Liminal (The Arcanaeum #1)

by Marie Mistry

Since he appeared three months ago, I’ve been dodging every single hug he’s directed my way, just in case it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. There have been twenty-eight hug attempts so far this month. Twenty-eight. He’s just that touchy.

I narrowly avoid the latest hug attempt

I will myself into non-existence. To anyone watching, I vanish, but in reality, I’m still here, just…part of the furniture. Literally. I allow my awareness to seep into the Arcanaeum, and my ghostly form ceases to exist. Sometimes this feels like resting—the closest I can get to sleep—but not now. Now it feels like spying. I’m fine with that.

A book that the pot is resting on top of. I hiss in panic, snatching both from him and examining the dirty ring left on the cover with dismay. The Arcanaeum can fix it, but stars! Why would anyone do that in the first place?

Leo and Lambert head to their normal table, which is being unsubtly inched towards my seat by the Arcanaeum as we speak.

“Now he’s unconscious and cluttering up the room,” I grumble.

“Oh, I’m sure that doesn’t hurt his ego at all,” Eddy mutters under her breath, shooting another look at me. “I’ve not known him long,” Jasper mutters. “But I’m fairly certain there’s very little that can do that.”

“Baby girl, I am so sorry,” I whisper under my breath. Because there she is, a masterpiece of diamond-like crystal atop an altar of death, her face caught in a scream, a dagger buried deep and gleaming into her heart.

Kyrith is one of the most isolated people I’ve ever met. If she had magical CCTV, she’d at least understand some of the more basic modern references we’ve made during tutoring. I never want to see Lambert demonstrate twerking again.

“It needs sparkles!” I drop my head into my hands and let out a frustrated little growl as she summons a string of plastic pearls into her hands. Somewhere above us, the Arcanaeum summons a matching string and waits to see what she does with it.

“Eddy, did you do this? That tree’s huge! Arcanaeum, dude, you are looking slick.” The building preens, and another two-dozen ribbon bows appear on the tree. I sigh noisily,

“The decorations are amazing, though.” A hundred more tiny wisplights flicker into being at his words, illuminating the proudly decorated tree even more. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter to the building, giving up when it simply adds more poxy ribbons in retaliation.

“You did great,” I choke out as my arms wrap around his body. Then I jerk like I’ve touched a live wire. Feeling erupts, like I knew it would; the blade of it is so sharp that it cuts. Catches. Tears. This much sensation after so long without it is pure agony, but I fight past the pain and tilt my head back to claim his lips. One final kiss. A loving touch to finish it. I wanted that much, at least.

“Fuck that!” I retort, brushing him off. I dive for the handle and yank on it with all of my strength. “She’s screaming.”