should look like—dark paneling, huge stone fireplace, Persian rug, leather furniture, study tables and desks, and shelves of books that ringed the room, so tall there was a ladder on a track that could be pushed around to get whatever book you wanted.
“So where do we star—” I frowned. “Wait a minute. I thought you weren’t allowed inside. This isn’t it, is it?”
He rocked back on his heels and smiled. “Nope.”
He guided me across the large room to the corner and stopped. Bookshelves. A plant. An enormous old vase. I wasn’t sure what he was looking at . . . maybe something on the shelf?
I stepped closer.
Sebastian stared at the six-and-a-half-foot-tall vase. It was so big I could’ve crawled inside it and curled up easily. It had two sloping handles on each side with specks of black paint. The opening at the top was wider than my shoulders. It had a slim neck, and a body that fattened out in the middle and then slimmed down again before widening out at the base.
It looked incredibly ancient, made of clay or terra-cotta, I guessed. There were lines and symbols and figures stamped around its body.
The thing that stood out the most was the long, jagged crack down the front, from the neck of the vase to just above the base. It was deep and dark in the center, showing just how thick the vase was.
“Okay,” I said, obviously missing something. “What are we looking at?”
“Anesidora’s Jar. Otherwise known as Pandora’s Box.”
I blinked, looking at him skeptically. “What?” A nervous laugh escaped me. He wasn’t laughing back—not a good sign. I glanced from him to the jar. His expression stayed serious. “Uh, hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a box.”
“It never was. It was always a jar. Some dude translated the original Greek word into Latin and called it a box instead of a jar. And the term just kind of stayed.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with the library.”
“This is the library, Ari. Inside this jar is—Well, here, let me show you.”
He reached for my hand, but I stepped back. He was playing some sort of joke. He had to be. Right? A current of wariness swept through me.
“Look, I know it’s crazy, but . . . this jar was given to some of the earliest doué . A gift from a god no one can name. It’s a place for all things important, sacred to the ancestors of the Novem families and passed down as a library for our secrets, a place where no god can go. It holds artifacts, tablets, books, scrolls. Our entire history is in this jar. It can’t be destroyed and it holds anything you put inside it.”
Yeah, right. “I thought you weren’t supposed to open Pandora’s Box.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t know about that. Probably just a myth.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Really. Just a myth ,” I said in a flat tone, and waved a hand at him. “Says the warlock vampire to the gorgon.”
A slow grin drew his lips apart. “I see your point.”
I smiled despite myself, and then shook my head, turning back around to face the enormous jar. “So, what, press a secret combination and it opens? Or do I just pull off the lid?” The thing was big enough to hold a bunch of books and scrolls, so all I had to do was open it and hope to hell they were in a language I could understand.
“No, you just pull open the crack and step inside.” At my blink, he explained: “Pandora never opened her ‘box.’ It cracked. You can read about it inside if you want. It’s all there. Way more than you’d ever want to know. . . .”
“You’re not coming?”
He shook his head. “Can’t. I’m not supposed to have access to the library until I take over from my father. It’s the same for all the heirs.”
“But didn’t your dad sneak you in?”
“When I was little, yeah, but he was breaking Novem rules when he did, so don’t go around repeating that.”
“So how will I know what to look for, how to find the stuff on Athena? I don’t suppose the Novem
“So where do we star—” I frowned. “Wait a minute. I thought you weren’t allowed inside. This isn’t it, is it?”
He rocked back on his heels and smiled. “Nope.”
He guided me across the large room to the corner and stopped. Bookshelves. A plant. An enormous old vase. I wasn’t sure what he was looking at . . . maybe something on the shelf?
I stepped closer.
Sebastian stared at the six-and-a-half-foot-tall vase. It was so big I could’ve crawled inside it and curled up easily. It had two sloping handles on each side with specks of black paint. The opening at the top was wider than my shoulders. It had a slim neck, and a body that fattened out in the middle and then slimmed down again before widening out at the base.
It looked incredibly ancient, made of clay or terra-cotta, I guessed. There were lines and symbols and figures stamped around its body.
The thing that stood out the most was the long, jagged crack down the front, from the neck of the vase to just above the base. It was deep and dark in the center, showing just how thick the vase was.
“Okay,” I said, obviously missing something. “What are we looking at?”
“Anesidora’s Jar. Otherwise known as Pandora’s Box.”
I blinked, looking at him skeptically. “What?” A nervous laugh escaped me. He wasn’t laughing back—not a good sign. I glanced from him to the jar. His expression stayed serious. “Uh, hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a box.”
“It never was. It was always a jar. Some dude translated the original Greek word into Latin and called it a box instead of a jar. And the term just kind of stayed.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with the library.”
“This is the library, Ari. Inside this jar is—Well, here, let me show you.”
He reached for my hand, but I stepped back. He was playing some sort of joke. He had to be. Right? A current of wariness swept through me.
“Look, I know it’s crazy, but . . . this jar was given to some of the earliest doué . A gift from a god no one can name. It’s a place for all things important, sacred to the ancestors of the Novem families and passed down as a library for our secrets, a place where no god can go. It holds artifacts, tablets, books, scrolls. Our entire history is in this jar. It can’t be destroyed and it holds anything you put inside it.”
Yeah, right. “I thought you weren’t supposed to open Pandora’s Box.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t know about that. Probably just a myth.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Really. Just a myth ,” I said in a flat tone, and waved a hand at him. “Says the warlock vampire to the gorgon.”
A slow grin drew his lips apart. “I see your point.”
I smiled despite myself, and then shook my head, turning back around to face the enormous jar. “So, what, press a secret combination and it opens? Or do I just pull off the lid?” The thing was big enough to hold a bunch of books and scrolls, so all I had to do was open it and hope to hell they were in a language I could understand.
“No, you just pull open the crack and step inside.” At my blink, he explained: “Pandora never opened her ‘box.’ It cracked. You can read about it inside if you want. It’s all there. Way more than you’d ever want to know. . . .”
“You’re not coming?”
He shook his head. “Can’t. I’m not supposed to have access to the library until I take over from my father. It’s the same for all the heirs.”
“But didn’t your dad sneak you in?”
“When I was little, yeah, but he was breaking Novem rules when he did, so don’t go around repeating that.”
“So how will I know what to look for, how to find the stuff on Athena? I don’t suppose the Novem
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