The inside of Simon Beck's study looked like a museum exhibit. High bookshelves filled to the brim with completed encyclopedia collections, one-of-one history textbooks, and some of the most famous novels in the world made up the long walls. The entire collection might've cost more than the house it lived inside. Uncovered lightbulbs hung from the sloped ceiling. Thea flipped the switch near the entrance. Moments later, the shadows in the room were banished to the far reaches of the attic.
"Sheesh," Malik said as he wandered across the polished floors. "This place is bigger than my high school's library."
"Your school must've sucked," Henri said flatly. Westminster had a decent collection on its campus. He often spent many sleepless nights studying for exams within their library's walls. He couldn't imagine attending a school that didn't even have more books than his family's attic.
Malik tensed at his comment. His jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression.
"Hey, you never told us where you're from," Thea said.
"You never asked."
"Well...we're asking now." Henri followed behind him as he approached a shelf holding all thirty-two editions of the last printed edition of the Britannica.
Malik pretended not to hear him and instead chose to examine the numerous amounts of book spines facing them. "Your dad some kinda secret librarian or something?"
Henri frowned at his pathetic dodging of the question. "Malik—"
"I'm from nowhere special. Just some poor neighborhood in DC you've probably never heard of. You live in a place like this. I wouldn't expect you to."
"Ouch," Thea said from behind them. "Judgmental much?"
"Am I wrong?"
Henri's frown deepened. Since the moment they'd met, there seemed to be a hint of jealousy hidden behind the boy's words. It wasn't a mystery why it was there, and Henri couldn't say he wasn't used to hearing it. The second anyone found out who Henri was, their brains created an image of who they thought he and his family were. But they didn't know him—or the Becks. Not really.
"We're just trying to get to know you," Henri said after taking a deep breath. "I mean, we just went through something traumatic together."
Malik faced him. "My entire life has been a series of traumatic events. This ain't anything new to me."
Henri studied his eyes, allowing himself to sink into their deep, murky depths. Malik quickly broke eye contact, though, and chose to stare at his shoes. Henri tried his hardest not to look crestfallen, but he'd never been the best at hiding his emotions.
"Once I get my truck working, I'll be out your hair and on my way home," Malik grumbled.
"I'm not sure where you got that idea," Thea interjected, "but you're not bothering us. Not in the slightest. You saved our lives."
"If I didn't, you'd have never even given me a single thought. You wouldn't even know I existed." Malik's words were colder than an Antarctic ice cap. The muscles in his face were taut, and his hands were balled into fists at his side. "Look, I've met people like you before. Lots of money. Big house. Famous parents. The one thing I learned is that you're all the same."
The statement felt like a punch in the face. Henri squinted at Malik. Where's all this coming from? All Henri wanted to know was where the guy was from. He opened his mouth to retort, but Thea was quicker.
"Alright, well he's clearly projecting. I'm not sure what internal issues you've got going on, but they don't involve us." She moved toward the other end of the study, which held Simon Beck's workspace. "Henri, don't you have some looking around to do? You said this place would have some answers."
Henri nodded, grateful for the change in topic. He gave Malik a wary glance before joining his sister at the desk their father spent countless hours working at.
A sleek laptop sat in the center of the Black Walnut wood table. A stack of papers and yellow folders were piled on one end while the other side boasted a proud, handmade coffee mug with the words "World's Greatest Dad"—courtesy of a thirteen-year-old Thea—printed onto the side. Their father didn't drink coffee much anymore, but he used the mug to hold his collection of pens.
Behind the desk was a window that overlooked their front yard and the forest surrounding them. To the left of it stood a full suit of knight's armor. To the right of it was a glass case holding an original model of the infamous pirate ship, Queen Anne's Revenge. Other collectibles and historical knickknacks decorated the rest of the attic, giving it the appearance of a showroom in certain areas.
Everything still looked the same from the last time he'd been up there. Henri snooped through the papers his father left on his desk. Not even one mentioned anything about the Library of Alexandria. There weren't any clues on the man's laptop either. It didn't even have a password on it. So much for security.
"I'm not seeing anything here, Henri," Thea said while flipping through one of the folders. "I think it's time we go to the police—"
"No!" Henri's fingernails dug into the wood of the table. He shook his head with an air of defiance. "Not yet. There must be something in here that can tell us what's going on."
"What if there isn't?" Thea sent him a patronizing glance. "I know you're used to being right all the time, but maybe you were wrong about the library."
He shook his head again. He wasn't wrong. If he was, why did the name Aristeas gain them access to the study? Why did Sergei and those masked men steal that map? There were too many signs pointing toward the legendary Library of Alexandria. Pushing his sister's words out of his head, he looked around the room.
There has to be something in here...
He spotted Malik browsing the Ancient Egypt section of the expansive history book collection. His finger traced the edges of the glossy spines of the books, each one kept in near-perfect condition.
"How many books are in here?" Malik randomly asked.
"Huh?"
"Four hundred? Five hundred?"
Henri squinted at him. They didn't have time for stupid questions right now. He needed to find clues.
"That's it." Thea made her way toward the ladder on the other end of the study. "I'm calling the cops."
He wanted to stop her. He wanted to tell her he'd eventually find something, but a tiny voice told him he wouldn't. There wasn't anything else to look through inside the study. If they were going to find anything, it would've been somewhere on or in their father's desk.
But there was nothing.
Henri hung his head.
He had to find something. Anything. The memory of his parents being dragged away flashed through his mind. He'd been helpless then—too afraid and weak to stop it from happening. Now here he was, even more helpless than before.
Maybe Thea was right.
"It's getting pretty late," Malik said. "Maybe we should get some rest and get back at it in the morning?"
Henri checked his watch. Well past midnight.
Thea groaned. "Fine." She pointed a finger at her brother. "We'll give it until the morning. But if we don't find anything then, then we're going to the police. You got it?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it."
"Good."
With that, she descended the ladder, leaving the two boys alone in the attic. A tense silence filled the space between them. Malik awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before clearing his throat.
"Er, sorry about earlier." He sighed. "I just...all this stuff...it's a little overwhelming. I mean, I've never been to a place this nice. It just reminded me of how different my life is back home."
"The life I know nothing about, by the way," Henri joked. Upon seeing the deadpan expression on the other boy's face, he quickly apologized. "Look, I won't pretend like I know what you're experiencing, but I can't apologize for being born into this family. You may think you know us, but you don't. Just like how I don't know you."
Malik simply nodded. "You're right."
"'Course I am." Henri grinned. "Now, come on. Let me show you to your room for the night."
#
The Beck Estate had more rooms than it knew what to do with. They had a private theater, a game room, a home gym, and still had empty rooms. A few of them had been converted into guest bedrooms for when they had people over.
Henri gave his guest a tour of the mazy mansion on the way to one of the guestrooms. Malik didn't seem to mind as he rambled on about every little detail about the place. The entire walk through the house, he could feel the other boy's eyes on his back. He tried his best not to notice, but he'd never been in the presence of someone this handsome before.
Eventually, they arrived outside the door of the bedroom. Henri opened it, revealing a bland color pallet and IKEA furniture his mother's assistant picked out when furnishing all the auxiliary rooms throughout the house. Malik stepped inside, and he followed closely behind.
Without warning, Malik unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off, revealing his muscular frame beneath. A few small tattoos decorated his onyx skin. Henri instantly turned away, his face burning red.
"My bad," Malik said with a laugh. "I just...don't usually sleep with a shirt on. Or pants."
Of course you don't.
If Henri had been built like a Greek god, he wouldn't have slept clothed either. Alas, he spent almost no time in the gym. Upon seeing Malik's physique, he realized he needed to change that.
"Personally, I can't go a night without my satin pajamas," Henri said. "I've got sensitive skin."
"Satin pajamas? You really are something else, Henri."
His face went even redder. "That sounded incredibly elitist, huh?"
"Just a bit."
"I'm working on it. I spent too much time around those pompous arseholes in Westminster. They started to rub off on me."
Malik paused for a moment. "Well...I'm sure you're glad to be back here."
"Extremely."
Henri turned back around. The pair of them locked eyes. This guestroom wasn't very big, meaning they only stood a few feet away from each other. He wished there wasn't any space between them. Though, there wasn't any way to tell if Malik felt the same.
He'd been meaning to ask the all-important question, but it never seemed like a good time. But when was it ever a good time to ask someone about their sexuality? If he didn't ask, though, he knew it would gnaw away at him like termites destroying the foundation of an old home.
"I, uh, should probably get to bed," Henri quickly said. "Gonna get up bright and early to make breakfast before looking for more clues in the attic."
"You cook?"
"You don't?"
"Do ramen noodles and Hot Pockets count?"
Henri snorted back a laugh. "I don't think so."
A grin split Malik's face. "Well, I'm looking forward to your cooking. I bet it won't be my Gram's, though."
"We'll see about that."
Somehow, the two of them had inched closer to each other. He felt Malik's gaze, feeling him up like a pair of strong hands. A warm feeling spread throughout his midsection, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stay focused.
"You're gonna find them," Malik said.
Henri blinked, slightly confused.
"Your parents, I mean. You'll find them. While I haven't known you long, I can tell you're determined. And you're smart as hell. If you've got the will and the brains, you can accomplish anything. That's what my Grams always says."
"I'd love to meet your grandmother someday. She sounds lovely."
"Oh, she'd love you."
Henri dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment. When he lifted them, he noticed Malik staring right at him. Chewing on his bottom lip, he slipped his hands into his pockets.
"Goodnight, Malik," he eventually said.
"Goodnight, Henri."
#
For multiple reasons, Henri couldn't seem to fall asleep. One of them involved Malik. He couldn't get the boy out of his head. Whenever he closed his eyes, the crystal-clear image of his naked chest and gleaming, white smile teased him. Eventually, his brain moved on to something else. Something far less present.
His thoughts settled on the unknown fate of his parents. He had no idea where they were or if they were still alive. The optimist in him assured him they hadn't been killed. Not yet anyway. Sergei admitted he needed the Becks for whatever he and his gang were doing. However, the pessimist within Henri told him to prepare for the worst.
As he lay awake atop his bed in his dark bedroom, he couldn't help but think he missed something in his father's attic. Thea said he'd been working on something up there. The man wouldn't have gone through the trouble to lock up his study if there wasn't anything in there he didn't want getting out.
Henri must've missed something.
Thea told him he had until the morning to find a clue before she called the police.
He checked the ornate clock hanging high on the wall across the room. The clock's big hand just hit four. The sun would rise in the next two hours—which meant he had two more hours to search the study again.
With his heart pumping with newfound energy, he sat up abruptly. He removed the silk sheets from his body, slipped into his fuzzy slippers, and tip-toed out of his room. The hardwood floors were known to creak, and he didn't want to wake his sister down the hall. Knowing her, though, she probably wasn't asleep at all.
Ever since they'd been kids, Thea had trouble sleeping. He recalled all the nights he woke up thinking she was being brutally murdered because of the shrill screams pouring from her bedroom. He remembered how he'd remain frozen with terror in his bed while his parents rushed to her. She always woke up screaming the same thing. Even now, he could hear the chilling phrase deep in his ears.
"They're coming!"
He never knew what it meant. Neither did Thea, nor their parents. All Henri knew was that it scared him. Many things scared him. Fear had been controlling him for as long as he could remember. It overtook him again when his parents were taken. That couldn't happen again; he wouldn't let it. It was up to him to help find out what happened to his parents. Once he did, then he could see about finding a way to rescue them.
He'd figure this out.
He had to.
Making sure to keep his footsteps light, he moved through the mansion like an assassin stalking their target. He arrived on the third floor and stood before the glowing screen on the wall. After inputting the password to the attic, he made his way up the ladder for the second time.
He turned on the light switch and watched as the bulbs flickered to life.
The study looked the same as he left it. He wandered about aimlessly, his tired eyes blinking as he tried to figure out where his father would hide his work. As far as he knew, there were no secret rooms in their mansion, so anything his father would've been pouring his time into should've been up there.
"There's gotta be something in here..." he grumbled.
He found himself in front of the Ancient Egypt section of his father's book collection. Earlier, Malik had been eyeing The Alexandria Quartet, a set of books written by Lawrence Durrell about the city of Alexandria. Henri had only read them once. His father couldn't say the same. They were some of his favorite books in his entire collection.
Henri examined their worn, brown spines. The bronze lettering of their titles caught the light from the hanging bulbs overhead. There was Justine, Balthazar, Mountolive, and Clea—the four individual stories that made up the quartet. As he studied them, he noticed one—Mountolive—wasn't quite in line with the others. It jutted out like a sore thumb. When Henri went to pull it out to reposition it in the bookcase, a click sounded.
He snatched his hand away as panic sent a thousand pinpricks rushing up and down his arm.
"What the—"
The book snapped back into its position on the bookshelf. Gears turning and the sounds of a pulley system working met Henri's ears as he backed away from the bookcase. A section of the case retreated into the wall before sliding to the side. An opening into another, much-cramped room revealed itself.
Henri stared at the book he'd just pulled.
Had this secret room been here the whole time? He'd spent countless hours reading and exploring the attic before he left for England. Never had he come across this. Perhaps his father had it installed during his time away. Or perhaps Henri didn't know his old man as well as he thought.
He gazed upon the shadowy enclave ahead of him. It beckoned him inside, his curiosity coaxing him forward. Gnawing on his bottom lip, he squeezed his eyes shut. He inhaled deeply before exhaling, hoping all his nervousness would leave with the air fleeing his lungs. When he opened his eyes, he nodded determinedly at the secret room he'd just discovered.
Without a second thought, he stepped inside.