Warring Logics (Book 1 of The Institute of Fantasiological Studies)

I press my hands to my eyes and take deep breaths, trying to stop the tears.

I’m not going to cry. I’m an adult for goodness sake! I just need….

More tears slip down my face as the car bumps along the road. I take in deep breaths trying to calm myself as devastation rolls through me.

I’ve ruined everything.

I pull my arms over my face to hide from von Graf, keeping my eyes closed, and pull my knees up to my chest so I fold into myself. It feels like the bottom has fallen out of my life, I don’t know the point anymore.

I hear von Graf mutter something before I feel hands around my waist pulling at me. The seatbelt bites into my chest and left hip before I hear a clicking noise and feel it snap across my chest harshly before catching on my raised arm. I lower my arm to see what he is up to when I am grabbed again and he halls me over to his lap, causing my things between us to unceremoniously fall to the car floor as my legs drag across the seat.

“Wha-?”

He wraps his arms around me and begins to bounce me like a baby, “don’t cry, Mäuschen”

His unexpected sweetness makes me cry harder.

“What am I doing wrong?” I feel von Graf’s breath on the top of my head as he speaks to someone in the front of the car.

“She is your beloved” I hear Hans say above the noise of the car.

I am. Or was. I don’t know now.

My stomach hurts from the strength of my sobs and each of von Graf’s bounces causes a startling pinch to my insides.

“What… what are you… doing?” I remove my hands from my face to look up at von Graf’s shadow-covered face.

“Comforting you,” he says awkwardly.

I open my mouth to say something, apologize maybe, when the car comes to a slow stop. I look out the window into the darkness of the night.

Bright gold letters shine through the night making me blink my raw eyes. This isn’t my home, this is the coven house, the Goldkellerei.

I feel von Graf move under me and I scoot to get off of him when he holds me steady with one arm while undoing his seatbelt.

A click and the door is opened, Hans’ face peering down at me. “Come on little human,” he says in a surprisingly soft voice.

“Why am I here?” I look up at Hans. It makes no sense. I turn to look at von Graf and repeat, “why am I here?”

No one answers me, but von Graf uses his large hands to lift me a little and I get the point. I scoot my legs so I can get out. Standing up, I see that Hans is avoiding my eyes, suspiciously.

I feel von Graf stand up behind me and I take a few steps forward, towards the restaurant where I assume we are heading. I’ve stopped crying, although small sniffles remain, mostly because of my confusion- I really thought they were taking me home.

“Come, Alexis” von Graf called me Alexis, what does that mean? He touches the small of my back and guides me forward.

I swallow hard as I walk up the steps to the small porch before letting von Graf ahead of me to open the door. As he fumbles with the key, their clanging the only noise in the air, I turn back to see Hans and Albert following us, their faces drawn.

With a click, von Graf swings the door open and I step into the eerie darkness of the empty foyer. Nothing gleams or glistens in the lack of light. Instead, it’s the muted greys of a mostly dark room along with the heavy staleness of a room that has been absent of people for several hours that greets me.

What time of the night is it?

Von Graf steps around me again, walking towards the restaurant. I follow him with Hans and Albert following us. We are all quiet as we walk through the deserted restaurant, along the corridor in the back, and down the stairs. As we go through the basement hallway to von Graf’s office, I begin to feel overwhelmed and tired, everything that has happened tonight hitting me all at once.

Von Graf unlocks his office door and opens it for me to go in. I step through the door into the pitch dark room. It smells faintly like him, a cedar-y musk, and like old books.

I hear the door shut and I spin, searching wildly through the darkness for a moment before the lights flicker on.

Von Graf is standing near the door, his strong jaw tight, his eyes weary, a piece of his blond hair falling over his forehead. He is in casual clothing for once, tight dark wash jeans wrap around his long legs and a dark cable knit sweater hands from his broad shoulders. He looks… beautiful… beautiful and sad.

“We need to talk” is all he says