“There is, of course, the library at Trinity College.”
My mouth hung open. “Of course. Trinity!” I’d seen pictures of it. That’s why it looked familiar. And my God, the name…
“Pardon my asking, but why would you think any information about your mother would be hidden at Trinity College?”
I nibbled a square of sharp Irish cheddar and a tangy green grape. “Because she put it there.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw it.” I expected Giovanni to question me further, and I didn’t know how, or even if, I could answer, but he simply nodded his head in acceptance. “I’m going to go there tomorrow.”
He took the last bite of the cheese and fruit. “Would you like more to eat?”
I rocked my head from side to side, stretching my tight neck. “Honestly, no. I think I’m ready for massive sleep.”
Having settled the bill, we stood to go. I thanked him, but Giovanni’s eyes latched onto something over my shoulder. Behind me, a television hung in the corner of the bar. Many of the patrons stopped talking to watch the big news headline of the day about the mysterious deaths at Dublin Airport. The newscaster spoke of the couple who had collapsed outside the airport, and then footage from an airport security camera showed the scene: their bodies buckled on the ground, and a side view of me, kneeling among them with my hood over my head. All that could be seen of Giovanni was his hand grabbing my arm. Our silver auras were invisible, of course. We looked normal. Well, except for the fact that dead bodies lay at our feet. It was surreal to watch the scene from an outside perspective, like it wasn’t us. I could almost pretend it wasn’t. Until now.
Above the reel read a caption: “Authorities seeking witness for questioning about mysterious deaths”.
And then the newscaster’s voice: “Authorities are searching for the person seen on this airport security footage, who inexplicably ran from the scene where an unfortunate elderly couple mysteriously collapsed and died outside Dublin international airport today.”
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. My legs went numb. “They’re looking for—”
Giovanni wrapped his arm around my waist and led me from the lobby bar out into the cold night. It wasn’t until we were a good block away that one of us finally spoke. “It’s not just me, Giovanni. You were on there, too. They showed you grabbing my hand and running.”
His jaw was rigid. “I realize.”
“What do we do? I can’t let them find me. Oh God. If my father sees the footage, he might recognize me.”
Giovanni stopped and turned me to face him. “You mean he doesn’t know you’re in Ireland?” When I shook my head, he nodded decisively. “Well then, luck would have it you had your hood partially covering your face.”
I gave Giovanni the address to my hostel, and I followed him toward it. “Do you not wonder how those two people died at the same time like that?” he asked me. “And why you didn’t?”
“Of course I wonder. There was a man there with a white aura. You saw him, too. We’re obviously rare, being nothing but silver, but the pure white ones are also different from everyone else. They scare me. I think he had something to do with the deaths. I don’t know. This is,” I said with a sigh, “it’s all new to me. I wish I knew more.”
“I saw him, yes, and I have reason to share your fear about the people with all-white auras. I have a contact, a doctor, who is very keen to help us know more about ourselves. Perhaps you would consider coming with me to see him? He’s one of the reasons I’ve come to Ireland.”
I nodded. I wanted to meet anyone who knew about the Scintilla.
“But first, I will help you find information about your mother.”
I stared hard at the silver halo of light around him, suddenly frustrated that I couldn’t see more of his true temperament like I could with other people. If he thought my mother’s case was hopeless, what was his motivation to help?
“Why do you want to help me?”
“I have an interest in doing so.”
I’m sure my eyebrows shot up about a mile.
“Survival,” he added.
I began to ask him what he meant, but he stopped walking and pointed to a modest brick building on a side street. “This is your place here,” Giovanni said. “I will come by in the morning, yes?” He looked at me intently and added, “Meeting you, Miss Cora, has been a delightful surprise. To have met another like myself is… Well, I was beginning to feel quite solitary in the world.”
I would have said the same, though maybe in a less aristocratic way.
Giovanni went into himself for a moment, thinking. “I believe it’s important we help each other. It’s our best chance against them.”
“Them?”
He smiled, ruefully. “There’s always a them, isn’t there?”
Twenty-Five
The afternoon sun played peekaboo behind threatening clouds. Trinity College library hadn’t opened until after lunchtime, and so I’d had to impatiently postpone my investigation with a lunch of bangers and mash at a small local pub.
The Book of Kells: Turning Darkness Into Light
The sign outside of the library actually said those words. The same words I’d seen in the vision when I’d unearthed the key in the redwoods. My body hummed with excited energy, and I wished for a fleeting, sad moment that Finn were here with me to share my excitement.
I fingered the key, rotated the small red crystal, and slipped it back inside my shirt. Would I need this key today? Did it unlock something that housed my mother’s research? Would it lead me to her?
Giovanni waited in the long line with me, the strap of his messenger bag slung diagonally over his broad chest. He towered over the heads of everyone like a general surveying his troops. I had to smile. His attention was focused on something up ahead. With us, people-watching was a different sport entirely.
His gaze, which could be called cold but wasn’t if you looked deep enough, flickered to me. He’d caught me staring. I blushed, and a knowing half smile turned up his lips. It was maddening because blushing was totally redundant. Apparently, he could read into the silver in my aura. I wanted to learn to read the subtleties of silver, too. I wanted to know what he was thinking, feeling.
“Any idea where we might find this journal of your mother’s in a security-tight library with over 200,000 volumes that we are not permitted to touch?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t answer questions that aren’t questions.” I knew the odds were against me, but I’d gambled on this trip for a reason. My mother had hidden something here. I knew it. The sign outside proved it.
The line of tourists shuffled into the Long Room of the library. I gasped as soon as I entered. My hand flew to my heart, pressing the key against my skin. The long, narrow room stretched out before us with two stories of books housed in dark wooden shelves soaring up to the barrel-vaulted ceiling like a huge, elegant ship turned upside down. Dozens of alcoves, sections upon sections of books, lined the length of the room. Ornate spiral staircases wound upward in some of the alcoves, while others employed tall, narrow ladders. The alphabet was etched in gold letters up the sides of each row of thick shelves. The brochure said there were over 200,000 volumes in this room alone. It made my book-loving heart race.
In between each recess stood a marble bust upon a wooden pedestal, over forty of them, giving the impression of a fleet of ghostly sentries guarding the ancient volumes—guarding my mother’s treasure. But how on earth was I supposed to find anything here? I didn’t voice this thought, not wanting to see any trace of smugness on Giovanni’s face.
I walked slowly, looking for a box or something in which the key might fit, despairing more with each step. It wasn’t likely that anything was going to jump out at me. I was surrounded by a vast sea of leather tomes with no idea how to find the one precious volume I needed.