Ablaze Without Flames

Chapter 7, Part 2 - Blaise

Blaise was halfway through lacing his second boot when he heard Thea crash through from her bedroom. He turned an ear towards her as he finished with his laces.

'I've had an idea.'

'Sounds dangerous,' he grunted back, raising his arms in a stretch that cracked his back.

She ignored him. 'I'm going to take you to the library.' He cocked an eyebrow and she continued, 'You said you overheard those hunters say they couldn't track you because your energy was all over the city, right? That's how their radar-y things work. So, you can't just stay cooped up in here-'

'I'd rather die.'

'-because they'll be able to track you eventually. And I'd rather they didn't knock my door down. But they know what you look like so you can't go parading around the streets either.'

'Only three of them know what I look like,' Blaise pointed out.

'That's three too many, and the others have probably been given a detailed enough description. The library's open exclusively to students and Maisie's already said she'll meet us there. They won't find you.'

Blaise leant back against the sofa, leaning his temple on his fist. 'How are we getting there? Portal?'

She rolled her eyes and came to stand behind him. 'We'll have to walk, of course, but the city's huge and what can they do in broad daylight if they spot you anyway?'

He mused the idea over. A library sounded like an ideal place to find out more about Earth and potential ways to get back to Learus – there had to be some research noted down somewhere – other than the fact it would all be written in a script he couldn't read. 'Do I get a choice?'

'You can go running about by yourself if you want,' she sniffed. 'You looked so shaken up last time you tried I didn't think you'd want to.'

Blaise made a face. 'Fine. I'll go to your library.'

Her face morphed into such a picture of gleeful smugness that he had to resist curling his lip.

The library in the Chief's Hall was extensive. At least, Blaise had thought so until he stepped foot inside the glass building after Thea. A hole in the ceiling revealed three floors of book-stuffed shelves, rows upon rows of glossy covers; some had pictures on them, some with words, some obviously old and falling apart—some had gold-embossed lettering.

'You cannot know this much,' he murmured, head tipped back to stare at the balconies above him.

He heard the smirk in her voice when she replied. 'This is over two-thousand years of research, observation and experimentation, Blaise. And this is a fragment of the size of the British Library Archive.'

Blaise cursed in a language he rarely used, but there was no oath clear enough in the new tongue to contain his disbelief. She glanced sideways at the growling undertone and he could sense the question on her lips, so said, 'And what is it we're going to do here?'

'Read. Write. Whatever you like.'

'Hey, guys,' said Maisie, sneaking up from behind to stand between them. She held a cup of hot, earthy, bitter-smelling liquid in her hands, holding it close as though she was fighting off a chill. Slung across her body was a satchel that rested against her hip, one that reminded him like a slap to the face of Felix's mail satchels. But this one was made from smooth pastel-yellow leather.

'I can't read your script,' Blaise said in answer to Thea. Maisie frowned at him and Thea clawed her fingers down one side of her face. 'Am I not supposed to say that?'