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“Of course I will return. How could I resist? We’re partners,” I told him.
“Partners,” he said, before climbing up on the ledge beside me.
I lifted him into my arms and gave him a gentle squeeze. He reached around my neck and squeezed me back, twisting his fingers into the collar of my blouse. After the embrace turned from comforting to an excuse to hold on a little longer, I gave him a small pat above his bushy unibrow and lowered him back to the stone ledge.
“I’m counting on you,” I said. “Don’t let Mom’s coven cause any more trouble, all right?”
He gave me a salute.
I winked at him, put my hand over the strap of my bag, and held it tight. Then I hopped off the edge and dropped into the well.
The key to magical portal travel was simple—intention. Without focused intention, assuming one had survived the guardian, the well led only to the library’s entrance. Upon landing in the white room, surrounded by white shelves of white books, a traveler would be greeted by a risi librarian and escorted to the knowledge of their yearning.
But entering the wellwithintention, and of course specialized knowledge of the library’s layout, a person could arrive just about anywhere within the library’s expansive walls.
I was a fiery ball of intention. I knew exactly where I needed to go first—my office. From there I could discover the fate of all of the people I had once known. Taking after my mother in at least one regard, I’d never been much for friends. But, there were at the very least work acquaintances who would remember me, gossip-loving people I could ask about everything I had missed during my seventy-year absence. Okay, maybepeoplewas a stretch. I had Elenor.
As soon as my feet hit the floor, a feeling of wrongness swept over my skin, prickling the little hairs on the back of my neck. I chalked it up to nerves from being away for so long, ignored it, and dug right into the top desk drawer to search for my library directory. Finding Elenor was my first priority. Then, of course once everyone knew I was alive, we’d have that ice cream cake—priority number two.
Elenor had likely moved up from her receptionist position by now, plus her shifter nature meant she was definitely still alive. She could be stationed anywhere, so I really needed that directory to find her.
Except the directory wasn’t in here. None of my notebooks were in their proper drawer either.
Someone had messed with my stuff.
I tossed around the pens and notepads that didn’t belong, searching for where my directory had been hidden.
A tiny statue of a horse sat on my desk. No, it wasn’t a horse, but a unicorn, a child’s toy dipped in bronze. I tossed it aside. Worse than the toy, a disgusting package of olives sat in the second drawer on the right, exactly where my chocolate stash was supposed to be.
Something was very wrong.
What kind of monster ate olives when they could eat chocolate?
I knelt down to check the bottom set of drawers.
A knock came from across the room. From under the desk, I could see a set of men’s black dress shoes. Sadly, there was no way those feet belonged to Elenor. Was this going to be a new assignment before I had a chance to settle back in? Did the boss even know I was here yet? Probably. This wasThefreakingLibrary,house of knowledge. The man in charge knew everything about everything, or at least he had the ability to know it, if he so chose.
Hoping for a little more time, I peeked up over the desk to see who was here.
The situation was far worse than I imagined.
Silas Huxley stood in the open doorway. He was not a shriveled husk, nor was he a corpse. Somehow, he’d managed to age with grace, and only by about a decade given his appearance.
A spattering of gray mixed with his blond hair, which he’d grown out enough to tuck behind his ears. The wrinkles on his forehead had deepened with the years, as had the lines around his narrow eyes. He had this way of looking annoyed, aloof, and smug all at the same time. It made me want to punch him in the face.
The time that had passed, and the changes it had made, gave him an air of confidence that he hadn’t carried before. That wasn’t quite it. He’d always been cocky. That edge had been whittled and etched over like a rock in a riverbed, leaving the smoothest, coolest form of what had always been.
He had the nerve to look just as good as he did back in the day, if not better, the slimy worm. Was it possible to hate him any more than I did at this moment?
“Hello, sweetheart,” he purred in that way that made my insides quiver.
Yep. I definitely hated him more.
“What do you want, Silas?” I barked.
“I could ask you the same thing, as you’re digging through my drawers and throwing my belongings on the floor.”
“These aren’tyourdrawers. They’remydrawers,” I said, ignoring the way that the whole drawer talk sounded in my head.“This is my office.”
