“Me, too. But it’s not.” I opened it and showed her the strange scribblings. “Check it out. The writing is insane.”
She squinted at it, then gasped, her grip loosening on her mug. The ceramic cup slipped from her fingers, and Grey reached down, snagging it before it hit the ground.
“No way,” she breathed, reaching for the book with a trembling hand. I let her have it, and she raised it to her face. Quickly, carefully, she flipped through the pages, her jaw slackening. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”
“What is it?” I could feel Mac and Beatrix crowding close.
“Just a moment, and I’ll confirm my suspicions.” She turned and hurried into the library.
We followed, Beatrix gasping upon entrance. Seraphia raced to her worktable, winding her way through the shelves, and we hurried after her. She bent over the table, laying the book out flat and opening it to a random page. Quickly, she ducked under the table and disappeared.
I bent down to peer underneath, then spotted her opening a secret compartment set into the floor.
“I trust you,” she said. “Or you’d never see this.”
With a few deft maneuvers, she lifted up one of the wooden floorboards, and her hand trembled as she withdrew a box. The ornately carved wood gleamed with the patina of careful care. Quickly, she climbed out from under the table and set the box on the surface.
“Keep an eye on that,” she said, then disappeared between some shelves. Her voice drifted back. “I’ll only be a moment.”
I shared a look with the others, but before we could speak, she’d already returned, a key clutched in her hand. She slipped the key into the box, twisting it carefully. The lid popped open.
Carefully, she removed a stone from the box. It looked average enough, and I frowned. “What’s that?”
“Shh.” She hovered the stone right over the pages, standing so perfectly still that she was obviously holding her breath. The stone glowed gold, and she heaved a sigh. “Amazing.”
“What is it?” I leaned closer, trying to see whatever it was that she could see.
But nothing had changed about the book. It was still indecipherable.
“This isn’t quite a book. Not in the way you are used to.” She pointed to the words. “And this isn’t another language. It was written in English.”
“So it’s code?”
“Not exactly. It’s a spell. The book was written in English, and then enchanted so that the reader could go back in time to visit the events that were written about.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” She looked up, her face bright with excitement. “These books are incredibly rare. We had several in our collection, but they were stolen ages ago. This is the first I’ve ever seen with my own eyes.”
“How do we use it, then?” I asked.
“Come, I’ll show you.” She turned, leading us deeper into the library. We wound our way between shelves, getting lost in the recesses of the cavernous building. It grew darker and gloomier, the air chilling.
Finally, we reached a section of bookshelves that appeared empty. The wooden shelves formed a narrow aisle that led into the darkness. A faint glitter filled the air between the shelves, and I stepped toward it.
Seraphia reached out and gripped my arm. “Stop.”
I halted immediately, staring at the space with rapt attention.
“The library no longer has any of those books,” she said. “But we still have our portal. If you carry the book between those shelves, you’ll be taken back in time to whenever the book was written.”
“For real, back in time?” Beatrix asked, skepticism in her voice.
I couldn’t help but feel the same. I’d seen amazing things in the magical world, but time travel?
“Yes.” Seraphia nodded. “You’ll arrive in this very library, but in the past.”
“Likely in the time of Rasla,” I said, suddenly feeling Beatrix’s confusion. I turned to her. “Around 1642. He was a bastard, but it’s a very long story.”