Not saying anything, I closed my eyes again. He wouldn’t come back. I trusted that he’d been trying to avoid me, but hadn’t known where to avoid. It was horrible my presence was forcing the ghost to tiptoe around his own damn house. Yet another reason for me to get out of here.
Blocking out the outside world, I focused on the smell of the library. Inhale and exhale the scent of musty old books. On every exhale, my body relaxed a bit more until I was boneless again, calm as I’d been when I was cradled in Abraxas’ tail.
I opened my eyes and steadied myself with a hand on the short table beside me. The lamp on it wobbled, and I reached down with my other hand to hold it still. Except… this lamp shouldn’t be here.
The ugliest paisley pattern decorated the base of the lamp, pale blue on a white background. Dust covered the shade, but it had originally been white with blue ringing the top and bottom. I knew because the lamp had also once been inside my house. My childhood home, anyway. It hadn’t matched any of our furniture, but Mom had always insisted on keeping it in the corner of our living room. Beside… a bookcase. I glanced beside me, at the nearest case of books.
This was where Uncle Felix wanted me to start, clearly. He’d had a replica made of the lamp, which was going overboard, in my opinion. But my mom’s lamp was safely in Solstice’s walk-in closet, shoved in a corner and never used, but blending in surprisingly well with her stuff.
Picking up the lamp, I turned it over in my hands. Dirty from lack of dusting. A small chip in one corner of the base, which my mother’s original didn’t have. And on the base, numbers scrawled in thick black ink.
3-01-9586637
A directory number? What was I supposed to do with a directory number when I didn’t have access to the grand library?
Chapter 7
“Idon’tseeanythinginteresting about the lamp,” Abraxas said.
My fingers slipped when I startled, the smooth, heavy ceramic falling from my grasp. I’d forgotten he was in the room, but he’d been staring at me the whole time, watching my minor panic attack at Zan’s presence. His tail whipped out to grab the lamp before it hit the ground, waiting for me to get a good hold again before he released.
“You were not lying about being clumsy.”
“Why would I lie? It’s not like being clumsy is something to be proud of.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what witches are proud of.”
Valid point. Abraxas hadn’t given me a timeline when he’d explained his past, but I doubted he’d been free long after killing his family. “Thank you for being fast enough to save me from myself,” I said, placing the lamp back down on the table.
The string of numbers was burned into my mind.
3-01-9586637
Three told me the directory number was for a spell — there were different directories for spells, artifacts, enchantments, etc. Considering this was my clue, there had to be a spell directory book in here somewhere, but I hadn’t found one yet. My new cataloging focus was this little corner. The book I needed was surely hiding among the disorganized mess of spines.
“Do you plan on continuing with the high up books? You seem interested in the corner.”
He focused his unnerving stare on me. I shook my head. “No more top shelf books for now. Thank you for your help.”
“Then I am going to sleep in my nest. You are very quiet, and I would appreciate if you stay that way.”
I had no desire to make him angry again, with the pure black eyes and aggressive hissing. So I would stay quiet as a mouse. Maybe not a mouse. Didn’t snakes eat mice? Watching Abraxas eat one would be kind of disgusting, considering his top half was essentially a human. “Enjoy your nap.”
He slithered away, using the muscles in his tail to hoist himself high enough to grab the edge of the hole he’d created. Then his arm and back muscles flexed from the effort of pulling himself through, his tail pushing him the rest of the way. The nest was dark, and once the end of his tail had disappeared into the hole, I couldn’t see him anymore.
Somehow, knowing he was there was comforting. He’d saved my life and my lamp, so he couldn’t be as horrible as Uncle Felix claimed.
Grabbing my clipboard and some fresh paper to catalog with, I started in the bottom corner, working my way out in both directions. Like the top shelf, everything was chaotic and the organization made zero sense. A romance novel by K. Moon beside a historical textbook by Harold et al. Beside that, a four book crime series. This wasn’t going alphabetical by name or author, or by genre, but a hint was in here somewhere.
I relaxed into the motions again, keeping half an eye out for notable books while my brain calmed and zoned out. Eventually, my eyelids drooped shut, the MSBO #’s blending together. When I messed up the third one in a row, I cursed under my breath. Sleep. Apparently my body needed it after all. Sun was still shining through the skylights, and I had to estimate it wasn’t later than three in the afternoon. I couldn’t make it until nightfall before sleeping, unless I wanted to do absolutely nothing productive.
Hopefully, if I napped now, I’d still be able to fall asleep at a decent hour tonight.
Assuming a good night’s sleep was ever in the cards, considering the unfamiliar location and the knowledge of at least one ghost on the premises.
“Zan is harmless,” I muttered under my breath.
If I told myself often enough, my brain would start to believe it. Wasn’t that how psychology worked?
