Page 191 of Librarian

“Watch the books,” North grumbles, flinging himself over the edge after Lambert, slowing his descent with a hover spell.

“You’re fucking welcome!” I growl after him as Pierce follows suit, casting a bolt of lightning that ricochets off the lich’s shield.

They land in the swirling carpet of fog that’s growing thicker and thicker as the battle drags on.

All of them are attacking now. Furniture is flying. Mathias’s shield is sinking in, but I’m pretty sure that has less to do withus and more to do with how he’s distracted swapping between grimoires.

When his attention shifts to the others, I switch tactics. I dinnae ken many destruction spells, but there’s a lot of glass. I lift a few of the bigger shards with magic, flinging them at him.

It does fuck all.

I have no idea what spell the lich uses, but suddenly the floor below is liquid. North curses, diving for a table. Lambert jumps and grabs one of the hanging pots to escape it. The ropes hold just long enough for the wood beneath to resolidify, before giving way with a snap that sends him plummeting back to earth.

Dakari and Leo aren’t so lucky. Their ankles are trapped. Leo flicks through his grimoire for a counter-spell, but Dakari is already aiming a brute-force wave of manipulation magic at the floor. The pretty basketweave pattern splinters into matchsticks in the next breath, freeing them. Their legs are bleeding, but I cannae do much about that from here.

Leo chants something else, and glowing patches light up across Mathias’s shield. Weak spots. Lambert dodges another blast of ice with a flip I’ve seen him use in magiball games. The move puts him within reach of Mathias, and he uses that, ramming his arm—transmuted into a spear—straight into the lich’s shield.

It punctures the glowing target Leo painted, shattering the entire construct.

Yes!

Mathias’s answering blast of power knocks Lambert back. It’s so strong that it blows my hair out of my face even though I’m not the target. There’s a crash as Lambert lands, but I’m too busy shielding my eyes against the flying debris to watch. When I open them again, Mathias is bleeding, a neat line sliced across his face.

Savage satisfaction burns in my gut.

Lambert has been tossed into a heavy mahogany bookcase below me. The shelves have snapped under his weight, and books are still raining down on his head.

He shoves back to his feet before I can drop down and check on him.

“Sorry, boss,” he mutters under his breath.

The reminder makes my chest hurt. I grab another bomb from the dwindling number in the box, weighing the cool, hard brass sphere in my hand. Eddy has been throwing them like a woman possessed, but not much has come of it. I throw this one as hard as I can, trying to catch Mathias off guard.

He bats it away without effort. It hits a window instead, sending coloured glass bursting everywhere.

The fingers of the lich’s free hand rise to touch the wound on his face, and he fixes all of us with a glower. One that promises death.

Briefly, his eyes flick to the closest door.

Thinking about running?

North evidently thinks so. He shifts, placing himself in front of it. “Like fuck you’re running away after what you’ve done.”

That’s a damned suicidal move, and the way Lambert edges closer tells me I’m not the only one thinking it.

“I don’t need to run from a bunch of pathetic liminal bastards.” Mathias swipes the blood away with a scowl.

His hand drops to the other grimoire, a new, darker incantation spilling from his blackened lips.

The dead revenants behind Eddy and me shove to their feet. Their melted flesh falls to the floor with slick, squelching sounds as they reach for anything they can use as a weapon. Chairs, lamps, shards of glass.

I turn to face them, only for Mathias to send a wave of magic our way. No. Not at us. At the pillar supporting the balcony.

Shit.

The pages of my grimoire flick violently.

The structure sways as if caught in a wind. Somehow, I’m convinced I can feel the faintest brush of the Arcanaeum’s magic—Kyrith’s magic—keeping it upright.