The Night Land by William Hope Hodgson (me reader TXT) 📕

waited for it to spit out a list of books, reference materials, and locations where they could be found. I printed the list and then typed in The Tartarus Blade. There were only two listings. Once that was printed, I began searching through the stacks. Ten minutes later, I had gathered a few books and found a small desk tucked into a corner that allowed me a view of three-quarters of the open area. I preferred to be able to see every aspect of the room, but there was no such perspective point to be found when you were faced with row upon row of shelves. In short, it was a strategical nightmare. So, I chose the best option available, and I spread out my research on the table before me.

For every artifact in the Keeper’s system, there was a collective journal. Any Keeper that had come into contact with the artifact or obtained information associated with it would create an entry in the corresponding journal to record the details of their encounter. Those are the journals I went to first. Because while the history of each artifact might be fascinating, I was more interested in its current location and status. Knowing where it came from and what neat tricks it could do, that was secondary.

“That is not what I would call light readin’.” The familiar inflection sent an equally familiar shiver over my skin. Cian’s voice had effortlessly grown on me and developed a penchant for making my pulse quicken. When I looked up to say hello, I realized he wasn't alone.

It’s natural to judge someone on a first impression . . . even when you're not trained to size someone up in a split second. But add in any amount of training and you’ll view everyone from one of two perspectives—friend or foe. I tend to assume they are foe first and let them prove otherwise. Soul Sight has been fundamental in my assessment of everyone I've come into contact with since I was eleven years old. Until I came to Pyreshore.

Those familiar deep blue eyes smiled down at me, but my gaze darted to the unfamiliar man standing just to Cian's left. He was tall, but still a few inches shorter than Cian, and sported an athletic build with just a little added bulk through the arms and shoulders. Yet, like my attempts to read Cian, my Soul Sight was drawing a blank.

“Hi,” I managed to get out and refocus on the familiar smile. “No, I don't suppose it would qualify as your usual curling-up-with-a-good-book-by-a-fireplace material, would it?” I smiled back as I casually slid a book to cover my list of references for the Tartaros Blade. My sleight of hand did not go unnoticed. I saw Cian squint curiously in the direction of my now hidden research. “Who's your friend?” I asked to redirect his attention.

“Aish, this is Kage Mazoku. Kage, Aisling O’Cléirigh.” Cian made the introductions short and sweet.

Kage had one hand shoved in the pocket of his jeans and another gripped the camera bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't bother extending either. He simply nodded and offered a smile that put me a little on edge. It seemed harmless enough, cheerful even, but that's what didn't sit right. It was almost forced.

“It's nice to meet you, Aish,” Kage offered, pushing his smile upward until his thin cheeks pressed their way against his hooded eyelids.

“You too,” I replied. My smile, contrary to Kage’s, lessened.

Since I could read neither of them, I could only assume that they both came from the same bloodline . . . or origins, as Cian had explained it. Considering what Nira had shared regarding Cian being reserved and rarely engaging with anyone other than his brother, I found myself wondering how Kage fit into the picture. However, recalling that Grams taught me to be polite, I wouldn't be asking. At least, not in front of him.

“What brings you two crazy kids to the library?” I asked instead.

“Would you believe me if I said homework?” Cian joked.

“Meh. Maybe. Though, ya don’t strike me as the homework on the weekend type. Ya know . . . like me,” I teased and waved my hand out over the array of books spread in front of me. “Did ya even give Kage here an option?”

Kage laughed quietly. “It was actually my idea,” he claimed.

I wanted to be nosey. Nosey was kind of my natural tendency. Occupational hazard. But I also didn’t want to be obvious. Besides, the best way to get someone to tell you what you want to know is to make them feel comfortable first.

“Chicks do like the studious type,” I said instead of so what are you here looking for? It was a solid non-nosey response.

“Do they?” Cian asked.

“I mean, that’s what I hear.” I shrugged one shoulder.

“Yeah,” Kage added, playing along. “I’ve heard that too. What rock have you been hiding under, bruh?” he elbowed Cian.

“So, not to be nosey—” I was totally about to be nosey. “But do you live in Pyreshore, Kage? I’m new to town and haven’t met all the locals.”

“No. Just visiting.”

“Kage and my brother, Brenhin, work together. They’re meeting up here before heading out on their next assignment,” Cian explained.

“Oh? What do you do?” I turned my attention to Kage for a reply.

“I’m a photojournalist.”

“Ohhh . . . explains the camera bag. So, are you responsible for all the amazing photos hanging up at the café?” I questioned.

“No. No. Those were all taken by Brenhin and Cian, here,” Kage explained.

My attention turned to Cian, and I crooked my head curiously at him and smiled. “Is that so?” With raised eyebrows, his smile morphed into a smirk. He was chock-full of surprises, it would seem.

I turned my focus back to Kage who was carefully watching our non-verbal exchange unfold. “I’m going to go find that book I’m looking for,” he remarked. “It was nice to meet you, Aish.”

“Likewise,” I returned.

Kage nodded politely and disappeared into the