restricted section as well as comments on the visit,” she said. “Even when you visited the other day, I entered it in the system.” She smirked. “And no, before you ask, I didn’t mention that you borrowed this book.”

I blushed. “Sneaky.”

Gertrude shrugged. “Only for you. Anyway, since we usually only allow historians and higher-ups in the pack to access it, the list isn’t long.”

I leaned over the desk, my eyebrows shooting up as the screen filled with a list of names and dates from the past ten years. It was a sizable list, but not impossible to parse through. We were silent for a few minutes as we scanned the list, searching for any familiar names or anything of note.

Suddenly, I pointed at the screen when I saw a familiar name from seven years past. “Ava… My stepsister. What the hell was she visiting the restricted section for seven years ago?”

Gertrude frowned. “Does she have any interest in books or research?”

I almost laughed out loud at the thought. “No. Never. Ava always thought reading was boring. She used to mock me for spending so much time in the library. Research was ‘below’ her, she said. It was too ‘nerdy’ or something.”

Gertrude’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then why would she go into the restricted section?” She turned to me. “Do you think she’s involved, somehow?”

I didn’t have an answer, but a sinking feeling settled in my chest, even if it was a long shot. I wasn’t sure if Ava had anything to do with this book in particular, but something felt… off. Out of all the names on the list—random historians and archivists and even Elijah on several occasions—Ava felt like the most likely to do something as heinous as destroying valuable artifacts.

But why?

“I need to talk to her,” I said, turning on my heel.

Ava’s house was exactly as I remembered it—cold, sterile, and devoid of any warmth. The white walls and utter lack of greenery on the front lawn always made it feel more like a prison than a home, which was fitting, considering the fact that she was under house arrest while awaiting trial for her crimes concerning the rogues.

I knocked on the door, my heart pounding in my chest. For a moment, there was silence, and I figured she might not even answer. Then, the sound of footsteps echoed from inside. The door creaked open, and Ava stood there looking bored already.

Even under house arrest, she still looked perfect. Pristine hair, freshly manicured nails, designer from head to toe. If you ignored the ankle monitor, of course.

“Agnes,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “What a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need to talk to you.”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. She clearly had no intention of letting me in. “Oh? And what could we possibly have to talk about? No offense, but I’m not exactly inclined to speak to you after you slapped my mother.”

“And I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But this isn’t about that, or…” I gestured to the bracelet around her ankle. “Or that. It’s about something else.”

Ava’s jaw twitched at the mention of the monitor, and she crossed her foot behind her other ankle as if to hide it. “What is it, then?”

“A book.”

“A book? Really, Agnes? You came all this way to talk about a book?”

I stepped closer, my voice low. “A restricted book. One that’s missing pages. Pages that were torn out seven years ago.”

For a moment, Ava didn’t respond. Then, she let out a laugh that was too brittle for her own good. “And you think I had something to do with that? Please. I have better things to do than mess around with dusty old books.”

“The library records say otherwise,” I shot back, my patience wearing thin. “You’ve never set foot in a library in your entire life, not even for school, and yet you were in the restricted section seven years ago. Why?”

Ava’s smile faltered, just for a second, but it was enough. She recovered quickly, her expression hardening. “I don’t know, Agnes. It was seven years ago. Unlike you, some of us don’t hold onto the past.”

She moved to close the door after that, but I stepped forward, blocking it with my foot. “Don’t bullshit me, Ava.” I pulled the book out of my bag and held it up so she could see it, open to the spot where the pages were missing. “I know you know something about this. Tell me now, or face the consequences.”

Ava’s face went pale.