3. Paige
Paige
S omehow, I make it through the rest of the week without incident.
Well, unless you count Bingo—our predatory hellhound—taking a bite out of a visitor Thursday morning.
But I wasn’t involved in that particular chaos-party, thank the gods.
Friday evening, I breathe an audible sigh of relief when the clock strikes quitting time.
Three more weeks.
I square my shoulders, pep-talking myself about my promise to Hoc.
In three weeks, I’ll have successfully completed my internship and become a keeper.
After that, my tenure here is all but guaranteed.
I ignore the little voice whispering in my head that I’m going to hate every minute of it.
I’m sure I’ll learn to love it, especially considering the alternative is never seeing Hoc again.
Rounding the corner toward the exit, I nearly slam into a body and let out a yelp.
“Mag,” I hiss, putting a hand over my heart and breathing deeply, “You scared the shit out of me.”
The gargoyle grins at me, and I scowl. Mag is strikingly handsome with his tousled sandy-blond hair and light stubble. He wears a fitted black tee that accentuates his clearly defined muscles. All in all, an attractive package. Problem is he knows it.
At my scowl, his grin only widens, which proves my case.
“My presence is known to raise heart rates, Paige, I thought you’d be used to it by now,” he says.
I roll my eyes and try to go around him, but he steps into my path.
“What do you want?” I ask, eyeing him warily.
Mag is a flirt. Something I sometimes find myself dishing right back if I’m bored, but the truth is that he is too much of a player for me. Though, I wonder if it’s my refusal to fall for his charms that makes him try so hard.
“I was wondering if you’ve seen Blossom.”
I snort. If Mag thinks I play hard to get, he certainly has his work cut out for him with the gorgeous unicorn shifter.
“Why? Didn’t she offer to crush your balls into gravel the last time she saw you?”
He shrugs, his smile playful. “I like a challenge. And besides, I need to ask her for a favor.”
“What favor would I possibly agree to do for you?” Blossom’s biting tone cuts off my own reply—which would have been pretty much the same, for the record.
She steps into view from behind the stacks that lead to the poisonous creature section. There’s a splatter of something bright blue on her elbow that makes me wonder if there was some sort of incident. Then again, I probably don’t want to know.
Her gaze finds mine. “And it was sand,” she says. “I offered to crush them into tiny sand granules.”
I chuckle.
“Blossom, my beautiful friend,” Mag drawls, completely unbothered.
Blossom glares. “I’m not your beautiful anything.” She cuts me a look. “Is he bothering you? Because my job is to protect this library—and you—from all manner of threats. And from where I stand, the threat of assholery is very real.”
“He was looking for you,” I tell her.
“So... self-defense?” she asks sweetly.
I shake my head. “I can’t approve it.”
She sighs like I’ve really inconvenienced her by not letting her beat the shit out of him.
“Hilarious, you two,” Mag says.
Blossom deadpans, “Who’s joking?”
The strain between them is real, and I decide not to point out it feels awkwardly similar to sexual tension. Blossom would kick my ass if I uttered those words where Mag is concerned. And Mag would never let her live it down.
The gargoyle has been a keeper of the Athenaeum for as long as I can remember. He’s looked exactly the same as the day I met him, too. Basically, a poster child for the cover of GQ. And not a day older than twenty-five.
Humans would swoon, for sure. Honestly, supernaturals do too.
One woman—a witch who’d lost access to her powers—actually did pass out while following him back to the moon magic section.
She claimed low blood sugar, but the gnomes swear she was staring at his ass.
Mag rode that high for months afterward.
Then, Blossom’s arrival a year ago shook everything up, especially Mag, though he pretends to enjoy their rivalry. I don’t think Blossom is pretending.
“Okay, look, I can see you aren’t in the mood to grant favors,” Mag says to her, “But I really need someone to cover my shift tonight.”
“Hot date?” Blossom asks, her brow arching to let him know she finds that prospect doubtful.
“I’m flattered that you think so,” he says.
“Everyone is lovable to someone,” she says. “And I don’t judge. I think you and Bingo make a cute couple.”
I suppress a smile.
He clutches his heart, stagging back a step. “You wound me.”
Her eyes glitter. “Not yet.”
I shake my head, cutting in before blood can be spilled. “Okay, before we make a mess on the newly cleaned rug, let’s just agree Blossom is not going to cover for you.”
“Someone gets me,” Blossom says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my shift is over, and there’s a pint with my name on it waiting for me at my favorite tavern. Later.”
She strides down the dimly lit hall before tossing her wrist out casually in front of her. The symbol tattooed on her skin glows to life, and a portal appears before her. She doesn’t break stride as she marches right into the murky ether of the portal and then disappears.
Mag sighs and slowly turns away. “Great,” he mutters.
“I’ll do it,” I blurt.
He stops and turns back. “Really?” Hope blooms in his light eyes then is quickly squashed as he shakes his head, gesturing to the tattoo on his wrist. “Keeper duties have to be done by someone with the mark.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Look, if it were up to me, sure. I promised my little brother I’d show up for his playoff game tonight.”
“You have a brother?”
“I have three.”
“Oh.”
I try not to seem surprised, but Mag never talks about himself, at least, not to me. He’s the most mysterious person I’ve ever known, and considering the creatures that make up this place, that’s saying something.
“Well, maybe you can ask one of the gnomes—offer them Sour Patch candy. That always works for me.”
“Already did. It’s Ned’s birthday, so they’re busy.”
I bite my lip, all too aware of the opportunity this presents. “Look, the truth is I need this,” I tell him. “I fucked up a few days ago, and Hoc’s up my ass about it.”
He smirks. “Is this about the troll? Because Blossom was pissed about her shoes.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. Look, Hoc said it was my last strike, or I’m done here.”
“Damn, kid. That’s harsh.”
I straighten. “If I can successfully hold down the fort on my own, Hoc will ease up, and maybe it’ll win me some brownie points before graduation. Besides, I’m three weeks out. I’ll be a full keeper soon enough, so it’s not like I’m a total newb.”
He hesitates, and I can see him considering it.
I cross my fingers because this is seriously the best thing I know to prove to Hoc I can do this.
The look of disappointment he gives me every time he sees me now is just too damn much to handle.
Being a keeper might not be my dream, but I can’t lose Hoc.
“I don’t know,” Mag says.
“Just take a couple of hours,” I reply, talking far faster than normal.
“It’s not that long, but your brother will know you showed up.
And besides, Bingo is here with me. I’m not completely alone.
Worst case scenario, I’ll release the hound.
” It’s meant as a joke because we both know there is no way in hell—pun intended—I’m going anywhere near the obsidian dog with impenetrable skin and blazing red eyes.
Nope.
Definite pass.
Even with the keeper mark, that hound terrifies me.
Mag eyes me, considering.
“Two hours,” he concedes, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I blink, eyes widening. “Seriously? Shit, thanks, Mag. You won’t regret it.”
His expression transforms, and suddenly, the easygoing playboy is gone, replaced with a stone-faced—and I mean that literally—gargoyle warrior. “I seriously hope not, Paige. Because if you get my ass busted, I will kick yours all the way through one of these dead-end portals, got it?”
I suppress a shudder. “Got it. You can count on me.”
He looks unconvinced, especially considering he’s just agreed to this. “I mean, seriously. I may adore you, but I will make you pay if you get me into trouble.”
“I promise.” I press a hand to my heart. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout,” he replies. “That’s a human thing.”
“Heard it in a book once.” I grin, and to my delight, Mag returns an annoyed smile. “One thing though,” I say as he raises his wrist to conjure his own portal.
“What?”
My grin spreads. “I want a coffee. Strong, delicious, from somewhere other than my drip machine.”
Mag groans. “You women never do anything out of the goodness of your hearts. Fine. Be back in a blink.” Raising his wrist, he uses his tattoo to call the portal then disappears through it.
Envy is a taste on my tongue as I watch him go. My cozy apartment upstairs isn’t bad, but the idea of being able to leave this place every night—to experience other worlds—is the only thing driving me to become a keeper.
That and instant access to the best lattes the worlds have to offer. Seriously, that could very much be the best job perk of them all.
* * *
Just over an hour later, my pace is slow and slightly wandering as I patrol the stacks with earbuds blaring. In one hand, I cup the pumpkin spice latte I negotiated from Mag. The other hand is free, prepared to deal with any mishaps should they happen.
They won’t, though. It’s been my silent mantra. The power of positive thinking and all that. Tonight is going to go down without a hitch, and tomorrow, I will be able to prove to Hoc that I do belong here.
That I can be the keeper he wants me to be.