Did the student even understand the irony of protesting against fae when she flaunted their services? Becka sighed in disgust. She might have changed her course. Might have let loose her Null gift. Might have brushed against the beauty for just a moment.
Sure, Caeda might ticket her for destruction of magical property, but it was a fine Becka was willing to pay.
In a fraction of a second there was one less illusion of beauty charm in the world.
Chapter 12
Stepping inside the library surrounded Becka with a welcome, sacrosanct quiet as the muffled cheers outside faded with the closing door. The building was hushed with few inhabitants despite existing in the heart of the campus.
“Did you have to null her charm?”
Becka’s cheeks heated over her act being outed. She hadn’t been sure Caeda would notice, but wasn’t about to deny it either. “She’s here protesting fae presence. I thought I would do her a favor.”
“Liar,” Caeda replied, and Becka smiled in response. “But if I had your gift, I’d have done the same. It’s pretty cheeky to protest fae rights yet also wear our magic. It was fluff magic, anyway.”
“Right? I’d never harm someone on purpose.”
Caeda smiled back. “Of course you wouldn’t. So now what?”
“We check in.”
She walked up to the counter where a lone clerk, Jake, sat at the front desk and glanced up at their arrival. She preferred to assume his frown was because of the crowd noise that had accompanied them into the building and not a reaction to having two fae-touched enforcers walk into the room. But she knew better. His pursed-lip frown was one he usually sported when dealing with her.
“Anything past due?” he asked.
“Nope, but thanks for checking, Jake,” Becka replied, deliberately using his name.
His frown deepened, and in return Becka flashed him a broad smile. Jake’s reception wouldn’t sour her mood. Not today.
“I have an appointment with the archivist,” Becka said.
“Can I assume you know where that is?” he asked.
“Of course. I thought I had to check in?”
“You check in at the archives section,” Jake replied, shifting his attention back down into an awaiting book.
They headed deeper into the library towards the archives. A sparse scattering of students sat in the main table area, either in hushed conversations or hunched over books. For once, no one paid them much heed.
When they reached the door to the archives it was closed, but through the window she saw the lights were on. Becka checked her watch, assuring herself that she was right on time. Trying the handle, relief flooded her as the door swung open. She stepped in and Caeda followed, closing the door behind them. Becka’s excitement and anxiety caused her heart to race yet again.
“Hello?” she called out, as she didn’t see anyone. The room had one monolithic walnut desk centered and squared across from the door and a set of potted plants perched in the corners. A door on the left wall had a keypad above the handle. Everything appeared freshly dusted and the parquet floor gleamed. A laptop sat on the desk, out of place with the other elements in the room.
A clacking sound of heels from behind the keypad door announced the archivist. The door swung open and the matronly woman arched a brow at Becka before sweeping into the room on impossibly tall heels which exaggerated her diminutive frame.
She held Becka’s gaze as she plunked down a mug on a coaster on the desk. “You’re my one o’clock?” Her gaze flitted to Caeda and then back.
Becka hadn’t met her before, but her name tag read “Matilda.”
“I am.”
“Hmm,” she said, opening an appointment book on the desk and searching through it, her perfectly painted nail tapping along. “Ah yes, Becka Rowan?”
“That’s me.”
“Hmm,” she said again, her steely gaze fixed. “I didn’t realize you were fae-touched. Or an enforcer.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I suppose not. You have your student ID handy?”
Becka fished out her fae liaison consultant ID and handed it over. Matilda looked it over and then ran it through the reader attached to the side of the laptop.
“You’re adjunct faculty here now?” Matilda asked, a slight smile curving her cheek. “That’s moving up in the world.”
“I like to think so myself,” Becka replied.
The machine produced a single beep, and then Matilda handed the ID back.
“The system says you’re good, but the viewing is just for you. Not her.” Matilda pointed to Caeda.
“I’m her bodyguard for the afternoon,” Caeda replied. “I’m not allowed to let her out of my sight. If you’d like, I could call the precinct chief to confirm it for you.”
Matilda’s brows arched as she frowned, looking most put out. “That won’t be necessary. I suppose I’ll allow it, this once, even though it is quite unusual.”
“Thank you, Matilda,” Becka replied. “I’m very grateful.”
“Humph. Follow me.” Matilda sashayed to the door and entered no less than a dozen digits into the keypad.
Becka rolled her eyes, confident Matilda’s attention was elsewhere.
The door buzzed, and the archivist opened it and held it for them. Becka took in the expansive room, which was lined with shoulder-high keyed drawers and a broad quartz counter running along the center.
The archivist closed the door behind them and pulled out a ring of keys attached via a lanyard to her waist and walked down the aisle. “You’re here to view The Great War: A Fundamental History?” Again with her arched brow.
Becka followed along. “Yes, I’ve been waiting for years for it to become available. I’m glad it’s finally back.”
“Oh, it’s been here all along. But there’s a quota restriction on it.”
Becka frowned. “Quota?”
“This happens with a lot of historical manuscripts to help preserve their condition against the ravages of time.” Matilda stopped at a stack and scanned up the drawers, then used a key to open up drawer number 41557. She pulled out a pair of delicate, white cotton gloves from her waistband, donning them with rapt attention. She pulled hard on the handle and a whooshing sound preceded an outrush of foggy gas pouring out of the drawer.
Becka supposed limiting physical access made sense. “How often is this one requested?”
“Oh, hardly ever. Please put your bag down on the counter over there,” Matilda pointed. “And give me some space.”
Hardly ever? That couldn’t be right. Had they held her request up because she was fae? As she puzzled over Matilda’s meaning, Becka backed a few steps away and put her bag down as directed. She pulled her notebook and pen from her backpack, holding them close.
“How often is viewing allowed?”
Matilda pulled a silken fabric out from a cubby under the counter and spread it out flat. Next, she produced a set of nitrile gloves and placed them on the counter between them. “Put these on.”
Becka nodded and picked them up, pulling them on.
The archivist turned and opened the drawer the rest of the way and then delicately wrapped her fingers around the leather-wrapped tome. Hefting it with extraordinary care, she turned and carried it to the table. She set it upon the fabric and then let out a deep breath.
Matilda pulled out a magnifying glass from underneath the counter and inspected the outside of the book.
“Viewing for this book is only allowed up to a maximum of once a year for a maximum of forty minutes,” Matilda finally replied. “I’m surprised they allowed your request, considering.”
Considering I’m fae-touched, she means.
“Miracles happen,” Becka said, bouncing on her toes. Caeda stood leaning against the counter checking her phone.
Matilda shot her a frown. “Miracles are folktales. Magic happens.” She set the magnifying glass down on the counter and opened the cover, moving it with the utmost care.
<
br /> A fresh headache blossomed at the back of Becka’s head. Magic? Here in the archives? Becka’s curiosity peaked. This was not at all what she’d expected. What could it mean?
She gritted her teeth but would have to persevere. The “No Food or Drink” sign on the wall no doubt included both her hot sauce and the pills Nikkita had been kind enough to give her.
“Did you have a particular page in mind?”
Becka moved in closer to get a better look. She’d studied a variety of textbooks and papers revolving around the events of the Great War between humans and fae, and almost all of them referenced this manuscript as a source.
“Can I start with page sixty-four?” Becka flipped open her notebook.
Matilda nodded, gingerly turning the pages. “I see you’ve come prepared.”
The respectful, almost reverent, way the archivist handled the manuscript spoke volumes to Becka. Matilda might not love managing visitors, but she clearly loved working with the books themselves.
When she arrived at the requested page, Becka’s breath caught. Despite the aging of the pages, the map of fae territories as they’d been delineated hundreds of years prior was something she’d never seen in such detail. Reproductions had come close, but the clarity of this map far exceeded the copies. Areas once held by House Yew were clear as day here, a detail lost in most of the recent pictures.
Curiously, the reproductions Becka had seen were always fuzzy and lacked this level of clear detail. She’d assumed the original had been damaged at some point and no efforts were made to repair it, but that wasn’t the case. It looked pristine. So why hadn’t the reproductions been updated? A few simple pictures with current technology would vastly improve their clarity with very little effort. Was it just not a priority?
Transfixed, Becka shook her head and focused on jotting notes down in her notebook to reflect the areas now clarified by the original.
“Can I take photos?” Becka asked.
“No, I’m afraid photos aren’t allowed,” Matilda replied. “And I must ask you to put your phone away, dear. Phones aren’t allowed in here either.”
Caeda complied but shot Becka a “what’s up with that” look. Becka shrugged back at her, but went back to drawing out the map details.
“Anything else?”
“Oh yes. Can you turn to page eighty-seven next?” Becka had memorized those page numbers, hoping one day to need them.
The archivist gave a slight nod and turned the pages. “Another popular destination,” she mumbled. “We’re skipping the sections which list all the houses involved in the Great War. Which human countries got involved. Who engaged who first, and in which cities and territories. But you likely already know that.”
“I’ve studied reproductions.”
“Uh huh.” Matilda reached the requested section and stepped to the side. “Here you go. This is the start of the battle sequences.”
Becka continued to take notes. “I know you’re an archivist. Are you also a historian?”
Matilda pursed her lips, the hint of a grin creasing her cheeks. “I do dabble. Mostly, I see what all of you look at time after time.”
Becka stared at the page, the pain in her head making it difficult to think straight. She shot Matilda a look.
“What’s wrong?” Matilda asked.
Should she voice her concern? But no, Becka didn’t know Matilda at all, and she might end the viewing if she felt something was amiss.
“Uh, nothing. Can you turn the page?” Becka asked.
“Certainly.”
Becka copied each page into her notebook, a building sense of dread weighing on her.
How could no one know? How far does the coverup go?
Matilda checked her watch. “Your time is almost up. Any last requests?”
Becka thought back to the list of page numbers she’d memorized. “Yes, twelve pages from the end, please.”
“But that’s just the signatories.”
“Humor me?” Becka smiled. “I’m hoping to see the signatory for House Rowan.”
“Oh well, of course. We all love to delve into our family history, don’t we? I just don’t remember anyone ever viewing that section.” She turned the pages.
When the page full of author signatures appeared, Becka’s headache pounded in the back of her head. She wrote down the few words she could read.
“Please, what do you see written here?” Becka asked Matilda. She motioned to Caeda, who came over to look.
“From a high level? These two pages are broken down into the represented humans, shifters, and fae-touched who witnessed the creation of this document. The statement at the top of the page notes that the undersigned all agree this is a faithful and accurate representation of the Great War and that all signers affirm equal commitment to the Great Peace to come.”
Becka nodded as if her words made sense and looked to Caeda. “You?”
“Yeah, I mean, I’m not reading every name, but it’s basically what Matilda said is there. Why?”
“I just wanted you to share this moment with me, Caeda,” Becka said, backing away from the tome and stretching her shoulders. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Caeda gave her a weird look but nodded. “Thanks.”
“That’s time,” Matilda replied, closing the book. She took great care bundling it back up and laying it to rest in its cabinet. There was a whooshing sound as she closed and then locked the cabinet. “That’s the argon gas pressurizing to protect it from aging.”
“Smart move. The tome is a relic that deserves to be well preserved,” Becka replied, sliding her notebook into her backpack, and then slinging it over her shoulder.
When they’d exited the library, Becka pulled a bottle of spicy sauce out of her backpack and gulped down a quarter of it.
“What in the realms was that all about?” Caeda asked.
Becka looked around, hyper-alert to the people still milling about in the forum. “We need to get back to the station. Right away.”
“Agreed, but let’s go well around this crowd,” Caeda replied, motioning for Becka to head to the right of the forum. “Why did you want me to look at that page of signers, anyway?”
Becka looked at her sideways. “You saw the signatures?”
Caeda nodded. “You made me look, but I don’t know why you think it’s important.”
“It’s important because the page was blank.”
Chapter 13
Becka took another long swig of hot sauce, wishing it would get to business and quell the throbbing in her cranium. Remembering the pills Nikkita had given her, Becka got the bottle out of her bag and took one, hoping it might help.
“Several pages were completely empty except for the magic imbued into them,” Becka explained.
“Blank pages? No.” Caeda shook her head, her brows furrowed. “I know what I saw. Dozens of florid signatures covered those last few pages. Matilda saw them too. She pointed at them. If anything was amiss, surely the archivist would have mentioned it?”
Becka felt the air drain out of her lungs. “You’re right, it was just as Matilda expected. And you also saw what you expected. Therefore, nothing appeared to be amiss at all.” Becka leaned close. “But I swear to you, Caeda, I saw something entirely different. Something beyond the layers of enchantments which bedazzled you both. Those pages lacked even a single signature.”
“Wow, I knew you could see through illusions, but seeing, or should I say not seeing, it in action is an entirely different experience. It’s a little unnerving, actually. What do you think the enchantments on the book mean?”
Becka rubbed her temples. The aching pain had slowly ratcheted up while she was in the library, which made sense once she realized the book was imbued with magic. But for whatever reason, her headache wasn’t letting up at all even now that she was outside. She tucked her bottle into her backpack and looked around, but no one was nearby. Nothing she could see that might be the trigger.
“My head is ki
lling me. Killing me, like I mean ‘I’m standing on top of a pile of magic’ pain.”
Caeda’s brows furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense. We’re outside and away from the archive. No one is around us. I don’t have any magical items on me, and neither do you, right?”
“Right. I don’t know what it could be either.”
“Maybe it’s left over from spending all that time with the enchanted book? Who knows, there could be other ones in there too.”
Becka nodded. That must be it. “Can we get out of here?”
“Yeah, of course.” Caeda’s perceptive gaze swept the area. “At least the protestors have cleared out, so we can head straight back to the ride pickup without getting sidelined again.”
“A small win, but I’ll take it.”
Caeda motioned her back towards the ride station, where they’d commission a vehicle. “Can you tell who worked the magic on that book? Like, do you think this is the same source as those other…” She looked around, and Becka knew she’d been about to say Shadow-Dweller. “In those journals?”
A shudder ran through her at the suggestion. “I don’t recognize a magical signature, if that’s what you mean. But it makes sense the same people could well be responsible.”
Caeda shrugged. “Let’s get back to the bureau and hash this out. I’m sure Quinn and the team will have some ideas.”
“I don’t think I can.” Becka rubbed her neck, focusing to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. “This headache has me pinned down.”
“What do you need?” Caeda asked, genuine concern in her eyes. “Something stronger?”
“When the pain gets this bad, I need to get in the dark and try to nap. It’s the only thing that works besides the sauce.”
Caeda gave Becka a decisive nod. “I’ll accompany you back to your townhome. We can figure out the Great War tome when you’re feeling better.”
Just when their car pulled up, Caeda’s phone rang. Caeda popped open the door for Becka, ushering her inside as she answered it.
Shadow Underground: A Romantic Urban Fantasy Murder Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 3) Page 10
