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I can’t help but laugh at her insanity. I love that she says what she’s thinking, no holds barred. There’s not an ounce of pretense or falseness about her.
“What am I going to do with you?” I groan.
But deep down? I’m a little curious now, too. What exactly does Gideon have hidden in his pants? And then there’s his book. Can’t forget that book, I remind myself quickly. It’s the only reason I agreed to meet him.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
chapter
four
Gideon
I run my hand over the dark blue, intricately embossed leather cover of the Elysium Chronicles. The nooks and crannies of the leather are as fascinating as what’s inside, but the book isn’t that important to me anymore. I’ve owned it for a very long time and forgot about it until I needed a reason to contact Verity.
In fact, it took me two weeks of trying to conjure up a reason to contact her before I remembered the ancient book. I have no children who need tutoring in obscure, sometimes lost, languages. So I needed an excuse.
Now I’ve remembered the book I put away a long time ago when I couldn’t completely decipher the thing, my curiosity has increased. What exactly is it? Many have said it’s a mad person’s insanity on vellum. Others say it’s a book of fiction. But in the shadows of the night, deep in whispered conversations, it’s said to be a book that escaped Tir Na Nog and that the Tuatha de Danaan, the ancient gods of Ireland, still search for it.
I don’t know for sure where the Elysium Chronicles came from, though I doubt it came from some lost Irish gods. The book isn’t written in anything like ancient Gaelic. But in the back of my mind, I remember something about fishermen from mainland Europe finding their way to Ireland long before the Gaels. So, perhaps the manuscript could be Gaelic? Or something more ancient.
I have a feeling Verity will know the answer. That’s why I’m sitting in the restaurant she’s chosen, awaiting her arrival. I look around, searching the crowd inside for her face. I expected her to come alone, but disappointment dulls my excitement when I finally spot her. She’s with another woman.
I know the redhead must be Verity’s friend because Verity keeps bending her head to whisper to the other woman.
I catch her eyes and raise my hand, waiting while the pair walk over to the table. I smile despite my disappointment and stand as the women reach my table.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” I say with a pleasant smile still in place.
One of my snakes hisses in the direction of Verity’s friend, but she simply hisses back and pushes her chin-length hair behind her ear. She’s a pretty woman, but I only have eyes for Verity.
She’s even more beautiful with her hair loose down her back, but she’s wearing glasses today. Thick, multicolored plastic rims frame her eyes, but they don’t detract from her gorgeous features. I appreciate her white cable-knit sweater, black pencil skirt, and Doc Martens before she takes her seat. She has a quirky sense of fashion, but it works for her.
“Good afternoon, Gideon. This is my friend, Alice. When she found out I was coming to Rosalia’s, she asked if she could come along and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Verity smiles pleasantly, but the smugness behind it tells me she doesn’t care if I know that last part was a lie. She asked Alice to come along. I’m not offended. Verity should protect herself and proceed with caution when meeting a stranger—even if that stranger is me.
“I love the pita bread here. It’s got such an amazing flavor, don’t you think? Or have you not been here before? Do you mind if I slither past you and sit here, Gideon?” Alice asks, smiling at me with lively blue eyes.
She’s flirting, but I’m not interested.
I smile politely and move out of her way so she can get by.“No, I haven’t been here before, but I’m looking forward to trying something from the menu. Verity, perhaps you’d like to look over the book while I see what’s on the menu?”
I slide the Elysium Chronicles over to Verity and watch as she brushes her fingers over the leather. The gesture makes me smile inwardly. She’s as intrigued by the manuscript as I am.
“I know I asked to meet here, but it feels wrong exposing this to the elements,” she says, biting her plump bottom lip.
I shrug. “It’s been in my desk drawer for ages.”
Verity frowns like I’ve just stolen candy from a small child. “Are you crazy? This book is priceless!” She pulls cotton gloves from her purse and slides them on her small hands. “I can’t believe this could help us decipher the Lenayovitch Tome. It’s obviously old.” Verity speaks quietly, as though to herself, but I hear her.
I love every note of her voice, which reminds me of swirling smoke, wrapping me in a serene, white haze. I shouldn’t feel like this about a human woman, but I can’t help myself.
She opens the front panel and gasps at the colorful beauty of the title page. The ancient letters are all decorated with the tiniest vines and flowers, and the rest of the page is covered in bright dots that form dragons and other animals that don’t exist in this world. Do they exist somewhere else?
“I can’t believe you’re holding something so hiss-toric, Verity,” Alice says.
I sigh. Fuck my life. Her friend is cute but not my type, and I’ve heard every snake pun under the sun and then some.
“It’s been preserved remarkably well”—Verity is oblivious to Alice’s attempt at humour as she glares at my chin—“considering it’s been kept in a desk drawer.”
