2. When books attack
WHEN BOOKS ATTACK
sometimes it’s much easier to use your own two paws.
— gus
With his permission to go out into the stacks, I wander away from the circulation desk, letting Ash return to whatever he was doing before I came in.
I don’t have anything specific in mind today to read.
I’ve already checked out nearly everything the library has on magical artifacts, and none of them offered more than I already knew about Morrigaine’s mirror.
Maybe that’s my problem. I’ve been looking for something super specific in a library that has thousands of books on magic, and thousands more on every topic you can think of.
I slide my fingers along a row of self-help books as I pass. The bottom of my skirt trails along the industrial carpet, a soft whisper in the stifling quiet. I furrow my brow as I think, hoping something will catch my interest and jump out at me.
Twenty minutes later, I’m still empty-handed. Either I’m being too picky or I’m not really paying attention, I’m not sure, but I’m meandering around the library, unable to pick out a title that I want to read.
And that’s when I get an idea.
It’s a pretty bad one, I’ll admit. I know it’s a bad idea because most of my ideas involving basic magic and my questionable abilities are. Still… it’s such a very small spell. I can’t even imagine how it can backfire on me apart from making it even harder to pick out what books I want to borrow.
You see, I just want the library to point me toward a book.
Any book. I want it to lead me to a book that might interest a witch like me.
Like a locator spell or maybe a simple levitation cast. If the magic takes, I should be able to cut through the aimless wandering and know exactly what to read next.
How hard can that be?
Aware that I’m alone except for Ash who is nowhere nearby, I close my eyes, letting my power rise.
Cursebreaking magic feels different. That comes from somewhere deep inside of me, almost as thought it’s instinctive. When I reach for ordinary spellcraft, I have to think about it. Shape it. Convince it to behave. I have to want it and let myself have it without overthinking the concept.
And that, right there, might be the problem.
I think too much. I always have. So even though I says, “Show me something that I should read,” while throwing some of my magic at the request, I must’ve done something wrong because, for a few heartbeats, nothing happens.
Nothing happens—and then, all at once, everything happens.
A hardcover rockets off the shelf beside my head. I duck right as it slams onto the floor behind me.
My stomach sinks.
Okay. So maybe it did work. I don’t know why my magic thinks I need to read a non-fiction book detailing how to rebuild an engine, but—
Another book shoots free. Then another. The shelf in front of me shudders and, an instant later, every book on it launches itself into the aisle.
It’s not just that shelf, either. A crash from the next stack over tells me that it’s hit that side, then the one next to it.
Once my magic gives the books permission to move, the library basically explodes.
I throw my arms over my head as paperbacks and hardcovers rain around me, though the one bonus to being a dud witch is that my innate magic protects me from my own fuck-ups.
I don’t get hit by any of the books, though when I hear Ash scream out my name, I can’t say the same for the opossum librarian.
Escaping the aisle I was in, I move out toward the circulation desk in time to watch as every single book in the Moonburrow Library forms a literary tornado before ending up in countless heaps of bent pages and broken spines.
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no…
I throw up my hands. “Stop!”
The books don’t stop. Of course they don’t. Why would they when my magic has a hold of them?
My magic…
Normally, when I screw things up this badly, it doesn’t last too long.
Minutes maybe, but I have no idea how bad this cast is, or what happened to Ash.
I would’ve thought that the newly-christened head librarian would’ve used his shifter senses to escape the onslaught of falling books, but all I see are the flapping pages of those still flying off the shelves.
But this is my magic. I did this. I need to fix this. So, praying to Hecate that this works, I suck in a breath, grab hold of my magic, and yank it back.
Thank the Goddess, it actually works.
One last book slips lazily from a shelf. It lands on the floor as the library goes silent. All I can hear is the settling of the books as a few on the top of the larger piles scuttle down to the carpet, plus my frantic breathing as I take in the massive mess I just made.
I wait a few moments to make sure that the spell has fizzled out.
To be fair, I don’t think the fact that it has is because of me.
Oh, no. Looking around the library, I can see that every book in the library is on the floor.
Since there’s nothing left to be yanked off the shelf by my wonky magic, it died.
That’s not the only thing that did.
I’m so discombobulated that, when I first see the pair of khakis and the brown penny loafers sticking out from under a pile of books, I instantly convince myself that I killed Ash.
So what if he’s a shifter and it requires a lot more than an avalanche of library books to take him out? Tell that to my anxiety.
Dropping down, I start tossing the books away as gently as I can. I don’t want to damage them anymore than I have, but I also want to make sure that Ash is okay. He has to be, right? He’s a supe—
Goddess damn it, he’s an opossum shifter.
And what do opossum shifters do when they’re startled? They play dead.
The fact that Ash has a pulse is the first clue. It’s slow, but it’s there when I press my fingers to his neck, and though he looks one hundred percent dead, I can sense that he’s alive.
Still, it takes as long as it does for Ash to come out of his thanatosis—his ‘playing dead’ state—for me to calm down my racing heart. I try my best to stack the books surrounding his prone body so that, when he finally does blink awake, slowly sitting up, he has room to move.
He’s barely conscious before I’m already apologizing.
“I am so sorry, Ash. I just tried a small spell to help me pick out my next read, but it backfired somehow, and now… oh my Goddess, I am so, so sorry.”
Together, we stare at the mess. Books cover every inch of the library’s carpet. They’re piled across the floor, wedged beneath tables, scattered around the circulation desk. A couple of them have even somehow landed on top of the nearest light fixtures.
They’re everywhere.
For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything. While I wince, waiting for him to let me have it, he lifts his hand, runs his fingers through his messy hair, then rubs the back of his hand across his mouth. There’s some drool there that I refuse to point out. He dabs it away, then sighs.
“Garnet has been saying we need to do a full inventory on the books lately. Update the computers and make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. I didn’t think that was the first big project I would do now that I’m head librarian, but things happen for a reason. Right?”
My bottom lip quivers. His voice is so gentle and kind when I deserve fury. “No. They happen because I screwed up.”
“It’s okay, Penelope—”
It’s not. But I’m going to make it okay.
“I’ll help,” I offer.
That’s as much as I get out before Ash’s purple eyes turn almost black. I almost think he’s going to keel over again. He recovers well enough to keep upright, then holds out his hands. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll handle it.”
My stomach drops. I try my best to keep my tone light. “Not with magic,” I promise. “I’ve got the time. Besides, I made this mess. You’ve gotta let me help clean it up.”
I look around again, guilt settling heavier with every empty stack I see.
“Penelope—”
“I’ll put them back. All of them.”
“You don’t have to.”
Yes, I do.
I reach for one of the first piles. “I’m a quick learner. I’m the best with tech in my coven. Just show me how to use the computer, and I’ll take care of this.”
“This could take ages.”
“It’ll give me something to do. Consider me a volunteer librarian.”
He gives me a look.
“I’m serious. You already have enough to do yourself. This is my fault, so I’m fixing it. No magic necessary.” I show him my hands, flexing my fingers. “I got these babies and nothing else to do. Please let me take care of this.”
It’s true. Serena hasn’t called and I doubt she will until I admit that I’m giving up on what’s keeping me here in Moonburrow.
Delilah can invite me to the coven house as many times as she wants, and I’ll keep finding reasons not to go.
Honey’s apartment is comfortable, but I can only spend so many hours sitting above a bakery before I find myself chowing down on every snack she has out of boredom.
And Riordan still isn’t back.
I hate how easily that thought slips in. Even worse, it happens all the time.
I’ll be reading for enjoyment and randomly wonder if he likes the same books.
I’ll see Max strolling through town or walking into the bakery and think, for half a second, that his brother might be a step behind him.
Sometimes I hear Honey mention the Moonshadow Pack and find myself listening for Riordan’s name.
I tell myself it’s because of the curse. For the most part, I believe it.
I saw it wrapped around him, so tightly interwoven into his dominant shifter aura that I couldn’t even begin to pick a point to starting unraveling it before he was gone.
Still, I felt how powerful it was after he arrested me.
When he told me to sit down and be quiet, and my body obeyed before either of us understood what was happening.
I remember his horrified face afterward more clearly than I remember the terror that rushed through me as I lost control over my own body.