by J L Collins
“As long as you don’t get in the way of the Shadow Hands and I. I know you cared about him Bedelia, but I still have a job to do. And I don’t think I need to explain just how much of a problem it is for the Keeper of the Pages to be missing from his post.”
She quickly nodded and let me help guide her back to the elevator.
The Athenaeum of the Unseen stood as Spell Haven’s library full of magical relics, historical texts, and every spell book and magical resource known to the realm. As a kid, I would tag along with my cousin Erie any time she wanted to visit the Athenaeum. I loved to check out the old artifacts and read up on our histories, while she loved to read about the magical creatures and animals of the realm.
One thing we both did though, was talk Rourke’s ear off. As a former Historian Mage, Rourke had just as many stories to tell about the history of Spell Haven as he did about the library and the books within it. Erie and I would sit close by, our eyes wide and our ears open as he told us stories about the old days when Danann was accessible by all, long before human history wiped out proof of our existence, and long before the powers that be decided to close off our realm from the Human Realm for good.
The road leading up to the Athenaeum was already becoming crowded with concerned citizens huddling together as they watched the group of Shadow Hands sent ahead of us clearing the way to do their job. Sliding out of the carriage transport I glanced at the many tense faces staring at our arrival. Did they know about Rourke?
Uncle Gardner cleared a natural path off to the side where everyone parted to give him space with me and Aunt Bedelia quick to follow in his wake. No one had a problem speaking their mind here though, and some even shouted over the tops of everyone else’s heads to try and gain Uncle Gardner’s attention.
“Inquisitor, oi! What’s happened inside?” a deep voice boomed through the chatter, its owner standing nearly a head taller than the rest of the crowd, his many bulging gray biceps flexing as he frowned at us. Nagas were usually pretty good about intimidating others—what with their extra four arms and all—but my uncle wasn’t one to buckle under pressure.
“We will inform you all you need to know once we’ve come to proper conclusions in our initial investigation, Mattheus,” Uncle Gardner said, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. He made no effort to reply to the onslaught of questions that stemmed from that, and hurried up the steps to the massive library’s front doors.
Two Shadow Hands I didn’t recognize held the doors open for us as Aunt Bedelia and I followed. We exchanged a look as soon as the doors were shut behind us. Something felt terribly off inside, and both of us knew it.
“The magic,” Aunt Bedelia started, clutching at the string of colorful beads around her neck. “It’s been damaged.”
“Badly, I’m afraid.” Uncle Gardner led us deeper into the library past the large oracle desk where there was usually a waiting Witch ready to help any visitors who came through. The wooden, circular countertop gleamed as if it had been recently shined. An office chair had been carefully tucked back under, and even the paperwork was stacked into neat and orderly piles on the other side of huge round desk. Everything looked so… normal. It didn’t fit at all with the uneasy feeling taking up root in my stomach.
The dead silence was pierced by a high keening so close to us that I immediately withdrew my wand, brandishing it in front of me out of habit. The noise echoed around the cathedral ceilings, the window panes and frosted glass domes above our heads shaking precariously in their frames. Aunt Bedelia quickly covered her ears, nodding for me to do the same. This wasn’t just any normal scream.
Uncle Gardner whipped around a large wall and a moment later the screeching wails ceased. I gasped, surprised at how loud my ears were still ringing.
Back around the corner came Uncle Gardner and a short, slender woman with long black tufts of hair striped through with pearly white. Her mouth was hanging open in a grotesque manner as if it had come unhinged and stayed silently screaming, her eyes wide and all black but unseeing. To any innocent bystander from the Human Realm, it would’ve been like watching someone stepping out of their nightmares, but I knew this woman for who she was. Zoya, the Athenaeum’s Head Librarian, and resident half-banshee.
The air around her rippled with Uncle Gardner’s magic. He was busy keeping her steady as he walked her forward to a nearby armchair Aunt Bedelia was already pulling out for her.
“There, there,” she crooned as she helped maneuver Zoya into the seat. “Poor thing must be positively traumatized. It takes quite a lot of something to stir up a seasoned woman like her.”
I glanced back to where they’d just come from, my feet taking me around the wall before my mind had been made up all the way. Nothing seemed amiss there either but…
Another young Shadow Hand in the familiar uniform bounded past me, not paying the slightest bit of attention to me. Following far enough behind, I kept up to see where she was off to in hopes of finding out what was going on myself.
The loss of magic felt the most oppressive here as if it were pushing in on all sides of me as I rounded the last of the floating book shelves.
And there, in a crumpled heap of Keeper Red-robes, was Rourke. His free arm was outstretched, still grasping for something. I could just barely make out Rourke’s orange and white beard before his body was fully covered up by one of the handful of Shadow Hands already getting to work on the investigation.
I shuddered, stemming the feelings that wanted to burst through after seeing such a kind and wise man like Rourke snuffed out like a simple candle.
There wasn’t much need to beat around the bush, and the more I looked around, the more eager I was to take in my own notes—anything to distract myself from thinking too much about the man himself. I stepped forward, knowing there wasn’t much need to conceal myself. “Any idea of what happened here?”
The young Shadow Hand I’d followed looked over at me for a moment, surveying me with the kind of quick judgment we’re taught in the Academy. Her slate gray eyes became slits as they met mine. “This is an official investigation. One you’re not privy to any information on, no matter who likes to play favorites.” She dropped back down to Rourke’s side where an open bag hovered nearby for her to place the belongings they must have found on Rourke’s body.
Even though I was old enough to know better, it took everything in me not to spout off with a mouthful of ugly words as she carried on quietly. Clenching and unclenching my fists down by my side, I drew in a deep breath and kept my mouth shut… fortunately for her.
“Your Aunt could use your help,” my uncle whispered as he walked past, giving me a knowing look over his shoulder before turning his attention to his loyal group. I knew I wasn’t a part of this life any longer but my shoulders sunk anyway as I turned away from the scene, both my heart and my ego heavy.
By the time I made it back to the center of the library where Aunt Bedelia was, Zoya looked as though she was on the mend from whatever kind of weird banshee freak-out she just had. Her hair had been smoothed back down, her eyes a cool minty blue instead of the formidable all black, and her mouth had returned to its usual small shape though still frowning.
“And then I saw he was just…” Zoya’s soft voice was anything but scary as she burst into tears, leaning heavily against Aunt Bedelia’s shoulder as my aunt tried desperately to pat the smaller woman’s back.
My aunt glanced over at me as Zoya hiccupped. “Let it out, dear, let it out. Just not so loudly this time, yes, that’s right.”
“I’m so sorry, Zoya. Could you maybe tell me what happened?” I didn’t want to be insensitive to her or anything, but the best time to ask a witness questions is right after the incident, and I had no idea how long Rourke had been dead. How long the victim had been dead.
She sniffled, meeting my gaze with her red-rimmed eyes. “I-I don’t really know. I was standing there in front of the Potions and Poultices section in our modern wing, shelving some of the boo
ks. I had a terrible headache and was just about to go hunting down my bottle of Aches-Away when it hit me that I hadn’t seen Rourke all morning. Usually he’s up from his chambers not long after sunrise. He… he was a firm believer in starting your day with the sun.” A wet noise seemed to stick to each word as Zoya continued on. “I thought maybe he was out in his garden getting some fresh air. He hates being cooped up so much you know, and his vegetables were in need of tending. But I checked his garden in case he wanted something to drink and he wasn’t there. His bed chambers were empty. I called out to him and . . . nothing.”
I frowned. “How long ago was this?”
“Only just this morning. I thought I should maybe look for him just in case . . . and I . . . I found him there,” she sobbed, wailing a little too loudly for my ear’s appreciation again. Aunt Bedelia’s magic shimmered around Zoya as she calmed down again, her wailing subsiding. “Sorry, Bedelia. I just . . . it’s so hard! I can’t control it so well on my own without my wand.”
“Where’s your wand?” I asked, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t be on the lookout for it, if only to keep Zoya’s crying under control. I didn’t exactly want to walk out of the library half-deaf.
She shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s been missing since this morning. I haven’t had much time to look for it with so much shelving and categorizing to do today. And then . . . Rourke. Without him here . . . I just don’t feel safe anymore.”
A memory just barely surfaced in my mind’s eye, skimming along the top. Erie and I were spending a chillier day inside the Athenaeum after getting caught in a downpour courtesy of some feuding Fae in Arcadia no doubt. We were bundled up under a thick, woolen blanket on one of the couches by the hearth of the library, listening to Rourke talk about the superstitions that you would find in the Human Realm. I’d asked him why he never left the Athenaeum. Rourke, so understanding of just how totally clueless we were as children, wore a determined expression on his face as he explained bits and pieces of his magic being intertwined with the library.
“Me leaving the Athenaeum would leave it defenseless, you see,” he’d said over his steaming mug of chamomile and honey tea. “Where I go, the magic goes. We keep the most important relics hidden away from the rest of town in here, you know.”
I’d leaned forward but Erie had quipped, “Like An Leabhar na Ciallmhar! The oldest Book of the Wise in all of Danann!”
An Leabhar na Ciallmhar…It hit me all at once, stealing the breath from me. Why hadn’t I realized before, what Rourke’s death meant? Only the heads at the MARC—including all fully-trained Shadow Hands—knew the truth behind his job. As Keeper of the Pages, Rourke possessed the kind of magic that was built within the Athenaeum itself. His magic was the building’s magic and vice versa. The loss of that magical protection that only a Keeper could provide meant one thing and one thing only.
I slowly rose from my seat across from Aunt Bedelia and Zoya who were still speaking in hushed tones.
Uncle Gardner had returned, with a group of Shadow Hands trailing behind him. As he turned to face the few Shadow Hands standing around listening, Uncle Gardner tightly clutched the top of his cane. “And without Rourke’s magic in place to keep the Athenaeum’s defense up and running, we’re working on borrowed time here. The truth is anyone could come in here and wreak havoc on the place until we get a new Keeper of the Pages officially sworn in here.”
“They could try,” the shortest of the Shadow Hands said, holding her ground with the kind of ferocity that earned her an amused twitch of Uncle Gardner’s mouth.
He made a good point though, about anyone being able to try their hand at creating chaos in the Athenaeum—after all, that was exactly what Rourke’s duty was to stop. It made me wonder how anyone could have gotten the drop on Rourke though. To me, he was almost like Yoda from the Star Wars movies back home. It would have needed to be done very acutely and precisely.
“Sir,” I said, putting the pieces together with my Shadow Hands expertise creeping in on me, “How is it possible to drain the magic from the Keeper? Is that what we’re thinking might have happened?”
“There are a few most precious and sacred pieces of magic that even I do not know.” With a great sigh, he rounded on me, the concern in his eyes like uncharted territory. “I think the thing we should really worry about is the why, Gwendolyn. Why would someone need to steal the magic from the Keeper?” he replied, very clearly already on the same page as me. “I’ve sent another team down to where it’s kept. They’re already searching to make sure it’s where it belongs,” he quickly added, nodding toward Aunt Bedelia and Zoya, “Not everyone is aware of what may be going on. Let’s keep it that way. Go have a seat with them and I’ll let you know if we find anything important.”
I bit back my reply and watched him and his team of Shadow Hands head back to the scene of the crime. As much as I was dying to know what happened and to dig into the evidence and the perimeter of the investigation myself, that snotty Shadow Hand from before was right. It wasn’t my place anymore—I’d given up this life of magical investigating and maintaining Spell Haven’s safety a long, long time ago. Who was I to push myself on Uncle Gardner now, when all he wanted before was for me to work at his side? In all honesty, I knew I should feel more grateful he was giving me as much as he was.
Slouching back into my seat in an overstuffed armchair, I smoothed my hands over the frizzy lilac strands of hair framing my face in an effort to get my hair to behave.
Aunt Bedelia straightened up in her seat, handing Zoya yet another tissue that she blew heartily into. “You’ve got that look on your face,” she said, pursing her lips in a way that reminded me of my father.
My hands formed into fists in my lap out of sheer frustration. “This? This whole thing? Rourke and the library and—and someone coming in and murdering him in cold blood? I just don’t get it, Aunt Bee. Rourke was a good person. Why would anyone do such a thing?” Because I knew that was the truth of it. Rourke hadn’t simply keeled over because of old age or some silly user error with his magic. There was a reason why he above anyone else, was the Keeper of the Pages. He could handle all of the knowledge that many of us could not.
Zoya’s lip trembled as I sighed. “I keep thinking that myself, Gwendolyn,” she whispered, dabbing at her face with another tissue. “Rourke was the best part about this place. Him not being here is like . . . like the whole Athenaeum is dead.”
A chill traveled down my spine at her words. She wasn’t wrong—it really did feel like the library was mourning with us somehow.
“We need to find whoever did this. And we need to make them pay,” I whispered back, not looking at her but at the black marble tile floor. The golden veins striking through it seemed to waver the harder I looked. It reminded me of when Erie and I used to sit here and read back-to-back on the floor sometimes.
Erie. How were we going to break the news to her? As much as I cared about Rourke and the Athenaeum, she was even closer to him, and was the true reader and bibliophile between the two of us.
“Perhaps we should head back to the Apothecarium, dear. I can whip us up some lunch and I’m sure it would be a more private, quiet place to speak to Erie about the situation,” Aunt Bedelia said, making no bones about having pried into my thoughts.
I glared at her, resenting the intrusion. “I’m fine right where I am. I need to stick around and help if I can, anyway.”
“I suppose it’s a darn good thing that you are on your vacation, dear. You’ll have more time to get involved. Don’t look at me like that, Gwendolyn. I think we both know that’s what your intention is,” Aunt Bedelia mused, daring me to say otherwise.
I sank back into my chair. “Okay, so maybe I’d like to know a little more about what’s going on. What does it hurt?”
“Pfft. Knowing is one thing. Acting upon what you know, is something entirely different,” she muttered, still fussing over Zoya as she shakily stood up.
More and more of the more exp
erienced Shadow Hands—some I’d even graduated with myself, were coming up from the stairwell at the end of one of the wide hallways that I knew led down to where they kept some of the more powerful relics and spell books. My heart jumped in my throat as I tried to read the expressions on their faces. It was no use though, as Shadow Hands are trained to not let their body language betray their thoughts.
The din of voices in the main sitting area grew louder by the minute. Aunt Bedelia and Zoya were now speaking with the two other librarians, delivering the startling news to them. Sunlight glinted off the marble floors as the massive front doors opened once more, this time letting some of the more prominent members of the MARC and even Archmage Bacchus inside.
The Archmage was cutting through the surge of people that had all somehow formed a circle around the few of us, his handlebar mustache flapping along as his heavy footsteps echoed. “Gardner! What is this news I hear of? Rourke, dead? Have we made any arrests yet?”
I knew Uncle Gardner was groaning to himself before he faced the Archmage with a tired but respectful nod, pulling him aside to speak with him. Several of his Shadow Hands exchanged looks with one another. One of them—a bulkier young man with a scar that sliced down one side of his face pulling at the corner of his wide-set eyes—was coming up from the hallway, pushing past the others, trying to get my uncle’s attention. I couldn’t help but cringe when I saw another Shadow Hand yank at his thick sleeve to pull him back away from the two elders.
“Sir!” the bulky Shadow Hand with wide-set eyes repeated even louder, this time catching everyone else’s attention as well as my uncle’s. “Ahem, sorry, sir. But uh, Rufio finished conducting his search for the book—there are no traces of it anywhere.” The collective gasp in the room was interrupted all too quickly by the Shadow Hand as he continued, “We are working to expand the search parameters past the Athenaeum. And Rufio is requesting to see you, sir.”
