A Familiar Sense of Dead

by E L Wilder

  “We’re not getting in there without borrower privileges.”

  Hazel fished into her satchel. “Will this help?”

  “Is that Silas’s card?”

  “Yep. You heard Zelda say she could never bring herself to deactivate it after his graduation. Maybe it can work for us.”

  “Like I said before, we don’t have time for this,” said Cordelia.

  “Silas wrote a call number. Isn’t there a card catalog?”

  Cordelia laughed. “That’s not exactly how it works. Maybe you’re used to libraries designed for convenience. But the Spire is designed for inconvenience. This is arcane knowledge we’re talking about. The occult. There’s some dangerous stuff stored there, and they don’t want just any idiot getting their hands on it. That’s why the books don’t circulate. To find what you need, you need more than time. You need to be clever.”

  “You must know former students that could help us,” said Hazel.

  “I’ve burned a lot of bridges there . . .”

  “Is it safe—the library?” asked Tyler.

  Cordelia looked at him thoughtfully. “As safe as Silverwell can be.”

  Hazel nodded grimly. “Then there’s only one person I can think of that can help us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  They found Harper in the Monarch Field still finishing her chores. David and Juniper had invested in chicken coops on wheels that could be towed behind a truck and moved around the farm with a netted fence jerry-rigged around it. This way the chickens could all-but free range and then be relocated before they decimated a grassy area, turning it to nothing but dirt.

  From the looks of it, Harper had already finished the mucking portion of the job and was now lounging in the grass in shorts and rain boots, a chicken tucked under one arm, a book held in the opposite hand.

  “Hey, chicken whisperer,” Hazel called out.

  Harper cast an evil eye over the top of the book as Hazel and her entourage approached.

  “Something’s changed. I need you.”

  Harper tried to play it cool, but her tell was always the same, the slight appearance of her dimple at the corner of her mouth always betrayed her excitement or happiness. An actress she would never be. Still, for a teenager, she cast a pretty wicked evil eye, and actress or not, the message was clear.

  “Can I start by apologizing?” asked Hazel, as she caught a chicken of her own and slipped into the grass beside her niece.

  Harper remained silent.

  “I’m a horrible aunt.”

  Still no reply.

  “But if you’re going to go to public school. If that’s what you want. You need to be able to talk to your mom and dad on your own,” she said. “I can’t do this for you.”

  “If this is an apology,” said Harper from behind her book. “It sucks.”

  “It’s not an apology for not doing your dirty work for you,” she said. “It is an apology for not being there to coach you through this.”

  “So why are you here?” Harper asked, lowering the book for the first time and eyeing her and Cordelia warily.

  “Here’s the thing,” said Hazel, picking her words carefully. “I need your help.”

  “Oh that’s rich.”

  “I’m trying here,” she said. “To make it up to you—for not being available. Instead of you needing me, it turns out I need you. My investigation needs you and that beautiful brain of yours.”

  “Investigation?”

  “I’m in midst of investigating another murder. Or murders. I’m not really sure if it counts as one or two, to be honest.”

  Harper finally lowered her book.

  “Two?” she said flatly, though Hazel could tell the disinterest was feigned. She’d piqued her niece’s curiosity. “Does this have something to do with that guy that was mauled in town?”

  “Yes, except he’s not a John Doe and he wasn’t mauled,” said Hazel. “It’s complicated, but he exists in two places—one of them being Quark.”

  Her niece threw aside all pretenses at teenage disinterest as she shot up straight on her seat. “Quark?!”

  “I need you to come with me,” said Hazel delicately.

  “Through the Postern?” Harper bore the same mark as Hazel, and though her Knack had yet to manifest itself, she had already been steeped in the full lore of the Bennett family, particularly its number-one rule. No Postern, no Quark. Not until the Knack had manifested itself and a witch could prove herself ready. No exceptions.

  “Don’t worry,” said Hazel. “I’ll keep you safe. I just need you to come with me to the Spire . . . a library that—”

  “The Spire? As in Silverwell Academy?!”

  “How do you know about Silverwell Academy?”

  “That’s what I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” she said. “I don’t want to go to public school. I want to go to Silverwell.”

  She shouldn’t have been shocked. Her niece had been known to uncover difficult-to-find bits of myth and lore about Bennett farms.

  Hazel was flabbergasted. “I have a lot of questions,” she said. “But we can talk along the way.”

  “No!” spat Harper. “I mean yes! I mean let’s go!” She leaped up off the ground, any and all slights already cast aside and forgotten. “When? What should I pack?”

  “Right now,” said Hazel.

  Her niece was dumbstruck, her jaw working soundlessly like a fish out of water.

  “Go back to the manor,” Hazel said gently. “Pack a day bag for yourself, put on some good walking shoes, and meet me at Tyler’s.”

  Harper nodded dumbly and started off.

  “Harper,” Hazel called out after her. “Let’s keep this between you and me!

  Harper nodded goofily and bolted toward the fencing gate.

  Harper,” she called to her niece once more. “Don’t tell Gammy.”

  Harper nodded, though a look of concern flashed across her face. “Right. No Gammy.” She turned again and hurried toward the gate once more.

  “Harper,” called Hazel once more. “Don’t forget to leave the chicken.”

  * * *

  By the time Harper showed up at Tyler’s, Oddlump and Zelda were fully awake and sitting on the grassy lawn, staring vacantly into space. Hazel, Tyler, and Cordelia had gone back to the Tanglewood and retrieved them and walked them like drunks back up the South Way to the caretaker’s cottage. Fortunately, they’d not run into anyone along the way.

  Harper stopped at the gate, her jaw dropping.

  “It’s okay,” called Cordelia from the porch, where she lounged in a wicker chair, chain-smoking. “They won’t bite.”

  Harper opened the gate and let herself into the yard. “What are they?”

  “The most magical of creatures,” said Tyler. “A troll and a librarian.”

  “What are they doing here?”

  Hazel grabbed her satchel and bounded down the porch steps. “I’ll explain on the way,” said Hazel. “But we need to get going.”

  “One sec!” said Tyler. He disappeared inside and emerged a minute later with a military-style backpack slung over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” Hazel asked.

  “Oh,” he said cheerily. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No,” she said. Bringing Harper through the Postern prematurely was one thing, but at least she was destined for the crossing at some point anyway. To bring a non-Bennett violated just about every tenant of the Bennett-family creed. “Bennetts only.”

  “I’m caretaker,” he said, as if that settled everything. “You don’t think Ronnie spent a lifetime bringing magical creatures home and never once had to step through the Postern? Besides, I already went through.”

  “You what?!”

  “Last week I caught something that looked like a porcupine from hell and there was no way I was going to let it back out of its cage and try to coax it back through the Postern.” He shrugged.

  “Are you sure this isn’t going to end up on the fr
ont page of the Larkhaven Scryer?” Hazel asked.

  “I’m not sure Linda Wilkins and her like are the right audience to reveal a world of magic. You can hate me later, but for right now, we have work to do. Let’s get these oafs on their feet.

  * * *

  Harper walked in a state of near-catatonia across the Silverwell Campus, eyes wide and jaw agape, occasionally leaking words that made little or no sense other than the periodic What?!, How?!, or Why?! She’d been that way since they’d stepped through the Postern, and Hazel was starting to think she would explode when at least Harper finally snapped her head in Cordelia’s direction and asked, “Did you go to school here?”

  “Technically, yes. Then I got expelled.”

  “Expelled?!” Harper uttered the word with such horror that it made Cordelia—the tough girl and the rich snob—blush.

  “Yeah,” Cordelia muttered. “I was never any good at realizing that my actions had consequences.”

  Cordelia was delivered from her embarrassment when they passed Harmony House.

  “Is that the caretaker’s cottage?!” Harper nearly bellowed.

  Only now that her niece had pointed it out did Hazel recognize the underlying structure. It had been dramatically modified and added to, but the core was still there. “That’s Harmony Hall,” she said. “My Gammy’s coven.”

  Harper stopped in her tracks. “Great Gammy went here?”

  “She did. Rumor has it. Though I haven’t had much time to investigate things.”

  “That settles it,” declared Harper. “I’m coming here.”

  Hazel grinned. “We’ll talk with your mother when she gets back from vacation.”

  Harper’s eyes practically dazzled.

  They left Harmony House behind and soon came to the front steps of the Spire.

  “This is where we part ways,” said Cordelia.

  “You’re not coming with us?”

  “Oh, I’m not going with you,” she said.

  “Why not? I need your help,” said Hazel. “I don’t know this library.”

  “In addition to being expelled from Silverwell—I was banned from the stacks for life.”

  It was Harper that reacted first, emerging once more from her daze when she heard these profane words. “Banned? From a library?” Her voice dripped with horror and disbelief. This might qualify as the most outrageous thing she had encountered since stepping through the Postern. “What? How?! Why?!”

  “You’ve got your question words down,” muttered Cordelia, then turned back to Hazel. “Watch yourself in there. Always remember that whatever staff you encounter is there for subterfuge, not service.”

  “Subterfuge?” asked Harper.

  “They’re trying to prevent you from getting the books you want.”

  “How does that make any sense?”

  Cordelia gave her an oh-come-on look. “Make sure you keep an eye out for the Shelver.”

  Hazel snorted. “The Shelver? Sounds very menacing.”

  “Laugh all you want but stay out of its way. The Shelver guards the stacks and is constantly moving books around in accordance with some system of logic that only it understands, and one which it is constantly changing. So if you can figure out the code du jour, find your book.”

  “When you say it like that, it sounds easy,” said Hazel.

  “Just pray what we need isn’t in Special Collections. Though if you ask me, it probably doesn’t exist. It’s just a bit of Silverwell Academy mythology.”

  “Just don’t get too disappointed if you don’t find what you’re looking for,” said Cordelia. “And try to come out alive, if you can. I still need to crack this case, and I’m not keen on doing all the work myself.”

  Hazel was wondering if she’d made a serious error in my bringing her niece along. “You said it was as safe as anywhere else in the Silverwell Academy.”

  “It is,” said Cordelia. “But we are talking about the school with a bottomless well and a morally questionable caretaker. And lest you forget that a werespider recently tried to string up the librarian over the circulation desk.”

  “Point taken,” said Tyler.

  “Good luck in there,” said Cordelia. “You too, farm boy.” She winked at him shamelessly.

  “And where are you going?” asked Hazel.

  “Somebody needs to warn the Council about these lesions, otherwise this place is going to be crawling with werespider food in no time flat.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Hazel, Harper, and Tyler climbed the front steps and entered the Spire.

  “This reminds me,” said Tyler. “I have some serious overdues from the Larkhaven Public Library.”

  “Scandalous!” said Harper in mock outrage.

  Tyler chuckled. “What can I say? I’m a slacker.”

  Hazel smiled at the easy banter between Tyler and her niece. It was effortless, harmless—the sort of banter worthy of an awesome uncle. She flinched at the unbidden thought, but she couldn’t deny that Tyler had serious appeal in a way none of her previous love interests had. Maybe that’s why it had taken her so long to warm up to him. She had been looking at it through the wrong lens.

  Upon entering, they quickly discovered that Zelda was, in fact, absent when they entered, and in her place was a wraithlike fae. It was hard to say if he was sickly or not. His skin was a glossy shade of copper and he had darkish circles under his eyes.

  “Can I help you?” he asked peevishly.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  He looked offended at the question. “Who are you?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you on campus before.”

  “We’re here to use the stacks,” she said.

  “Are you students?”

  “Not exactly,” said Hazel.

  “A resident of Quark?”

  “No . . .”

  “I’m afraid the Stacks are only—”

  “But she is a Wand of the Council!” said Harper.

  “That’s right!” said Hazel, thumbing the badge on her shirt so that the new attendant might get a better look. “We’re here looking into the attack on Zelda.”

  The attendant eyed the badge and changed tunes. “Of course,” he stammered. “There are the stacks.” He pointed to the deep hole burrowing into the middle of the floor just beyond the lobby. The trio crossed the room and peered down into the stairwell. A set of steps hugged the edge of the hole, corkscrewing into the darkness.

  “Make sure you sign in,” the young man said to them.

  There was a podium with a massive book set upon it, and they each took turns penning their names.

  “Cool pen,” said Tyler, holding the writing utensil up to the light to get a better look. Though cool wasn’t exactly the word that Hazel would have used to describe it. Diabolical. Wicked. Medieval. Any or all of these might have done better.

  “Remind me why we’re here,” he said under his breath.

  “Research.”

  “Riiiight. Was Google not good enough?”

  She silenced him with a look, and he turned his attention to the librarian.

  “Is there a light switch?” Tyler asked. The young man scowled. Tyler quickly added, “Or I could just use this.” He fished a mini-maglite from the utility pouch hanging from his belt.

  “Auntie Hazel,” Harper said. “I’m not a big fan of heights . . .”

  “You’ve got this,” she said. “How far can it go?” She thought of the Silver Well itself and decided to keep that tidbit to herself.

  “Don’t worry, kiddo,” said Tyler. “I’ll be right behind you if you need me.”

  Harper smiled and relaxed a little.

  “And to think,” said Hazel to Tyler. “I almost left you at home.”

  “Tyler Cortez,” he said. “Don’t leave home without him.”

  Harper sniggered and relaxed fully.

  Hazel took a deep breath and then they descended into darkness, the light above fading until it was only a memory. If not for Tyler’s flashlight,
they would have been feeling their way down in the dark for quite a long time.

  “Save your batteries,” Hazel said. They stopped for a moment so Hazel could conjure a few balls of light and distributed them to Harper and Tyler.

  “Neat,” he said, bouncing the ball in the palm of his hand.

  They walked for some time longer until finally the stairs ended at a thick iron door with a sign fixed on it reading, “Silence or violence.”

  “Well that’s . . . cute,” Hazel said.

  “I’d like to have that put on a coffee cup,” Tyler noted.

  “Ready?” Hazel asked.

  Harper wrung her hands and nodded.

  Hazel pulled the massive latch on the door and pushed it open.

  They passed into a corridor carved out of bookshelves and smothered in a thick blanket of silence—true silence, without the hum of machinery or the sounds of nature.

  “Where do we start?” whispered Tyler. Hazel just shrugged and then turned to Harper. She expected the girl to look as overwhelmed and stunned as she had since they’d passed through the Postern, but that’s not what she saw on her niece’s face. Instead, she saw a look of unchecked lust and wonder. She made eye contact briefly with Hazel, nodded energetically, then headed for the nearest shelf.

  She examined the spines of the books, her fingers hovering near, but never actually touching, the bindings. Hazel smiled in admiration that Harper respected each volume enough not to mar it with the oils from her fingertips. Her niece was a true bookworm.

  “What exactly are we looking for?” asked Tyler. “The Dummy’s Guide to the Cursed and Riven?” Tyler pulled a book from the shelf. The instant the book slipped from its resting place, a sound emerged from the darkness, a low moan of displeasure that drifted down the row like a stale wind and rattled the shelves like an earthquake tremor.

  Tyler moved to quickly reshelve the book, but Harper interceded, grabbing the volume from his hands. “No,” she hissed. “Not there.” She put the book back a few inches to the left of where Tyler had been aiming. The noise abated and the library was once again still.

  Harper smiled in triumph and then darted off, moving quickly down the row.