Page 8 of Of Magic and Murder

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.