Crystal Heart (ONC 2024)

5: Unholy Storm

Delilah all but burst into the study, her eyes darting around the room and her hair whipping back and forth. Frederick was on her heels, and he caught the door before it could hit the wall.

"Where is it?" she demanded, stalking over to his desk. There was nothing large enough on the surface to hide the crystal, so she went directly to the drawers, hauling open the first and rustling through the papers within.

Frederick released the door and took another step into the room. "Calm yourself, Lile. I-"

Delilah's head whipped up, fixing him with a glare so rage-filled that he physically balked. "Don't you dare tell me what to do. You have no idea who we are dealing with." As her jaw trembled, she looked back to the desk, slamming the drawer shut with a low growl. "Where is the crystal?"

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Frederick crossed the room, taking a book off the shelf. When he approached her, the tome held at arm's length, she finally met his gaze. There was no emotion she could see, no reaction to her outburst other than calm seriousness.

"In here," he said, dipping his head at the book.

Delilah managed a shaky breath, moving around the desk and drawing close enough to take it from him. It was lighter than she expected, and as she flipped the dark cover back, she saw why; the pages were hollowed out, creating a cavity just large enough to hold the shard.

The shard that was pulsating with glaring, crimson light.

It took everything in her not to drop the book.

"He's getting closer," she said on an exhale, feeling the blood drain from her face. At the same time, a wave of cold ran up her spine, turning her sweat clammy and forcing her to draw in a sharp, painful breath.

Frederick took a step closer, his hands extending but then stilling as she flinched away. "Who is?"

Ranthor.

The name came unbidden in her mind, but she didn't dare say it aloud. She pressed her lips closed tightly, shaking her head and trying to think through the fear that clouded her mind.

She had to leave.

Reaching into the book, she wrapped her fingers around the sharp edges of the crystal, shuddering as she felt the heartbeats echo up her arm. It was only as she touched it again, felt the dreaded pulsations, that she realised how peaceful it had been to only have her own heart to worry about. She snapped the hollowed book shut, tossing it on the desk, and took a step around Frederick.

He watched her, turning in place.

"Where are you going?"

She didn't know. But that was not worth saying.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Ascott," she said, continuing her path towards the door. She felt him move behind her, and quickened her pace, flinging the door wide as she passed through.

"Lile, you –" he was cut off by a thump as he prevented the door from rebounding back at him. She was already at the top of the stairs when he continued, calling loudly so that his words could reach her. "You can trust me. I want to help you."

She felt anger rise in her, freezing her in place on the fourth step and forcing her to spin back to face him. He leant against the railing, looking down at her with something akin to sympathy etched on his face, imploring her to...

"Trust you?" A humourless laugh bubbled out of her chest, and she tore her gaze away from him for a moment. There were oil paintings hung on the walls, illuminated by flickering candelabras and the fading light from the large window behind her. Storm clouds billowed, the wind shaking the glass panes, and she felt her own limbs trembling where she stood. This was a shadow of her old life, an imitation of what had been taken from her so suddenly, and there was a particular cruelness in being asked to trust someone in a place like this. "Why should I? What reason do you have to help me?"