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Dewey squashed his teal lips together until they were colorless.
“Dewey! What is it?”
“It’s in the Moscow branch.”
Paige studied a gold swirl on the granite counter as she attempted to ferret information from the cryptic statement. “So, shipping will take a while? I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you’re saying to me.”
“The Moscow branch isn’t exactly…” He paused, his head bobbing around as he seemed to search for words. “They’re not the friendliest branch. And the last librarian who worked here didn’t exactly help matters.”
“What did he do?”
“Called them a bunch of commie you-know-whats once when we had a disagreement about something.”
“Yikes!” Paige said with wide eyes. “Well, okay, just tell them there’s a new librarian now, and we don’t operate that way anymore.”
“It’s not that simple. Even before he made the rude comment, they weren’t exactly the most sharing. In fact, sometimes they’ll steal artifacts right out from under another library.”
“Wow!” Paige puckered her lips as she pieced together the information. “So, I’m guessing they’re not willing to just send over the talisman?”
Dewey shook his head.
“What about a trade?”
Another head shake from Dewey shot the idea down in flames. “They told me in no uncertain terms: ‘nyet.’”
Paige winced and wrinkled her nose. “So, what do we do? Is there somewhere else we can try? Or another talisman we can find?”
“No,” Dewey said. “There are no known locations on anything like this.”
“So, what do we do, then?”
Dewey pulled the goo-laden wooden spoon from the glowing red mixture, the rest dripping into the bowl in long strings.
“We have a few options,” he said.
Paige’s eyes bulged, and she waved a hand in the air. “Such as? Because I’m not seeing any.”
Dewey kept his eyes trained on the gloppy goo. “Let’s get this applied first and then discuss it.”
Paige arched an eyebrow but relented with a grumbled, “Fine.”
She plopped on a stool at the bar counter and slid the strap of her tank top away from the wound. Dewey darted around behind her, floating down to her level.
An object appeared over her shoulder. Paige craned her neck to eye it.
Dewey twirled a clean wooden spoon at her. “Take it.”
She slid the wooden handle from between his fingers, staring down at it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Bite it.”
Paige whipped around, her ponytail flying. “What?”
“Bite down on it,” he repeated.
“Why?”
Dewey stared blankly at her. “I should think that’s obvious.”
