One Dark Spark (Accidental Alchemy #1)

1. Paige

Paige

T his particular Thursday starts out like every other.

I’m early to rise, quick to coffee, and off to work.

The fact that my workplace is the ancient and very secret library that exists one floor below my small Boston apartment is just a bonus that means I don’t have to deal with rush hour traffic or, well, humans in general.

Then again, it’s not my choice to remain separate from the humans, so I’m not sure that’s actually what I’d call a bonus. But I’ve made my peace with it. There is—unfortunately—no other option. The work I do here is too important to risk creating any attachments out there.

As an intern for the Athenaeum, the creatures I interact with are few and far between—and rarely ever human.

Trolls, giants, elves, fae, shifters—the clientele that come to study or search the library are diverse and strange.

Have you ever met a banshee bookworm with a top-secret clearance?

It’s not a combination one might expect.

Also, not to stereotype, but banshees are just weird in general.

With my earbuds streaming a spicy alien romance audiobook, I spend the morning patrolling the ogre section and watching for anything sneaky or out of place among the quiet stacks.

The Athenaeum has one purpose, and that is to contain the threats trapped among the pages of the volumes kept inside it. As the library’s newest—and most hopeful—intern, my job is to make sure nothing inside the books contained here makes it out again.

Unfortunately for the Athenaeum, I kind of suck at it.

As if to prove my point, a large tome on the end of the shelf shakes ominously as I pass it. A single, gnarled green finger pries itself from between the pages, attempting to push the book open. I rush forward, adrenaline surging. With two hands, I grab the book and squeeze it shut again.

“Clauseruntque,” I hiss and the green finger withdraws as the book seals itself shut at the command of the magic.

Exhaling, I re-shelve the book into its proper place then let go and back away, bumping into the shelf at my back. Several books vibrate with the impact, and I suck in a breath, jumping clear of them before my clumsy ass can do any more damage.

A moment passes, and the books fall silent again.

Damn, that was close.

It happens far more often than I care to admit. As though, for some reason, the books enjoy toying with me. Truthfully, I wonder if they can sense how afraid I am of screwing things up. They don’t act like this for the full-fledged keepers, that’s for sure.

I tune back in to the audiobook still playing in my ears and resume my patrol, fingers crossed the incident wasn’t strong enough to raise any alarms with Hoc.

I can’t really afford any more fuckups.

Not after I barely managed to avoid getting thrown out for the last one.

So, I keep strolling, putting one foot in front of the other while I imagine the hands of a deliciously muscled blue alien running all over my body.

A shifter—as evidenced by her golden gaze—steps into the aisle and looks up. She mouths something, but I can’t hear her. She repeats—

“ . Sorry!” I pull one of my earbuds out.

“No biggie,” she says easily. Her blonde hair is long and braided over her shoulder.

When she smiles, I get the sense that she’s new to the library.

Mainly because the smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and it’s not hard to sense her uneasiness here.

She’s not the only one. Most of our guests don’t realize how alive this place truly is until they experience it for themselves.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Yes. Please. I’m trying to find some history on shifters. Books detailing what comes first in terms of creation. A real chicken or the egg type of situation.” She laughs.

I return her humor, deciding that, if I were going to make a friend outside of this place, she could be one of them. “Yes. We have quite a lot of reference material about shifters in the non-fiction section. Unless, of course, you want a spelled fictional story.”

“No, thanks,” she says with a shudder. “I’ve had enough dealings with spells to last a lifetime.”

“Well—”

“Serenity,” she offers.

“Serenity,” I continue, “You can find the non-fiction down the hall and toward the back. There’s a sign over it, though it might not be lit yet.” Damn gnomes. They had one job this morning.

“Great. Thanks so much—”

“Paige,” I say.

“Paige. Great name.” She grins, but after so many years of jokes, the humor doesn’t hit me in the same way anymore.

“Thanks, it’s fitting, I suppose.”

“Very. Have a great day!” She waves and turns. Normally, supernaturals are escorted through the more volatile sections of the library. The ones who need keeper or intern status to enter. For what Serenity is looking for, though, she shouldn’t run into any issues.

Unless, of course, she tries to break into the restricted areas. But, as far as I know, that’s never happened. The library’s magic is too strong for that. It sees everything.

I continue my perusal, re-shelving books as needed and checking through the areas to make sure no one has wandered where they shouldn’t be, and by the time I surface again, I realize that the entire morning has passed without much incident.

Winning! My stomach growls, and I become aware I’ve very nearly missed lunch, thanks to my audiobook as a pleasant distraction. The story is about a human woman who crash-lands on an alien planet only to be saved by a large, muscled creature with two dicks. Two! Her dream come true.

If only.

I snort, enjoying the spicy scenes and the fiction of it all. Humans write the best fairy tales. This place? It’s full of stories that are much too real to be enjoyed.

On my way back to the break room, I reach the witch section.

There’s a title called Midnight Falls something-or-other, and my fingers brush over the spine as I try to imagine what a place like that would look like.

The spine moves beneath my hands, and I jerk away again, scowling at how unsettled it leaves me.

A noise ahead snags my attention. Grunting. And then a heave of breath and a crack!

The sound of a weapon wielded has me running toward it.

Rounding the corner, I pull up short. Blossom, a female keeper not much older than me with stark white hair is standing over a body that’s currently oozing blackened blood into the carpets. Blossom has a severed troll head clutched in one hand and a blood-tipped axe in the other.

She looks up at me, her sharp gaze mildly annoyed at seeing me here. “He a friend of yours?”

“What happened?” I ask, eyes wide.

“This asshole was shelved incorrectly.” Her glare turns accusatory, and I jolt, realizing her meaning.

Interns are the only ones who shelve books. And I’m the only intern. Which makes that exclusively my problem. Shit .

“Does Hoc know?” I ask, keeping my voice a near whisper.

Before she can answer, a harsh blaring sounds overhead, and dread spears through me. Double shit.

Blossom gives me an apologetic look. “He does now.”

Then she returns her attention to the decapitated troll and mutters a string of words in a language I’ve yet to learn. The language of the keepers. Magic sparks, engulfing the troll until its body and corresponding head are sucked into the open volume lying at her feet.

Blossom grabs the book and slams it shut with a muttered, “Clauseruntque,” to cap it off.

The pages stick.

She hands the book to me.

“At least it wasn’t the main character. Come find me when he’s done yelling at you,” she says, and I know she means Hoc. “You owe me a drink for that one. I got troll-blood on my new shoes.”

I look down. Sure enough, bright blue troll blood coats her normally shiny Doc Martens. Great. “Add it to my tab.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, I sit with my legs crossed and painted green nails tucked beneath my thighs.

It’s a childhood posture; a guilty one at that.

My unruly blonde hair has fallen into my face, and I make no move to tuck it back again.

From the other side of his massive desk, Hoc’s deep baritone voice washes over me as he goes on with his lecture, the very sound of his disappointment transporting me back to any one of a million similar lectures I received here as a kid.

At seven years old, it was probably something about not making houses for my Barbies with castles I’d extracted from books.

At twelve, I remember being taken to task over talking the gnomes into giving me a flail to train with; a weapon that led to pretty much the full destruction of my bedroom when I tried practicing on my own.

To be fair, the gnomes are easily talked into most anything, really.

And if they cannot be talked into it, Sour Patch Watermelon candy will do the trick.

At sixteen, Hoc found me trying to flirt with one of the male interns—a wyvern who would have just as soon eaten me as, well, eaten me. After that, Hoc had immediately dragged me in for a safe sex talk that thoroughly embarrassed us both.

Today, the déjà vu brought on by my current offense is almost comical. Even at twenty-five, I still feel like a kid when Hoc sits me in this chair and takes this particular tone.

I do my best to focus, though. Getting caught daydreaming is worse than actually listening to him drone on. With that in mind, I look away from his nameplate where I’ve been staring blankly at his name, Hoc Novensile, Head Librarian, and instead refocus on where he sits across the desk.

Like his lectures, Hoc’s dark brown beard is timeless, as is the ire in his strong yet weathered gaze.

His professor’s robe is patched in dozens of places from refusing to replace it with a new one over the years.

Even his office looks the same as it has my whole life, with stacks of books littering every bare surface including the floor.

The fact that a troll serves as head librarian to the most revered and dangerous library in the supernatural world still surprises most folks. Not me. Hoc is too perfect for this job. No, he is the job.

Overhead, a high ceiling accommodates Hoc’s massive frame and considerable stature. Unfortunately, it also allows for his voice to boom even louder from the rafters as he goes on at me about mis-shelving dangerous books.

Separately, most of them cannot open on their own. Note, most of them. But, when two volatile tomes are placed together, the magic mixes, and the most recent spell placed over the newly shelved one gets canceled out. Which means, most of the time, it’s the seal spell that goes.

“You know better, Paige. That’s what I can’t understand about all this.”

When he pauses, I realize he’s waiting for me to say something. “It was an accident,” I rush to say. “I must have been lost in the book I was listening to.”

The moment the words are out, I know they’re the wrong ones. His forehead crinkles, and his mouth tightens as he steps up to his desk and braces his hands, leaning over it to where I sit.

“Getting distracted in the library is dangerous enough. But when you’re this close to being taken away from here?” He shakes his head sadly.

I wince.

“One more strike,” he says before I can answer. “One more offense and the council will insist you be dismissed from the position of intern. I don’t have to tell you what that would mean.”

“No,” I agree quietly.

I know exactly what that would mean. In fact, the mere thought of it makes me shudder. He’s right. This isn’t just a job. And I’m not just an intern either.

Not to mention the council has never liked me. Then again, they don’t like anyone. Even with Hoc, they seem to be merely tolerating him.

“But... Hoc, you’re the head librarian. Surely you can speak for me. Make them understand. In fact, maybe there’s a different role I can move into. Something more suitable for me—”

“The council won’t allow me to offer special treatment.

You know that. The rules and expectations of the Athenaeum are absolute.

Beyond sacred. The council’s only duty is to make sure no one is above the laws of this place, and they don’t waver.

This isn’t a favor I can ask or a string I can pull. Not even for my own daughter.”

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for the Athenaeum,” I say.

He looks horrified, and I can’t blame him. “Paige, even if that were true, you know what happens to interns who are dismissed. Your memory will be wiped. You’ll be banished.” He swallows as if the words are hard to say. “I’ll never see you again.”

Guilt weighs me down at the anguish in his eyes. Hoc is the only family I have in the world, and I can’t let him down, nor am I willing to give him up—even if it means being stuck in a job I don’t love. “I’m sorry, Hoc. You’re right. I’ll do better.”

“One more month,” he says, his voice strained. “That’s all you have left before your internship is complete and you officially become a keeper. Can you just stay focused and keep your head down for another month? For me?”

I take a breath that’s meant to steady me and instead find my throat closing around it. “Yes,” I manage to tell him.

He relaxes, though not by much. “Good. Shadow Blossom for the rest of the day. She’ll keep you out of trouble.”

I nod, rising to my feet, ready to get the hell out of this room. But Hoc stops me, rounding the desk to block my path.

He gazes down at me with eyes that are far gentler than one might expect upon first glancing at the giant. “You know I love you, daughter.”

I smile. “I know. I love you, too.”

He holds out his arms, and I step into them, hugging him until I can feel us both let go of the tension and worry.

“I have faith in you,” he says when he pulls away.

“Thank you, Hoc.” I leave before he can glimpse the truth in my eyes--that I’m not sure I have faith in myself.