Chapter Text
"Right, well." Elliot peeled a particularly fat dictionary off the bloodstained desk. "This is bad."
Emma let out a short, sharp laugh. "Yes," she said dryly, "I agree."
When Elliot had received the call from Jusis, he and Emma had been clustered around a cafe table, nose-deep in encyclopedias about--about what, exactly, he had forgotten already, but it was probably something to do with music history. Perhaps particularly obscure music history, considering he felt the need to walk all the way from campus to the town's bookstore to ask Emma for help. It wasn't important now, anyways.
Elliot never fancied he was one for physical exercise. He did some, of course. This was an Erebonian academy after all, and no imperial academy would put out students that couldn't keep up with a military march. He could respond in a crisis fast enough not to put his education to shame, he thought, even if he was no match for someone like Laura. But when his and Emma's ARCUS started blaring and Jusis's frazzled voice broke through for just an instant, long enough to call for help before being swallowed by a cacophony of screams, Emma sprang into action with enough swiftness to put a wildcat to shame. It took an extra second for Elliot to extricate himself from his seat--he considered flipping the table in a fit of desperation, but the presence of books on its surface held him back--and race after her.
Emma reached the library doors and flung them open with strength Elliot would not have expected from her spindly, bookworn arms. She plunged inside, and he bounded after her, any potential hesitation crushed by the fear of losing sight of her. They were both unarmed, unprepared, and utterly helpless, all things considered, but in the frenzy of their flight, Elliot could not help but feel as though their ferocity alone would vanquish whatever evil awaited within.
But there was nothing waiting. No good, no evil, and no Jusis, either. Emma froze in the middle of what remained of the library, hands raised to catch the blood that streamed from newly formed cracks in the ceiling. Books had been torn from their shelves, and shredded pages rested with eerie quiet all around. Elliot skidded to a halt, nausea rising in his throat. He clamped his hands over his nose and mouth--too late, he realized, the stench of death already taking root in his nostrils. He had a split second to wonder how Emma managed to stand there without flinching before his stomach reached its limit, and he bolted back out the door.
It had taken him about ten seconds to compose himself. An okay time, if this was an emergency drill in combat class, but everyone else in Class VII usually did better than that. Elliot hadn't seen Jusis incapacitated for more than two seconds at a time. Emma's score was middling during practice, as far as he could remember. Maybe she was the type that really rose to the occasion in a crisis. He'd hoped that he was, too.
"Look," was the first thing Emma said when he stepped, still trembling, through the open door. She was pointing at the surface of a desk, where a dictionary rested in a puddle of blood. Elliot wobbled over, coming dangerously close to tripping over his own feet, and picked up the dictionary.
"Jusis was using that." Emma strode to Elliot's side and ran her fingers down the book's cover. "I can tell."
Elliot turned the book over in his hands, looking for marks, fingerprints, any trace that remained of Jusis's presence. He couldn't see anything, but apparently Emma did. "What do we do?"
"Find him," Emma said matter-of-factly. She took the book from Elliot and started flipping through the rust-tinted pages. "Isn't that right?"
"I mean," Elliot responded, falteringly, "yeah, but I think we need help. We should tell someone. Maybe we shouldn't even be here." Surely it was a matter of time before students and faculty came running, he thought, not without a tingle of relief, and they would be relegated to the sidelines.
"Elliot," Emma said, with almost uncharacteristic sharpness. She turned her piercing eyes, glinting like shards of tempered glass, to meet his. "I know what this is."
Elliot fell silent, smothered beneath the weight behind her words. How could anyone know what this was? Was there a myth about some monster that ransacked libraries and inhaled the corpses of its victims, leaving behind torn pages and enough blood to fill a small pond? Not that he remembered, at least. He opened his mouth to say as much when Emma snapped her fingers and red-hot sparks--sparks?--flew from her fingertips.
"Not monsters," she whispered, so quiet that the silence seemed to become a roar of voices drowning out her words, and Elliot had to strain to hear her. "Magic." She was still looking at him, but it felt as though she was somehow looking beyond him, too.
The floor shook, just slightly. It had happened before, when a small earthquake rumbled through some province nearby. Under normal circumstances, nobody would have given it a second thought.
Elliot hardly realized Emma had grabbed his hands and was dragging him beneath the counter before the library's walls exploded, swallowing up his eyes and ears in a burst of heat and pain, and he knew no more.