Archive of Our Own

If there was one place Jesse Blackthorn frequented more than the training room, it was the Institute's library.

One could argue that being a ghost hadn't prevented him from reading—in fact, that's how he had spent the majority of his nights in half-existence—but after settling in the London Institute, with its enormous tantalizing book collection, there was a renewed literary interest in him. And as with many other aspects of his second life, Jesse didn't know how to show restraint.

He devoured book after book. He didn't limit himself to a specific genre; he read all there was offered to him. History, law, and philosophy but also poetry, novels, and the classics. The classical myths in particular had especially captivated him recently, stories of stoicism, of heroes who faced their fate with bravery and dignity.

Still, the library possessed another even more captivating quality, currently lounging on one of the armchairs, balancing a book on her knees. Jesse raised his eyes from his book—he was rereading The Odyssey—to look at Lucie. She was curled as a cat on the cushions, her chin propped on her small fist.

Jesse loved watching her read. Lucie was usually a ball of energy, vibrating with the need to move around, tell stories, do something. When she shied away from others and didn’t want to talk, Jesse knew she was troubled.

But not when she was alone with a book.

There was peace in the silence of her reading. She was so absorbed in the words that Jesse was certain she wasn't even aware of his gaze. And when she moved her leg upwards to make herself more comfortable, a pale ankle flashing beneath the hem of her periwinkle dress, Jesse quickly busied himself with Homer's poem, his cheeks burning red.

In the months after defeating Belial, after Lucie brought him back to life, the library had become their primary spot for spending time together. Will and Tessa had been firm about them keeping to their very separate rooms, and if they happened to be in the other's room (which they, Will had stressed, should not make a habit of), then the door should be left open.

Jesse didn't really need these rules as he felt obliged to abide by them anyway. After all, he was a stranger in the house and a young man who clearly showed interest in Lucie. If he was in Will's stead, he would have done the same; and Jesse respected him even more for it.

As it was, the library offered the perfect balance. It was public as anyone could walk in at any given moment, a fact Jesse had to remind Lucie of time and time again, and yet private enough for them to hold a conversation, share book recommendations, and enjoy each other's presence.

Jesse had to go back to the top of the page he was currently reading at the memory of the few stolen kisses they'd had between the tall bookshelves, quick pecks on the lips that were sweet yet feverish, and only served to kindle something deep inside of him. Indeed, the library was growing on him with each passing day.

He was just diving into the book’s content for real when a strange thing happened. The book caught on fire. Or, well, it seemed like it. A light crackled between the pages, emitting no heat. It took Jesse a heartbeat to recognize it for what it was.

A fire-message.

Jesse sat upright, adrenaline flooding his veins. He fumbled with the parchment, his mind going through all the possible emergencies that could have risen. The message read:

You've been on the same page for about half an hour. A scene of particular interest to you, I'd assume?

He raised his eyes to look at the note’s obvious writer. Not only because Lucie was the only other person in the room but also because he’d read so many of her manuscripts, he’d recognize her penmanship everywhere. She hadn’t moved much in her armchair, still seemingly focused on her book. The only telltale sign of her doing was the sly curve at the edge of her mouth. His breathing hitched in his throat.

“You look like a mischievous faerie.”

Lucie let out a giggle and finally put the book away. She considered him for a moment with her big blue eyes, her finger placed on her lips in thought.

“I remember when we first met, I believed you were a faerie changeling,” she pondered out loud and stood up, leaving the book behind on the end table. She moved closer, her eyes not leaving his for a second.

“I guess I must have made an impression then,” he half-whispered, his heart racing in his ribcage. He had grown accustomed to the way his body reacted to outside stimuli over the last couple of months. But it still managed to catch him off guard whenever Lucie was in the vicinity.

She stopped right next to him, gingerly placing her hand on his elbow. He was gazing up at her, the book forgotten on his lap.

“You made quite an impression. Afterwards, I may have even developed a peculiar and yet persistent interest towards the Fair Folk”.

She passed by him towards the nearest bookshelf and began perusing the titles. Jesse let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The thing with Lucie was that he could hardly predict her next move these days. Instead of taking Will and Tessa’s prescription about their behavior to heart, she took it as a challenge. An excuse to find a million ways for him to break his promises, to torture him most exquisitely. A flash of skin, a word out of context, a glint in her eyes. They were playing a game which rules were unbeknownst to him, and she was winning.

Well, if he didn’t know the rules, could he break them?

Jesse silently got up from his armchair, making a beeline for the bookshelf where Lucie was now looking carefully through the titles. He stopped only when he could smell the perfume she had recently started wearing as if it was possible to taunt him even further. She was good at it, he gave her that. But he always gave back as good as he got.

He made to pick up a book just next to Lucie's head, making his presence known to her and effectively encasing her between his body and the shelves. Her reaction was quick to follow. She froze for a second and then squared up her shoulders, trying and failing to appear unaffected. But he knew better. He thanked the Angel every day that he was given the privilege to learn these things about her.

“You were right, Luce,” he said, still standing at her back, leafing through the book he had pulled from the shelf. He had no idea what it was about.

Lucie peeked over her shoulder. “About you being a faerie changeling?” Her eyes traveled across his face in an obvious evaluation. “You certainly look the part.”

Jesse closed the book and stretched his arm to put it back into place. Lucie had moved a bit to the side, making it easy for him to lean in, his mouth a hair away from her ear.

“You were right about what you’ve written on the fire message. About me being enraptured by a particular scene. ”

Lucie turned fully to look at him, her nose almost bumping into his. She centered herself quickly, waiting for him to elaborate further on his comment. When literature was concerned, one had Lucie’s undivided attention. She loved analyzing, criticising, and dissecting a work of fiction down to its tiniest components. It was a way for her to improve on her own writing. And he only too gladly offered her opportunities for such discussions. She likely expected him to lecture about The Odyssey’s themes of travel and return, which he had always found intriguing. As of now, however, that couldn’t be any further from his mind.

“I was thinking about a scene I read recently in a serialized novel by a promising young writer… I believe the title was The Beautiful Cordelia.”

The afternoon sunlight poured from the tall windows, illuminating the dust motes hanging in the air and Lucie’s saucer-big eyes. She checked herself and raised an eyebrow, feigning only carefully contained interest, her hands grasped at her front. The perfect picture of innocence.

“What was it about? I think I’ve heard the name before.”

Jesse made to gently tuck a wayward strand of hair behind Lucie’s ear. His fingers lingered there as he took in the softness of her cheek.

“There was a scene between these two characters, a knight and a lady. The knight, Sir Jerrod, is enchanted by his lady, Princess Lucinda. But as he is bound by his vows, he is desperate to uphold his honor around her…"

His thumb caressed her parted pink lips.

"And, let me tell you, the Princess isn't being helpful at all."

Jesse had barely let out the words when Lucie pulled him towards her by his elbows and kissed him hard on the mouth. It only took him a second to respond with fervor matching hers, if not surpassing it. He could, he reasoned, allow himself such transgressions from time to time. Otherwise, he might die, in truth.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, he was aware that someone could open the Institute's library doors to the sight of him pressing Lucie against the antique bookshelf. But right there and then, the thought only sent more adrenaline coursing through his veins. Her hands around his neck, along with the tiny whimpers she made with each flick of his tongue against hers, were undoing him in a way he could once only imagine in his wildest dreams. And it was empowering – the knowledge that it was him who undid her, too.

As he was kissing her, he took a mental note of all things about her. The taste of the afternoon tea on her lips, the silk of her skin, the floral fragrance of her perfume mixed with the stale scent of the old books on the shelves. It was him who'd been a ghost for years but, in a way, she'd also been one for him, divided as they were by the thin border between their worlds. But now he was real, she was real, and she was melting in his arms.

"Never in my time!"

They both sprang away from each other as if stung by a bee on a summer day.

Jessamine Lovelace was hovering two feet above the parquet, with her hands on her hips and face scrunched in anger. Jesse, frozen as he was by being caught in such a compromising position, could only conclude that the blush on her cheeks was due to the heavy red curtains behind her.

That, or he and Lucie had managed to scandalize the London Institute's resident ghost to life.

Jesse took a deep breath, feeling he should take responsibility in this situation as a gentleman and save his lady's graces. He opened his mouth to speak, but heard Lucie's voice instead:

"You talk as if you hadn't had a fair share of sneaking out of the Institute to kiss boys in Hyde Park!" Lucie huffed, mimicking Jessie's pose.

Jessamine let out a sound of indignation and disappeared with a poof, only to appear a second later face to face with Lucie.

"It was one boy, my dear, and look where that led me!" At that, she spared Jesse a glance and tried to give him a sweet smile. "I don’t mean to offend you, Blackthorn boy."

"I understand, Miss Lovelace," he offered but decided it wasn't enough. "But you must know that I have only the purest intentions towards Lucie."

Jessamine raised an eyebrow. "And you must be aware that it didn't seem like it a minute ago."

Lucie gasped, his face burnt, and for a brief unbelievable moment, he wished he were a ghost again.

He heard Lucie fumble for words, her mind going miles per minute, while his was stuck on the thought that he hadn’t kept his promise. And soon Tessa and Will would know about him jumping on their daughter in the library. And he would be exiled, probably to America, sentenced to never see her again.

Lucie was still going on about parties and sneaking out in boys’ clothes when Jessamine dramatically raised her hands in defeat.

“All I want to say is, beware that I spend most of my time in the Institute’s common rooms. Be so kind as to spare me the sight next time, be more discreet.” She looked down on them, accusation in her eyes, but there was something else burning there as well. A playful flame, a reminder that she was young once, too, before it was taken away from her. “If you could, anyway.”

And with that, she vanished.

Jesse and Lucie stared at each other long before agreeing that they’d had enough reading for that day.

Lucie couldn’t sleep.

She was in her bed, tossing and turning in her nightgown. Images from earlier haunted her; she couldn’t help but take a fragment out of her memories—Jesse’s eyes, Jesse’s scent, Jesse’s touch—examine it in detail and tuck it safely away for future reference. She thought their being intruded on would spoil the moment but she found herself overexcited despite of it, or even because of it.

Just as she was in another fit of giggling into her pillow, a small light flew over her face like a firefly. A strip of fire-message.

I can’t sleep. Do you happen to have the next chapter for the novel we talked about?

Lucie smiled to herself and set out to do what she did best. She wrote well into the night.