Chapter 24
Jade
The hidden library smelled like dust, old vellum, and faint ozone, the lingering trace of magic that had soaked into the stones long before I ever arrived in Hillcrest Hollow.
I sat hunched at a table, an old trestle one they’d somehow hauled down here for me.
A ruined folio lay in front of me, its spine split, pages warped and blackened as if something had tried to erase it from existence rather than simply destroy it.
Which, judging by the past week, was exactly what had happened.
I brushed my fingers carefully along a page fragment as I worked to retrieve words from the page with what tools I had available.
It wasn’t enough. Once pristine, this book was now damaged beyond my ability to fully repair.
That would require magic, which I didn’t have, sadly.
The work I could do to preserve what remained was slow.
Painfully slow. It required the kind of meticulous patience that usually soothed me, but today, my thoughts kept wandering.
So much had changed during the past week, and I felt like a different person because of it.
The morning after the attack on the library and me, my luggage had just appeared in Luther’s bedroom.
I wasn’t sure if it was Luther’s doing or if Gwen had brought my things over.
The result was that I was now living with a vampire and his bat familiar, and…
well, the thought made my mouth curve despite myself.
Living with Luther was both strange and lovely, and disorienting in the best possible way.
He cooked like a five-star chef with a grudge against mediocrity, every meal a small masterpiece.
I’d learned not to ask too many questions about the deep red liquid he drank with dinner, especially since he never pressured me to comment on his fangs, his impossible speed, or the centuries of history lurking behind his icy gray eyes.
If anything, those things made me feel safer.
Which said a lot about how thoroughly Hillcrest Hollow had rewired my sense of normal.
Vampires were just part of life, and so was a griffin sheriff, and, as it turns out, an alpha wolf for a mayor.
The repair shop was run by more wolves, and a lovely lynx-shifter lady often hung out there.
That soft-spoken guy with the healing hands?
Turns out he was a troll who lived by a bridge and actually demanded toll if you crossed it.
That’s also who supplied Luther with delicious salmon, I’d discovered.
The town itself had rallied in ways that still made me smile and feel all warm inside.
As if it were normal to come together and help like that, they hadn’t even wanted to hear my thanks.
The sheriff and some of the townsfolk, led by Gwen, had tackled all the physical repair work.
They replaced floorboards, repaired shelves, and replastered and repainted the walls.
Then the less mundane part of the restoration work had started: magical protections were to be layered over the building and used to reinforce the hidden library beneath it—first by Thorne, a surly, dark-haired man with eyes like storm clouds and a personality to match.
He’d grunted his way through installing wards, barely acknowledging anyone.
Then came the second layer, which had been much more interesting to watch.
These were applied by a Native American man with golden, dragon-bright eyes, who spoke in a deep rumble and smiled like he knew secrets the rest of us could only guess at.
His magic had settled into the bones of the building like a promise.
Now, the hidden library felt guarded. Protected.
Too bad the books hadn’t been afforded the same mercy.
Well, Belfry said into my mind, his voice dramatic as ever, this is dreadfully dull compared to goat-watching.
I snorted softly and glanced from my work to where he’d settled down for a nap earlier that morning.
He hung upside down from a nearby shelf, his tiny silk vest pristine, gold chain glinting even in the low light.
“You’re just mad Mr. Peters locked them up,” I said to him.
He’d been grumpy when he followed me here, too little sleep, but he insisted anyway, telling me there was no way he’d leave my side when I needed his protection.
Both he and Luther were like that, truthfully: hovering a little, as if they feared that creature could come back for another round.
I didn’t think so, and I had better protection than a tiny bat anyway.
There was a guard by the stairs, watching quietly when Luther wasn’t keeping me company himself.
He shouldn’t have done that, Belfry huffed.
Those goats are a hoot. Now I’m deprived because everyone is worried about being eaten.
I heard a dejected ruffling of his wings, and though I’d refocused my attention on the manuscript I was trying to restore and preserve, I still knew he was adjusting his vest.
Lifting my gaze from the ancient vellum, I glanced at the darkened doorway, where silence pressed heavy.
“Given the mutilated corpses turning up in the woods, I’d say it’s a reasonable concern.
” A very reasonable one, apparently—the poor old satyr had already lost several of his herd, and he was in all states.
The sheriff was warning everyone not to go near the farm, as they might find themselves on the wrong end of a shotgun barrel.
Yes, yes, Belfry said. Very tragic. Very alarming.
Still, the goats were charming, fun. This isn’t fun, Jade.
He flicked a wing toward the damaged and torn manuscript in front of me, like it had personally offended him.
I curled an arm protectively around it, but he didn’t move.
So I adjusted my white gloves and continued my work.
A presence shifted near the door, so subtle I might’ve missed it, if I hadn’t been hyperaware all week.
Drew, the deputy assigned to guard me, stepped back as another figure approached.
I knew instantly who it was from the way my heart sped up eagerly and warmth settled in the pit of my stomach.
The links of gold and jade clinked together delicately around my wrist.
Luther. Relief washed through me, warm and instinctive.
He crossed the room with that effortless grace of his, setting a small crate of supplies beside me before cupping my face and kissing me in that deep, slow, familiar way I was beginning to get used to.
We had not talked about the mating mark or our future, and I was content, for now, to let it rest.
There was a delicate balance between us, and I rather enjoyed his company now that I realized his stern looks weren’t full of judgment, but of care.
We were working, right now, especially in bed, but also in many other ways.
I’d decided to see where things were headed first; after all, I’d have to be an idiot not to notice that all these “soulmates” in town were absolutely right for one another.
It was impossible not to hope that it was like that for Luther and me too.
“How goes the battle?” he asked softly. He perched against the table next to me, his warmth bathing my side.
I had not realized that a chill had begun to set in, but this basement was a little cool.
No sun warmed the stone walls, and shadows clung to every corner as if the place had been designed never to be brightly lit.
Since that was better for old paper and old leather, I could hardly complain, though.
“Slow,” I admitted. “Some of the worst-hit books might not be salvageable at all.” I pointed at the carefully sorted piles of paper and scraps we’d collected from the wreckage.
Some of the books were still at least somewhat in one piece, and some looked like they’d gone through a paper shredder, they were that bad.
His jaw tightened, but he nodded in acceptance.
He had already known, because I’d bemoaned the fact last night.
Then he’d set out to distract me from the back-aching work, bent over the old books, with a massage and a delightful dinner.
“And the creature?” he asked, his gaze flicking from the scraps of paper to the still untouched books on the many other shelves down here.
He was asking me if I’d found anything out about it while going through the works I was restoring.
Though I’d wanted to go through everything, my focus had been on preservation first—lest things deteriorate while I spent my time researching.
I couldn’t help but feel like each of these books was incredibly important in its own way.
I hesitated, then took a breath. “I think it came here specifically to destroy any books that referenced it. I found a scrap earlier—barely readable—but the name was there.” I met his eyes so I could see his reaction. “Galamut.”
He swore in a language I didn’t understand, something sharp and old, Germanic in origin. Then he straightened, composure snapping back into place like armor. “I suspected as much,” he said. “I’ve been searching for additional references, and I think I have a lead.”
Hope sparked, fragile and dangerous. That was incredible news, because I was very certain the answers we were after wouldn’t be in the wreckage the creature had left behind.
The damage was too precise; it had known exactly what it was doing.
“Where?” I asked, wondering how many of these secret magical collections of books existed, a sense of adventure and excitement thrumming in my chest at the thought.
“Not here,” he said with a wry smile as an elegant hand gestured around the hidden library. “I need you to come with me to verify it, to make sure it’s real.” He cupped my shoulder with warm fingers, and I felt a spark of warmth at hearing the confidence in my skills in his voice.