Deleted Scene:
Natalie’s Excursion to Oxford
(replaced by Paris)
**This excerpt is entirely unedited and unrevised, offering a blunt look into how much a story’s prose is developed in editing stage of the writing process. (In other words: please withhold judgement for typos and awkward flow. This work never aged to maturity.)**
Enzi lapped water from his collapsible bowl and dribbled it messily over the book in Natalie’s lap. She brushed the droplets away, scanning the blur of fields beyond the window.
“Almost there,” she whispered to him.
After nearly missing the train because of some debate between conductors on whether or not Enzi could ride, Natalie was relieved to finally see the city. Not to mention Enzi was getting restless.
When the train finally screeched to a stop in the station, Natalie and Enzi were first off. With a firm grip on the backpack slung over her shoulder and Enzi’s collar, she followed the mass of people towards the exit. She felt the autumn breeze before she saw the street. With a final push through the crowd, Natalie burst out of the terminal and onto the pavestone sidewalk.
It was like stepping into a dream. Stunning stone buildings funneled weak sunlight down the path, casting intricate shadows on the pavement. Black glass turned windows into shimmering puddles and smooth carvings dressed up the sides of the buildings. Medieval spires pierced the low hanging clouds, their magnificence pulled Natalie forward.
She craned her neck upwards in awe, stumbling more than once on uneven paver stones beneath her feet. Strangers passed her quietly in small groups. Enzi padded along next to her, his nose straight in the air taking in the novel breeze.
A golden structure peeked between buildings a few streets over and Natalie weaved towards it. Despite the crowded sidewalks and mountains of stone sculpted around her, the quaint city was surprisingly quiet. Even her own footsteps were muffled.
A proud wall of stone rose before her with gothic spikes reaching into the sky. Black tinted windows reflected the muted light of the sun, making the entire structure appear to glow from the inside out. Columns and filigree decorated the carved archway that lead into the inner courtyard.
She grit her teeth against the tightness in her chest. Before her parents had disappeared, before she knew about sparks and tacking, before she was captured by Nautilus trying to rescue them, before normalcy was replaced with impossibilities, she had been accepted to study at Oxford.
“This is where we’re supposed to be,” she whispered to Enzi. “Not Ancora. Not the Helix. Right here.”
Natalie traced the cold masonry, her fingers catching on worn grain and imperfections in the stone. Though she had never seen the library in person, it was no stranger to her. She had studied its history, she knew its past and its potential. She knew its walls had stood strong for over five centuries, but nothing could escape the wear of time.
Time’s ability to heal is celebrated while its capacity for damage is ignored.
The courtyard felt warmer than the streets outside. People passed her silently, no one willing to interrupt the peace found in the quiet. Nearing the entrance, Natalie passed under the shadow of a bronze statue. She couldn’t remember his name, but knew from his ceremonial garb he must have been a Duke or an Earl.
“Miss?” A middle-aged man with an impressive mustache and dark uniform arrived next to her. He gestured towards a group of teens and parents armed with backpacks and cameras. “The tour is departing.”
“Oh,” Natalie flushed. “Right.”
He guided her to the group of strangers and Natalie ducked her head to blend in. She choked down a lump in her throat. If things had been different, if she had been allowed to grow up like a normal kid…
I wouldn’t be a tourist, I would be a student.
A light tap on her shoulder halted her at the threshold. Her stomach sank as the group disappeared inside. She had been so close.
“Ah, no pups, miss.” The same tour-guide raised a bushy eyebrow in Enzi’s direction.
None the wiser, Enzi’s pink tongue hung out the side of his mouth as he watched birds flitting in and out of the library courtyard.
“Of course,” Natalie breathed a sigh of relief.
She directed Enzi to the side of the entrance and lifted a flat palm towards the sky. Enzi promptly sat with his ears perked to attention. Natalie turned her palm to face him and lightly touched it to his muzzle. He licked her once and when she walked back to the doorway, he stayed put. As she watched, his eyes flicked from her to the birds but she wasn’t worried. He would stay where he told her.
Satisfied, the mustached man gave Natalie a curt nod and, holding her breath, she stepped inside.
A cavernous hall laid before her. Giant windows bathed the carved columns and intricate ceiling in natural light. Local students and residents weaved through the clumps of tourists who gaped at the architecture in awe. The tile floor was cracked and worn from centuries of use. The realization that renowned scholars, inventors, and even kings had once stood on the same worn patch of stone gave Natalie goosebumps.
She hurried to catch up with her impromptu tour group. They wound past the gift shop and public reading rooms. She followed them up a grand staircase and past halls filled with books from the floor to the ceiling. The tour guide buffeted the group with facts and figures but for the most part, Natalie ignored them. She just wanted a glimpse into the life she could have had.
As the group was led down the corridor of the top floor, Natalie hung back. A few of the book rooms they passed were empty. When the group became captivated by a gorgeous overlook of the floors below, Natalie seized the opportunity to casually side-step into a vacant reading room.
It was like stepping into a dream. The wide window overlooked the gleaming courtyard below and illuminated the crowded shelves of books. Natalie traced the spines of the works next to her. She found what appeared to be the oldest book on the shelf and pulled it into her hands. It was heavy and the cloth binding was frayed and soft. She opened the parchment papers and lifted the book to her nose, the vanilla sweet aroma dissolving tension from her shoulders.
“Hello friend,” she whispered, returning the book to its home on the shelf.
Her eyes drifted to its neighbor and she froze. There was no title on the cloth-bound spine, nor author. Instead, on the upper third of the binding in peeling gold foil, a familiar symbol glinted at her.
Natalie trembled as she pulled the book from its shelf. It’s pages were worn and even torn in places. The golden symbol dominated the cover with four words painstakingly painted beneath it.
“The Sceptical Chymist,” Natalie breathed. “Robert Boyle.”
“Miss?”
Natalie jumped so hard she nearly dropped the book.
“You’re not supposed to be in here, miss.” A woman in a dark uniform glared at her sternly. “The Bodleian has very strict rules regarding the handling of our titles. I must insist you return to your tour or you will be forcibly removed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Natalie managed, her cheeks flushed in shame. She hurried to replace the book on its shelf and rushed past the stone-faced woman. “My apologies.”
She felt the employee’s eyes on her the entire way back to her adoptive tour group. Pretending to be captivated by the guide’s presentation, Natalie kept tabs on the woman who had caught her as she resumed her rounds. After telling off a few other wandering tourists, the woman’s pin-straight ponytail disappeared around the corner.
Face your fear, Natalie bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. What she was about to do...she cursed under her breath. Where’s Tawney when you need her?
“I don’t feel well,” Natalie announced to the group of strangers. Many of the parental forces amongst the touring teens turned towards in concern. The attention worsened the burgundy blotches staining her neck and cheeks. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
For once in my life the effect is useful.
“Why don’t you get some air, sweetie?” A particularly concerned mother suggested.
Natalie nodded and, turning on her heels, walked briskly back the way they had come. She doubted the plan she had managed to throw together in a manner of minutes would amount to anything other than landing her in jail, but she had to try.
Don’t think.
Natalie rushed into the reading room she had been caught in. She shoved The Chymist into her backpack and ran. She knew the librarian was right, the Bodleian did have strict rules. Books leaving the premises was forbidden. Taking them to America was simply outlandish.
Natalie couldn’t hear her steps on the stairwell. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her breath came in shallow waves. Every inhale she expected to feel the librarian’s cold hands pulling her back. Every exhale she expected the flashing lights and screaming siren of alarms. But she reached the ground floor alone and in silence.
She hurried through the tourist packed foyer as fast as the crowd would allow. Strangers buffeted into her and more than once she nearly fumbled completely. Finally, she burst through the exit.
A hard force struck her across the chest and she fell flat out onto her back on the landing. Natalie groaned and coughed.
“Miss!” The mustached guard stared down at her with shock but made no move to help her up. “Why were you running, lady?”
Tawney would have seen that coming.
“I’m sick, sir,” Natalie pushed herself into a sitting position and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Very ill.”
His grey eyebrows furrowed as he guided her to her feet. “Terribly sorry, miss. Market’s just a block over. They’ll have somethin’ for you, sure as rain.” He patted her back gently.
“Thank you.” Natalie resisted the urge to check if anyone from inside the Bodleian library was following her. Instead, she turned to call Enzi to her, but he was not where she left him.
Natalie’s stomach churned for real. She could feel the color draining from her face as she spun in a small circle, checking every small crowd for a blur of white fur. The guard tried to calm her but Natalie pulled away from him, suspicious.
“Where is he?” Natalie demanded. She scanned his uniform for a pin, an emblem, any sign he was with Nautilus, but found nothing. “Where is Enzi?”
The man scoffed at her sudden rudeness and raised his hands in irritation.
“Your bloody pooch went that way,” he pointed down a side street.
“Sorry. Thanks.” She didn’t stay to explain her erratic behavior. There wasn’t time. Natalie sprinted down the street with her right hand tight on the pistol hidden in her waistband.
She emerged onto a crowded sidewalk and nearly sprinted straight into the street. Stopping, she turned and scanned the crowd. Despite her panic, she didn’t dare scream for him.
A high-pitched giggling caught her ear and she turned towards it. A group of girls fawned over something at their feet, something fluffy and white. Natalie wound her way towards them, watching the crowd for anyone that may be watching her. But when she reached them, Natalie realized the scene was as innocent as it seemed: a couple of students adoring an attention deprived puppy.
Enzi looked up at Natalie from his back, with all four paws curled up in the air as the girls rubbed his stomach. Recognizing her, he leapt up and placed his front paws on her shoulders.
“Enzi,” Natalie breathed into his warm fur. Tears brimmed her eyes and her lip quivered but she bit back her emotions. She couldn’t tell if she was relieved or overwhelmed or completely pissed off.
“You should have stayed where I told you,” she scolded him.
“He’s yours?” a girl with freckles sighed as though she was disappointed.
“Of course he’s owned, Kelly,” one of the others rolled her eyes.
“He’s great,” a girl with brown eyes and a kind face smiled at her. “Do you guys want to join us for supper? We’re headed to the Taphouse.”
Natalie stared at them. With the packs on their backs and books in their arms it was obvious they were students. For an instant, she saw herself among them. Stressing over classes not cults. Struggling to pass not to survive. Calling mom and dad when things got hard instead of speaking to a silent polished stone.
“Do you want to come with us?” the girl repeated.
The stolen book in Natalie’s backpack suddenly weighed her down, reminding her she would never be one of them.
“Maybe some other time,” Natalie smiled weakly at them. “We have to be going. Thanks for looking after him.”
The girls waved goodbye and Enzi watched them go with his head cocked.
“Come on, boy. Let’s get home.”
They wound their way back to the train station and purchased two one-way tickets to seaside Brighton. Aboard the train, Enzi instantly fell asleep with his head in her lap. Natalie struggled to mimic his level of comfort. Tucked between her and the seat, the stolen book burned against her side like a hot coal. She watched fields and small towns pass in a blur outside the window, wondering if she had made a huge mistake.
The triquetra has meant many things throughout time. The odds of this book being specifically related to The Coelacanth Project are… Natalie sighed. Owen would know the numbers, I just know they aren’t good.
She bit her cheek as the weight of her doubt settled in her stomach.
I stole from one of the oldest libraries in all of Europe. Natalie leaned her head against the leather seat cushion. They’ll certainly never let me in now.
“Goodbye, Oxford.”