Celeste Ledgerwood's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Warren stood between Celeste and the breathing book. His teeth caught the light. She kept her hands loose and her voice flat, because pushing this rabbit blindly was a good way to lose a finger. First she needed to know why he guarded the ledger like his life hung on it. "Truce," she said. "Tell me why you're chained to this thing." Warren's grin dropped. "I'm not chained." But his ears flattened, and his boots didn't move an inch. Celeste filed that away. Guards who won't step aside are usually paying a debt. Outside, the calico slid through the door and sat. Its purr broke into that sharp, clicking rattle. Celeste followed the cat's stare to a low window. A rat crouched on the sill. It had leathery wings and one green eye, one red. It licked its teeth and watched Warren, not her. "That's your problem, isn't it," Celeste said. "Not me. Him." Warren snarled. "He drinks names. Every soul in the book, he wants. He takes a little each night. I bite him back. We fight. He heals. We fight again." His shoulders sagged. "I've fought him a hundred nights." The rat leaped. Warren met it midair. They rolled across the floor, teeth and claws, a blur of white fur and grey. The rat bit Warren's ear. Warren tore its wing. They broke apart, circled, and slammed together again. Blood dotted the black lectern. "Okay, that's the whole plot," Celeste muttered. "They fight forever and nobody wins." She scanned the room for anything useful. On a shelf sat a strange carrot, ringed with faint glowing swirls. Beside it lay an avocado carved with tiny runes. She'd seen enough films to know set dressing was never just set dressing. She grabbed the carrot. Its swirls warmed her palm. She felt the pull of it, a thing that bent minds. She held it toward the rat. "Stop," she said. Her voice came out heavy, certain. The rat froze mid-lunge. Its red eye fixed on the carrot. "You don't want these names," Celeste told it. "You want the well outside. It's endless. Drink there forever." The rat's ears twitched. The carrot's power poured through her words. It turned, crawled to the window, and slipped out toward the old stone well. Its hunger had a new home. Warren sat panting on the floor. He stared at Celeste. "He's gone." "He's gone," she said. "You're off shift." Warren looked at the ledger, then at her. For the first time his teeth weren't a threat. "You didn't want to steal it. You wanted to help it." "I want to count it," Celeste said. "Every name. Balanced." Warren stepped aside. The lectern stood open. But as Celeste reached for the breathing pages, the rat's rattling cry rose from the well, and the water below began to glow with stolen names.