Chapter 7 Cendi
CENDI
The next afternoon’s light slanted through the high windows in long bars as my friends and I headed to the library to pick out the books we needed. Jessie walked on my left with her hands in her coat pockets. Jaylyn kept pace on my right with a slim stack of index cards tucked against her hip.
We approached the reference alcove that held books about hauntings and spectral theory.
A soft glow pulsed ahead of us and turned the brass at the front desk into tiny moons.
Ms. Maple stood inside that circle, her shoulders hunched as if the charm at her throat weighed more than it should, or maybe it was just from a lifetime spent looking at books, I couldn’t be sure.
Thin light leaked between her fingers. She spoke softly to herself in a quick stream that never paused for air.
Books were placed in odd piles around her desk, one stack curved in a spiral that widened toward the floor.
One column leaned toward the door and held steady at a careful angle.
Chalk marks dotted three neat towers. The pattern looked deliberate rather than messy.
Jessie cleared her throat while Jaylyn offered a gentle hello. Ms. Maple jumped hard enough to jolt the nearest stack and snatched the top book before it fell, then pasted on a bright smile as she tried to calm her breathing.
“Oh,” she said. “Hello. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone, although I probably should have been given that I’m in a busy school. Research hours do continue, of course, and all students are welcome in the library. I’m very happy to help.”
“What got you so distracted?” I ask, partially because I’m being nosy and partially because Ms. Maple is acting strange.
“I’m in the middle of a small project. It isn’t dangerous.” The charm in her hand flared, threw a thin ring of light across her blotter and then dimmed. She winced at the timing. “Routine maintenance. Please don’t worry.”
“What kind of maintenance?” Jessie asked lightly.
“Catalog wards,” Ms. Maple said too fast. “The shelves carry signatures. After a major event they need tuning. We had a major event. The stacks complain when the wards aren’t quite right.
That’s what you smell, old bindings waking up.
I’ll finish and file the form about the adjustments I’ve made.
” Her gaze slid to the pile of spiral books and back to us.
“If you’re here for ghosts, the third aisle on the left.
Green spines. No, blue. I’m wrong. Green is better. ”
Her charm brightened again. She pressed it flat to her sternum and whispered a small apology to the air. “I should check something before the window closes. Excuse me for one minute.”
She darted past us with quick little steps, skirt swishing, expression pinched with purpose and nerves. The glow near the desk softened to a halo as her magic left the area, and the chalk marks seemed too dull.
Jessie leaned closer without touching anything. “Containment theory,” she read off the topmost titles. “Resonant bindings. Migratory curses. Not a casual selection.”
Jaylyn studied the chalk. “Those marks belong to a protective lattice,” she said. “Set the wrong way and it snaps at fingers. Set right and it tucks danger back into its box.” She tipped her head. “I can’t tell which thing she was trying to do from here.”
“Should we… follow her?” I asked.
“Probably not,” Jessie responded with ease. “She’s technically not doing anything wrong. Besides, we don’t really have any information that points to her. It’s probably not fair to bother her just because she’s an odd duck.”
She had a point. “Good idea.”
But then, she leaned in, “although her charm is definitely suspicious.”
“Is it?” I asked, thinking back to the thing.
“The way it glows… and when it glows… it’s just off,” Jessie whispered.
I was still so new to this world of godmothers and sugardaddies. I felt like a child at school, learning something new and exciting every day. Apparently, today’s lesson would include learning about magical charms.
Jaylyn reached out for one of the books, hesitated, then dropped her hand. It was as if she was afraid she’d get burnt. Not that I blamed her. We had no idea the ins and outs of the magic the librarian was using.
A low thrum ran through the shelves. “We shouldn’t hover,” Jessie said. “Let’s take what we came for and read where we can pet the cats.”
I grinned. “They’d like that.”
The aisle with the green spines held three primers on spirits, two on echoes, and a slim book on spectral mimicry that insisted it wasn’t all myth.
I opened the table of contents. An entry on contact jumped off the page.
Most ghosts don’t shove their way through a doorway.
Most ghosts don’t handle warded objects without an anchor.
Our intruder had shouldered a living woman and lifted a key that should’ve scorched an unapproved hand.
The words on the page didn’t make the knot in my stomach loosen.
Footsteps clattered down the stairs. Ms. Maple reappeared with a clipboard hugged to her chest. The charm at her throat had gone quiet and a little color had climbed back into her cheeks.
“That’s pretty,” I told her, pointing to the charm.
She smiled and touched it. “A family heirloom.”
“My family didn’t leave me anything like that,” Jaylyn says, followed by a laugh.
“Mine either,” I said, grinning.
“I finished the work I needed to get done,” Ms. Maple said. “I can help now. What do you need?”
The truth was we didn’t need any help. We just needed to focus on the material before us and piece it together to figure out how it could help us to see what happened with the ghost and the key.
“We’re just taking a few primers, so you don’t need to worry about us,” Jessie said. “You’re welcome to go back to your, ah, calibration.”
Maple glanced at the circles and columns. “It isn’t pretty, but it keeps books from chewing through wards.” She waved a hand toward the reading tables and managed a small, apologetic smile. “You’re welcome to sit down and read through your chosen books. I’ll be in the back if you need anything.”
She didn’t flee, not exactly, but she seems to be relieved to be retreating from us, which further raised my suspicions.
The three of us stood there with the same quiet question.
None of us wanted to accuse the woman who brought lemon bars and talked to shelves, as if they had temperaments, of any wrongdoings.
But we also couldn’t ignore the circle of evidence around her desk, nor our instincts that were whispering that something was wrong with the woman.
We checked out the books, signed our names in Maple’s tidy ledger and left the library.
The cats met us at my door with equal parts joy and judgment.
Tilly curled around my calves and mrrped a greeting that also counted as a complaint.
Simon trotted to the food shelf and sat with perfect manners in front of the tins.
I scattered treats and opened a fresh can with a flourish that declared me a reliable provider.
Robbie arrived a few minutes later with a bag of muffins.
He passed them out, parked the bag where Simon couldn’t raid it and pulled a chair closer to the bed.
Jessie flipped open her notebook and drew a clean grid.
Four columns appeared. She wrote names across the top.
Maple. Unknown entity. Pranksters. Outside caster working with a ghost.
Jaylyn tapped Maple’s column. “She bumped into a spectral person with Cendi’s face. She carries a charm that glows when wards strain. We found chalk patterns around her desk that match a protective lattice. She keeps odd hours.”
“She also feeds students and whispers to shelves,” I said. “She panicked in a way that read as honest. She didn’t hide the charm. She told Drew and Ava about the bathroom.”
Robbie added to the second column. “Unknown entity used your face. Maple couldn’t pinpoint it, but something seemed off about you. A true ghost would need a partner. We haven’t found that partner.”
“Pranksters,” Jessie said. “Students run illusions every term. The timing that night doesn’t fit a prank. The castle lurched, and the key was left on the safest desk on campus. A prank crew would need access, motive and the ability.”
“Outside caster,” Jaylyn said. “The wards bucked. Someone who knows the Academy could run a distraction while a ghost moved inside. We don’t have a name for that someone.”
We stared at the four names until the pencil lines started to blur. Tilly jumped onto the bed and claimed the middle while Simon chose Robbie’s lap. Robbie took the cat trap with good humor and didn’t try to move.
I set the kettle on my hot plate. Robbie gathered cups from the shelf without asking and lined them up beside the tin of tea.
He knew where everything was located, having spent enough time in my room.
He poured a cup of tea, handed me the first mug and brushed my knuckles with his free hand, sending a spark of electricity between us.
I had to take a deep breath and focus on the others, even while I was tempted to see if he felt it too.
“Maple sits at the top simply because she has the most fingers pointing at her,” Jessie said.
Robbie set his mug within Simon’s tail radius. “The hunters will talk to her again,” he said. “They won’t leave obvious clues alone.”
We reviewed the day until the room grew warm and the cats puddled in content heaps.
Jessie added times to her cards and wrote a clean timeline from the courtyard glow to Maple’s stacks and back to Vanderflit’s office.
Jaylyn tracked every mention of the staff corridor and the second-floor bathroom.
Robbie listed the small group of people who knew my gait well enough to mimic it.
We didn't read the names out loud. The list sat there anyway.
The kettle hissed again, and I topped off everyone’s cups. The small, domestic rhythm helped. Jessie finally closed her notebook and rubbed the bridge of her nose with ink-stained fingers.
“I’m calling it,” she said, yawning. “I need food and my bed.” Jessie packed her cards and kissed Tilly’s head with a promise of future treats. Jaylyn hugged me and tucked a curl behind my ear with a care that made me want to bake her a cake.
They slipped into the hall and their footsteps quickly faded.
Quiet settled without strain. Robbie stayed.
He gathered stray napkins and tossed them in the bin.
He rinsed the mugs and set them to dry in a neat row.
He checked the room with the ease of a person who already understood how I lived.
He didn’t crowd. He didn’t hover. He just kept moving until the space looked ready to hold a good night.
“You run a tight ship,” he said. “I’ll accept payment in cat stories.”
“Payment goes both ways,” I said. “Your turn.”
He leaned against the dresser and thought for a second.
“My brother used to say grief moves into houses that have empty rooms. He brought me a plant the week after I retired and called it a tenant. I nearly killed it twice. I learned to pay better attention because a stubborn fern refused to quit. Today at the park felt like that. A small life asked a man to live again.”
He brushed a lock of hair from my cheek with the back of his fingers. The touch sent a warm line through a part of me that had spent years braced for impact.
“Watson,” he said. “That can be me. You get the better hat.”
“I want the hat,” I said. “You can have a magnifying glass that doesn’t magnify anything. It just makes people behave when they see it.”
“We’d terrify no one,” he said.
“Speak for yourself,” I said. “Tilly’s intimidation rating sits at nine out of ten.”
Tilly chirped at the sound of her name. Simon shifted, flopping into the narrow space between us on the bed. Robbie scratched under Simon’s chin until his purr filled the room.
He stood and kissed my forehead without pushing for anything else. He said goodnight in that new warmth we were both learning to trust. He grinned and left.
I scooped the cats and ferried them to the bed. They pretended outrage, then forgave me when I found the perfect spot under each ear.
Sleep arrived without a fight. Tomorrow would bring more questions.