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“Let me guess. This is your gas saver, right?”
Jared chuckled and buckled his seatbelt. “It’s a hybrid if that’s what you mean. Trace is big on helping the environment.”
I had meant the little jab as a joke, but that piece of information was good to know. I doubted Neil gave anyconsideration to the emissions coming out of his truck. My respect for Trace went up a few notches.
“So, how long have you been on the council, Jared?” I asked. “Do you usually get stuck driving people around for Trace?”
“Not long,” he admitted. “But I don’t mind running errands and helping out. Everyone on the council pitches in.”
Interesting. From the grumblings I had heard, Jeremy usually left jobs like this to the newbies. But maybe spreading the chores around helped with morale. “Do you have a mate?”
His ears reddened a little, and he shook his head, eyes on the road. “No, ma’am. I’m still waiting for my true mate. A lot of us are, actually. I guess taking chosen mates have kind of gone out of style.” He glanced at the scar on my neck, eyes wide as he realized his faux pas. “I mean, that’s not to say taking a chosen mate is bad. It’s complicated, of course.”
“It’s fine,” I said, tugging on the collar of my shirt and wishing I had worn a turtleneck. “This wasn’t exactly my idea, either.”
“Yeah, I heard a little about what happened. That was pretty shitty. I’m sorry.”
I stifled a groan. He knew about what happened with Neil? Was everyone in the pack talking about me?
"That was a stupid thing to say. Sorry. It's not like that, I promise," Jared said as if he could read my mind. "Gabe and I are close. We were friends in school, and we work together for the council. He’ll probably be the next one appointed as soon as there's an opening, by the way. Allthat to say... most of the pack has no idea about what's going on. Gabe only told me some of it because he wanted me to handle his projects while he took some time off."
"It's fine," I said again, though the thought of Gabe talking to anyone about my situation with Neil felt violating. Jared seemed nice enough, but I didn't know him at all.
We arrived at the library without any other awkwardness, and I thanked him again for the ride.
Inside, I was greeted by the librarian and her young assistant, who reminded me of Mariam. My sister had a lot of interests, but she loved to read and had worked at the pack library when she lived at Dark Claw. It had been her go-to place to escape, similar to how my bakery was for me when I opened it with Heather. I should have figured this would be one of the first places she would visit after arriving in town.
“I’m looking for Gabe. Is he here?” I asked.
“You must be Ella. It’s so good to meet you,” the librarian stood and walked around the large circulation desk. I tried not to stiffen as she hugged me, and I managed to pat her gently on the back in return. “Gabe’s where he normally is, right through there.”
She pointed to a nondescript door, one that I was guessing led to the shifter collections. I thanked her and let myself in.
“Gabe? Are you in here?” The room was filled with books, and although I couldn’t see him from the doorway, chances were he was somewhere in the maze of shelving.
"Ella?" His voice was a little muffled, but I was able toteeter around the cramped room until I found him. He was sitting crisscrossed on the floor, surrounded by stacks of old editions of werewolf lore. His face brightened when he saw me at first, but then he seemed a little nervous. “How are you feeling?”
For a second, I thought maybe he was talking about last night, but then I realized he was referring to my episode at the hotel. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you have sex with me or anything.”
Gabe gave me a strange look and gave a stiff laugh. “Good to know,” he said.
I picked up one of the volumes that were resting on top of a nearby stack and traced the embossed gold letters with my finger.
"Tumblewild sure has a lot of old books. I wonder if Dark Claw has anything like this in our library. I'm ashamed to say I've never thought to look in our archives.”
"According to Mariam, Dark Claw has a pretty good collection, too, but nothing like what we have when it comes to scrolls." He sighed and massaged his forehead like he felt a headache coming on. "Unfortunately, we might have to try and search through some of those, too. I'm not having any luck with these newer editions. The only problem is that the scrolls aren't organized very well... and a good portion of them aren't even written in English."
I set the book down. “Well, we have to start somewhere. What can I do to help?”
Gabe looked up at me with a mix of gratitude and hesitation. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should even ask. You’ve already been through so much with Neil. I understand if you just need some down time.”
I frowned at him. “You're doing this for me, Gabe, remember? So I won't stay tied to a psychopath? Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it.”
He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Okay. I’ll take all the help I can get. Here, let me show you what I’ve found so far.”
We spent the next few hours poring over ancient texts, trying to decipher the meaning behind the cryptic passages and piecing together clues as to what some of the old werewolf languages could mean. Gabe wasn't joking when he said the scrolls were disorganized. Potions were mixed in with philosophy and pack organization theory. It was tedious work, but I found myself getting lost in the process of discovery. Gabe was a patient teacher, explaining the intricacies of shifter history and mythology in a way that was easy to understand.
But as the sun started to set, I realized we hadn’t made much progress. “I think I need a break,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “It’s getting late, and my brain is fried. Plus, I don't know about you, but I'm starving.”
