by RJ Blain
My cat drew unwanted attention, but I ignored those staring at my fellow librarian, instead focusing on my pet, who hissed and spat feline curses at her containment. Once home, Ajani would spit and hiss for another hour, but she’d forgive me for interrupting her day as long as I provided my lap for her use whenever she wanted, fed her to her schedule rather than mine, and spent at least an hour brushing her coat.
Ajani loved the brush more than life itself.
I took the carrier from Meridian, grunting at my cat’s hefty sixteen pounds, all of which was pure muscle. Some days, I swore I’d adopted an oddly colored miniature lion, one with a big cat’s attitude. “Thanks, Meri.”
“You’re welcome. The boss says to get out of here, and he’ll have someone swing by your place and leave a note in your box with the updated schedule. It doesn’t look like any of the books were damaged, but the entry will need to be sanitized.”
The building’s historic veneer would need sanitization, too, but I kept my mouth shut about that.
“How are we to address the boss if the cops come around?” I asked, setting my kitty down beside me until I needed to make the painful walk back to my apartment with her. In what I thought of as a ridiculous but amusing game, our boss liked switching up job titles, roles, and so on at his whim. As such, we just called the crazy older man ‘the boss’ and worried about his name of choice only when around the patrons.
“Mr. Tawnlen,” my co-worker replied. “We’re to be formal, at least for now. We’ll have to deal with using our last names with proper forms of address until the adepts clear out. He even brought out our official name tags and plates once he got clearance to go into the library. Us librarians get to go by our work titles, and because our boss is a dick, he’s switched it up on us again.”
Well, that would save me if I had to come in to be questioned. However, switching up our work titles worried me. Jobs had a tendency of moving around during one of the switches. Once, I’d gotten switched to acquisitions for two months, and I’d gotten to read every book the library didn’t have but wanted to consider. “Have I been transferred back to acquisitions? Please? I’ll beg, Meri. I’m not above begging. Those were the best days of my professional life.”
Well, mostly. I wanted my dream job back, but only the parts where I got to drive the fast cars without worrying who might want to kill Bradley Hampton.
I didn’t miss that part of my dream job at all.
While standing on my toes while wearing a medical boot hurt like hell, I did so for a peek at my ex-boss. Yep. He was still hotter than hell, and I resented how well his suit fit him. The cops kept him busy, asking him questions while he crouched beside the cloth-covered body on the library steps.
I’d feel bad about the death of Bradley’s friend given an hour or two.
Meridian giggled, and she joined me in standing on her toes for a better look at my ex-boss. “You get to be Head Librarian Asurella for the next two weeks.”
I groaned and settled back onto my feet before I crippled myself further, already regretting my choice of last name, which had been safe and common for someone of my manufactured percentage. “Seriously? That’s Mr. Tawnlen’s job.”
“He’s now Executive Supervisor Tawnlen. It makes him feel special. As this round’s head librarian, you get to boss everyone around except for him, fix all those pesky things that keep annoying you, and no one except Mr. Tawnlen can tell you no.”
I narrowed my eyes, as our magazine archive needed a new shelving unit, we needed to open up one of the dusty, abandoned rooms for the space needed to fix the magazine archive, and bring in a proper digital archiving machine for the older records. “The digital archiving machine?”
“Ordered by our boss this morning before the murder.”
Before the accident, I would have done a little dance. “The abandoned rooms for the magazine archive?”
“I’ve been told the Head Librarian can open them up at her whim as soon as the police let us back in, and that Mickey volunteers to do the cleaning if it means he doesn’t have to sit at the reception desk. After this morning, he’ll be grateful if you would put him in charge of cleaning out those dusty hell holes.”
Maybe Bradley Hampton was a little too close for my liking, but I’d focus on my new life, one I meant to enjoy without the burdens of my past holding me back. “The expanded fiction section?”
“Once the magazine archive is moved, it seems logical we’d have space to expand various sections of our stock. And I expect we’ll be closed for a few days after we’re cleared to go back in, so you can use your rotation to fix all those things.”
“What’s the catch?” I demanded.
“You have to deal with the main branch about it.”
I groaned. As one of the smaller novelty branches of the New York Public Library, we fell under the umbrella of one of the main branches, having to justify every change we made to our catalog, building, and staff. When I’d been hired, our boss had battled with the main branch for three weeks over my hire, as they hadn’t felt we needed yet another librarian.
Fortunately for me, a pack of senators had come during the tail end of the argument, turning our library upside down and choosing it over the main branch for their impromptu meetings, reference center, and public meeting space. I still had no idea how New York had so many damned senators, but they flocked to our branch in droves.
Then again, Senator Godrin wasn’t even a New Yorker; he represented New Jersey.
As I hadn’t been born or bred in New York, my parents dragging us to the state to offer me better opportunities due to my rating, I failed to understand or care about the rivalry with New Jersey, Delaware, and the surrounding states. I’d lived in the city long enough to have developed an accent, but I’d erased it after living out west during rehab. I’d failed to pick up the appropriate accent upon my return, instead opting for something more neutral.
Neutral marked me as anyone other than who I’d once been.
I considered my situation and found a few good silver linings. If I had to deal with the main branch, I wouldn’t be around for the investigation. If I wasn’t around for the investigation, I wouldn’t run into my ex-boss again. He could kiss the so-called for life contract goodbye, as I couldn’t even do the work anymore.
That job was long gone, and while I missed it, I held no delusions about returning to my old life.
Time worked its magic on everyone, and he’d forget about his wasted investment soon enough—and the contract had been clear. Shit happened, and he couldn’t punish my parents for my failings, not even in case of death, dismemberment, or severe injury.
For his purposes, I was as good as dead, and there was no need to drag any skeletons out of the closet.
“All right. Tell our boss I’ll get to work on the main branch issue. I’ll go there tomorrow and get the preliminary approvals.”
“Tomorrow?” Meridian squeaked. “So soon?”
“Meridian.” I pointed at the bloodstained library. “Why would I want to come here when I can do useful work there? It’s not like I have to implement anything before waging that war, and they’re going to be more inclined to listen to me when I remind them we just had somebody murdered on our front steps. I might even head over today after settling Ajani at home.”
“True. Huh. All right. I’ll tell the boss. Anything else I should relay since I’m playing the loyal messenger?”
“Yeah, there’s something you can relay. Head librarians deserve raises.”
Meridian laughed at that. “Good luck with that one, Janette. Hell will freeze over first.”
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try.”
I hauled Ajani home, muttering curses every single painful step of the way. The staircase up to my apartment classified as hell, and my precious bundle of joy howled her dismay over the disruption to her day. Once I closed and locked my door, I unleashed the beast, and she cowered and whined in her carrier, beginning our usual weekend routine.
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She expected me to crack open a can of wet food for her enjoyment and coax her out, and once she enjoyed her meal, I would serve her for at least one hour with the brush. Laughing over how I’d become the servant of a cat rather than the bodyguard of a man, I limped across my apartment and began my Friday evening ritual despite it being Tuesday. As I didn’t want to be anywhere near my home turf with my ex-boss around, I hoped she would accept my offerings without much of a fuss.
Apparently, nobody had given her breakfast yet, as Ajani attacked her food with the fervor of the truly starved, purring and growling with every bite. As my cat had severe food territory issues, I left her alone, sat on the couch, and fiddled with her favorite brush while waiting for her to finish her meal.
She went from devouring breakfast to ruling my lap in the blink of an eye, and I began my sacred duty as her servant to brush out her thick, long coat. When I’d first gotten her, the vet had warned me many cats hated the brush, especially feral strays like my baby. For whatever reason, my feral stray associated the brush with happiness, and if I stopped stroking her, she’d rub her face against it until I resumed my duties.
In many ways, Ajani represented freedom.
A for life bodyguard didn’t get the little things, including a cat. I’d existed for one purpose, and anything that might distract me from that purpose had been eradicated. A dog? I might walk the dog when I was supposed to be watching my boss’s back. A cat? I’d have to feed it, pay it attention, and do the little things pets enjoyed, like hour-long stints with the brush.
Heaven forbid if anyone made Bradley Hampton wait for an hour because of a cat.
Then again, I’d enjoyed the moments someone made him wait. His expressions had ranged from annoyance to fury, and every time someone tripped his trigger because he had to wait, I recognized how power worked.
Those who made Bradley Hampton wait, for a time, held the power—and he’d known it. He hated when anyone held power over him at all. Sometimes, I had held the power.
When it came to his personal preferences and his safety, his safety had always trumped his preferences, and I became a mountain he couldn’t climb. My last act of service had been one of those mountains.
Even if he’d protested my decision, I would have done the same.
Some choices weren’t choices at all, and I’d meant my vow.
I stroked Ajani, wondering how much of my memories had vanished in the crash. I’d lost some, that much I’d pieced together. The moment of the crash itself remained seared in my mind, but I recognized missing puzzle pieces existed.
I’d been discussing something with Bradley in the moments before the crash. It had been an important something, something that’d shocked me almost as much as the realization I couldn’t avoid the crash and could only position the car in such a way he’d walk away despite knowing it’d likely lead to my death.
The doctors had warned me those memories might never return and had done their best to convince me I should let them go, just like I needed to let go of any hope of walking without impairment. Originally, I shouldn’t have been able to walk at all. I refused to accept the ‘without impairment’ part of my life’s equation. Maybe I’d die old and crippled, but I wouldn’t live without hope of beating the odds.
I could walk.
I’d already beaten the odds once.
Ajani let me off lightly, only requiring forty minutes of attention before she decided the only place for her most splendid majesty was my bed. I gathered up the fur I’d plundered from her coat, threw it out, grabbed my cane, and headed for the door. A trip to the main branch, located two miles down the street from my branch, would eat up time, get me out of the area, and get the ball rolling on my new projects, the ones I might even be able to talk the system into allowing without much of a fight.
My plan would resurrect unused space the library system paid for, allow us to add more books that would draw in additional readers, and make the senators happy. Well, the surviving ones. I’d be the bearer of bad news if my boss hadn’t already notified his bosses of Senator Godrin’s death. As I could either get a fight or cooperation, I brought a journal and a few pens with me for notes on what my realistic budget would be, how much space they’d want to dedicate to the types of archives the senators would like, and how else I might be able to justify why our small branch had the staff we did outside of our proximity to the Met, our tendency to draw politicians, and our heritage building.
It would not be a fun afternoon, but it beat the body at work.
Unfortunately for me, I would have to brave the streets to catch a cab. One day, I would get a phone. That day was not today—maybe.
No, on second thought, today was the perfect day to get a phone. I’d need it.
Three
Enter, you mutty blight.
The cab cost me a fortune, but it beat having to walk by my workplace to get to the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, which was the heart and soul of the New York Public Library. I loved the place. If a building could possess magic, the main branch’s building topped the charts with its elegant exterior and breathtaking interior. After I tangoed with the accounting department and one of the overseers of the system’s budget and development of branches, I’d spend some time in the computer lab to learn a little more about Senator Godrin and who might want him dead.
I’d lived in the ivory tower long enough to understand somebody wanted to make a point in the senator’s murder, a very public point. I expected our usual patrons would scatter so they wouldn’t be the next to end up decorating the library’s walls. The loss of patrons would put my branch in a precarious position, although it would give us the time we needed to complete renovations on the unused rooms of the building. We had an entire floor we could open for stock if I could convince the skinflints running the main branch to cooperate.
The senator’s death might even backfire, drawing people to the building to see where the man had been killed.
I hated it could go either way.
After a brief stop at the front desk, where I warned the librarian about the senator’s death and the other items on my to-do list, I headed for the administrative offices hidden throughout the building, out of view of the patrons. Rather than undergo the typical dance, the receptionist sent me to Beatrice’s office.
On a good day, Beatrice hated me. On a bad one, she likely planned my murder.
I loved her, as I could usually get what I wanted with minimal hassle.
Limping through the maze of cramped offices and cubicles, I headed to the very back where Beatrice reigned and knocked on her door.
“Enter, you mutty blight.”
I laughed at Beatrice’s barb. Had anyone else flung it at me, I would’ve taken offense, as I was technically a mutt regardless of my true magical rating. I’d lobbed far worse at her over the past year when we’d settled on a cooperative yet savage rivalry rather than the cordial professionalism expected of us. “Did you miss me that much, to start before I’ve even come into your office?”
According to the stacks of books taking over Beatrice’s office, she’d been recruited to handle acquisitions overflow, one of her least favorite tasks. Dodging the clutter with a cane and a briefcase with a shoulder strap took work, but I managed to close the door and make it to the sole chair in front of her desk without mowing anything over.
“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. You’re limping a lot today. You all right?”
“I forgot my cane on my way to work, and then I had to lug Ajani home. Senator Godrin was murdered on our steps. I was scheduled to come in an hour after opening for a change, so I missed the show. I’m just glad the cops let me take my cat home. I was worried they’d consider her a witness or evidence.”
I wished the police luck finding someone with the right magic to talk to cats—and then get my stubborn cat to cooperate after she’d been cruelly forced to return home rather than stay at the library.
“Tawnlen had called ab
out it, and he asked me to keep you busy for the rest of the day so he can pay you regular hours until that mess is sorted. Since the rest of the staff was at the office, he gets to roll them into our emergency measures, but since the library was closed before your shift started, he couldn’t squeeze you in. He played one of his games to make sure you were still on active pay.”
Huh. “Has hell frozen over? And the main branch approved?”
“With a senator dead on the steps, the staff will be under fire for weeks, and it wouldn’t surprise us if the senator’s family tries to pin the murder on one of the librarians or the support staff. Since you were the only one who wasn’t present, and witnesses who know you can vouch you have a low magic rating and that you arrived after his death and were spotted walking down the street at his time of death, you’re clear and there’s no need to question you. Or so I’ve been told.”
Ugh. I’d already been investigated? Well, I could deal with that turn of events. I couldn’t stomach the thought of my fellow librarians being accused of murder when I was the only one who worked in the building capable of pulling off the crime. “I appreciate that I’m not a suspect, but I’m now considering going to my apartment and hiding for the rest of my life, if people actually noticed me walking to work.”
“You limp, you limp badly, and you forgot your cane? I was wondering why you would’ve been limping, but you not having your cane explained that. Don’t forget your damned cane next time, idiot.”
“Fair. I’m an idiot. I’ve been told I’m a temporary head librarian, which is why I’m here, because the boss wants me to deal with our magazine archive and our empty rooms. We have an entire empty floor, Beatrice. An entire empty floor we’re paying for.”
“Yes, Tawnlen warned me you would come armed with logic and determination. As I don’t feel like losing an argument with some damned idiot mutt who can’t remember to take her damned cane to work, I’m going to skip the argument, so we’re going to skip straight to the budget discussion.”
