Chapter 2
With a cup of coffee in my hand, I couldn't exactly run up the stairs, but I did try to hurry my steps to the library. I hustled past Brianna's table, the sight of it bereft of its usual chaos of books, journals, pens, and abandoned cups of half-finished tea still so unsettling.
I averted my eyes from my own desk at the end of the next aisle between bookshelves. Miss Zenobia Weekes' journal waited there, still opened to the first page, all of Brianna's notes on translating and decoding the text taped helpfully to the wall over the desk. My own notebook meant to be filled with the translation only contained a few spare sentences.
I told myself that what Otto and I were working on was surely a better use of my time then sitting in the library translating an old journal in the ho
