Lily resisted the urge to roll her eyes, consoling herself with the thought that it was better to be taken to a gourmet, environmentally friendly burger restaurant than, heaven forbid, a normal burger restaurant.
Looking to the side, she gazed longingly through the restaurant’s front windows to the sunlit street, busy with lunchtime traffic. If only she knew how to teleport, she could escape this awkward situation with minimal embarrassment.
“So…” she tried again. “How’s your gaming campaign going?”
“Oh, it’s fantastic,” Jerry enthused past a mouthful of half-chewed but—let’s not forget—grass-fed burger. Not slowing his consumption of burger, fries, and a handmade root beer float, he launched into a detailed description of his gaming group’s latest campaign against…someone. Lily couldn’t remember who.
It was a topic she could safely rely on to keep him talking for a good while, though it bored her almost to tears. Boredom was preferable, however, to the awkward silence interspersed with chewing sounds she’d suffered through for the first half of their date.
Funny, she’d thought that, in person, Jerry would be more inquisitive. That was before she’d been aware of his burger obsession. As she absentmindedly separated the carrot coins from the rest of her salad and stacked them into a tiny, walled fortress between her and her droning date, she realized he hadn’t asked her a single question beyond the perfunctory “How are you?” since they’d met outside some twenty minutes before. From the time they’d entered the restaurant, his entire attention had been devoted to ordering and eating, though he had, at least, disengaged a few brain cells long enough to inform her of the best items on the menu.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t been very inquisitive online, either. But Lily was good at asking questions through virtual chat. It was like doing research in a search engine. Type in a question, then browse through the resultant dump of information to find your answer.
When asked a question, especially if said question had anything to do with himself, Jerry was obligingly verbose. He went into great detail, as long as that detail involved the hundred different titles in his grunge rock music collection, or his daring feats in the latest sneak attack against his group’s unsuspecting, now-no-longer allies.
It wasn’t as if she’d had soaring expectations. She’d just hoped for some intelligent conversation about, oh, say, books. Or history. Or philosophy. Or anything that mattered, really.
Some people improved upon face-to-face acquaintance. Jerry was not one of them. Neither was she, come to think of it. But she, at least, didn’t bore anyone with loving descriptions of each book in her expansive personal library unless she knew, for a fact, that the person was a bibliophile.
Hands nervously smoothing down the dark fabric of her pencil skirt, she cast about desperately for an excuse to prematurely end the date. She intended to block Jerry Slate from her dating profile as soon as she got home.
Ignoring the gaming babble coming from the other side of the table, Lily concentrated on the fork she held in her hand as an idea came to her. She whispered the words for a simple heat transference spell, her other hand wrapped around the power-anchor amulet she wore tied to her wrist like a bracelet. Her body heat began to seep into the piece of metal, making it grow warm as she grew cooler. When she judged it was sufficiently hot, she made a startled gesture, dropping it dramatically onto the table as she jerked back in her chair.
“Ouch!” she yelped.
“Huh?” Jerry said, stopping mid-sentence. It seemed to be his favorite word, along with oh.
“I wasn’t paying attention and tried to pick up my fork. It’s very hot. It burned my hand. They must have just washed it in an industrial washer.”
Jerry reached forward to touch the fork experimentally, hand stopping short as he felt the heat emanating from the offending utensil.
“Gosh, that is hot. Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Jerry’s brow furrowed in confusion. Not even he was absentminded enough to miss the fact that their silverware had been sitting, quite cool and harmless, for a good fifteen minutes since they’d gotten there.
Lily made a show of feeling her forehead, hoping to redirect his attention. “I feel all clammy. I should probably go home. I could be getting sick. Thanks so much for the food!”
With a touch of guilt, she fled the restaurant, not looking back. If she had, she would have felt better. Jerry’s momentarily stunned face quickly smoothed over as he noticed the untouched burger at her place and, not wanting to waste food, began demolishing it as well.
The warm summer air felt good on her face as Lily drove her Honda Civic down Ponce De Leon Avenue, heading back to Agnes Scott College campus. Her soft, chestnut brown hair frizzed in the humidity, despite being pulled back into a severe bun. At least it wasn’t whipping around her face and getting stuck in her glasses, as it would’ve been had she worn it down.
Verdant foliage and colorful flowers crowded around the sidewalks, businesses, and houses lining the street. The abundant plant life was one of the things Lily loved most about Atlanta. It made the place feel less like a big city and more like a well-tended neighborhood. Plus, it reminded her of home in the Alabama backwaters.
Pulling into the college’s employee parking lot, Lily gathered her things and headed across campus toward McCain Library. Though originally founded as an elementary school in 1889, Agnes Scott had become a college by the early 1900s. McCain Library, built in 1936, consisted of four main floors, a grand, vault-ceilinged reading hall, and three attached floors dedicated to the stacks. It was a beautiful example of Gothic architecture meeting utilitarian building needs and, along with the other Gothic and Victorian red brick-and-stone buildings around campus, made for a beautiful and relaxing atmosphere.
Though it was Saturday, Lily preferred to take refuge in the library and bury herself in paperwork rather than go home and risk the urge to mope about. The tall ceilings, majestic architecture, and quiet atmosphere would calm her in a way no amount of tea or chocolate could. And, of course, there was the comforting smell of books.
She passed a few groups of girls relaxing or studying on the green—it was a women’s college, and non-employee males were discouraged from hanging around campus. On this sunny day, the blue sky and warm grass had lured most students outside to study, so she saw only a few scattered girls working quietly in the library’s grand reading hall as she made her way to her office.
Her office was a spacious room on the first floor, with a high ceiling and expansive windows. Tall bookshelves covered most of the other three walls, and a large, mahogany desk dominated the center of the room.
With a sigh, she dropped her purse onto one of the two visitor’s chairs—both currently pushed up against her bookshelves as stepladders—and sat down at her desk. The desk’s dark wood surface was polished to a shine, and each item on it was arranged neatly. Her computer, pencil holder, and file organizer were placed just so, cleaned spotless, and free of dust. Her shiny, brass nameplate was centered and aligned perfectly parallel to the edge of her desk. It read:
Lillian Singer: Administrative Coordinator/Archives Manager
It was a prestigious position for Lily’s relatively young twenty-five years of age. But the fact that the previous archives manager, Madam Barrington, had taken Lily under her wing and personally groomed her for the job had made Lily the obvious choice when Madam Barrington retired a year ago. Beyond the Madam’s training and endorsement, however, Lily had been well prepared for the job. With four years of undergraduate work-study in the stacks, not to mention two years as head librarian after graduation, her BA in history and minor in classics were just icing on the cake.
Of course, Lily’s love of books, organized nature, and library experience weren’t the only reasons behind Madam Barrington’s choice. The real reason was she’d needed someone to take over as curator of the “Basement”—a secret archive beneath the McCain Library containing a private collection of occult books on magi
c, wizardry, and arcane science. Being a wizard herself, Madam Barrington had recognized Lily’s innate ability soon after she’d begun her freshman year. The older woman had considered it her duty to keep the then-young and inexperienced girl’s insatiable curiosity from getting her killed. Madam Barrington had always been frustratingly vague about exactly who owned the books. Her job, and now Lily’s, was to care for them, study them, and act as gatekeeper to their knowledge. Only once had Lily seen Madam Barrington allow access, and that was to a very old gentleman who’d arrived late one night and whispered something in the Madam’s ear. When Lily had asked how she would know to let someone in, Madam Barrington had simply smiled her mysterious smile and said, “You’ll know.”
Lily’s worries had faded over time, as not a single person had ever appeared requesting access in the year since she’d taken over. Though the Madam was tight-lipped on the subject, Lily got the impression there weren’t many wizards left in the world. Of those who did still exist, only a select few knew of the Basement’s whereabouts. That was fine with Lily, as the Basement was her own personal heaven. Knowledge was the next best thing to life itself, and knowledge of the unknown and mysterious was something she’d craved ever since she could remember, long before she had found out she was a wizard and started learning the craft under Madam Barrington’s tutelage.
That thirst got her into trouble on some occasions. But just as often, it resulted in exciting discoveries which added to her already encyclopedic mind. Having all of Agnes Scott’s stacks, archives, and considerable online research capability at her fingertips was a dream come true, not even counting the Basement.
Now, having settled into her leather desk chair in the sunlit office, Lily relished a moment of glowing satisfaction as she surveyed her domain. Taking a deep breath, she let the disappointment and frustration of an abysmal date fade away, refocusing instead on all the good things in life. Books. Tea. Chocolate. Cats. More books. Who cared about men and dating when you had all that at your fingertips?
Speaking of men…
There was a flourishing knock on her office door and, without waiting for an answer, a tall, lanky man with mussed brown hair came swaggering through. His untucked shirt and worn pants gave him a disheveled look, though he walked as if he wore the finest Italian suit in all the world. On a leather cord around his neck hung a triangular stone with a hole in the middle. She’d always wondered what it was but wasn’t one to ask personal questions.
His grand entrance was marred slightly by the absence of her visitor chairs in front of her desk, which interrupted his smooth transition from swaggering in to lounging handsomely across one of them. Instead, he had to reverse direction and pull a chair over from a bookshelf before settling his lanky form into it.
Lily hid a smile, trying to look stern instead.
“Sebastian, how many times do I have to tell you, you’re not supposed to be wandering around campus. This is a women’s college, and private property.”
“Pish.” Sebastian waved a hand unconcernedly. “If you’re so worried about it, call security.” His eyes were bright with mischief.
End preview
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Other books by this author
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The Lily Singer Adventures
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Book 1: Beginnings
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Book 2: Revelations
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Book 3: Allies (coming April 2017)
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Book 4: Legends (coming April 2017)
The Lily Singer Adventures Novellas
A Study In Mischief
Short Stories
Hope: A Short Story
Eye for an Eye (coming soon!)
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About the Author
Author of a modern fantasy series and award-winning short stories, Lydia Sherrer’s goal is to leave the world a better place than when she found it. She believes dark chocolate and tea are legitimate sources of nutrition, and one day hopes to visit every country in the world. She currently resides in Louisville, KY, with her supportive husband and their very vocal cat. Read more at: http://lydiasherrer.com/about
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