Library gate 3, p.1
Library Gate 3, page 1
WordEater
Book Three in the Library Gate Series
H. Duke
Dear reader
Thank you for reading Wordeater, the third book in the Library Gate Series. You can sign up for my reader group here. I regularly host giveaways and send out free stories.
When you’re done reading, please leave an honest review—it really does make a difference.
Enjoy the story!
-H. Duke
Chapter One
“Must you go, sorceress?” the genie asked. He ran his fingers over her bare collarbone, making her shiver.
April checked her watch. “I wish I could stay. I have to get back.” She grimaced.
“You seem unhappy about it.”
She shrugged. “It’s Dorian. It’s like he’s judging me whenever I walk back into the library.”
She stood and reached for her clothes, but the genie grabbed her wrists and pulled her back down. “We could make him come search for you again. I’d love to see the jealous look on his face.”
“No, I really need to get back, and—wait, what do you mean jealous look? Jealous of what?”
“Is it not obvious?” The genie raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Is what not obvious?”
“He’s infatuated with you.”
Her cheeks got hot. “What? No way. Why would you say that?” She pulled her clothes on more quickly than she’d planned to.
“I saw it from the moment I first laid eyes on the boy. I thought you knew. It’s hard to miss.”
“He’s hardly a boy,” April said.
“Compared to me he is.” the genie stretched.
“Big-headed much?”
The genie laughed. “My head is not the only thing about me that’s big.”
April groaned. “For someone who’s bragging about his manliness, you certainly have the humor of a fifteen-year-old boy.”
“Don’t be sore, Sorceress. I thought you knew about his fixation. It’s truly unmistakable.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“If you say so,” the genie shrugged. “Shall I take you back to your little doorway?”
“No. I’ll walk.” He couldn’t be right about Dorian, could he?
She barely noticed the dusty Ottoman city bustling around her as she made her way back to the gate. The genie was just trying to get under her skin, but she couldn’t get his words out of her head.
If she was honest with herself, there had been moments of tension between her and Dorian. She’d assumed it was because of the ink rot, or whatever stressful situations they’d been dealing with at the time.
And why did she care so much, anyway? Why did she dread Dorian’s disapproval? She wasn’t the type to let others shame her for the choices she made.
It’s because you don’t want things to be strained between you and Dorian, she told herself. Yeah, that was it. Made total sense.
Still, she hesitated when she arrived at the gate. But she couldn’t stay in the world of One Thousand and One Nights forever. With a sigh, she stepped through the veil.
Dorian sat at one of the tables, a stack of books in front of him. He looked up at her through his reading glasses.
“Hey,” she said, her face getting hot.
“Did you have a pleasant time?”
She nodded, her cheeks hot.
He looked back down at the book in front of him. “Good. See you tomorrow evening.”
“See you tomorrow.”
She gathered up her things. There was no way the genie was right. Was there? There was something in the way Dorian had looked away from her… but she must have imagined it.
Chapter Two
“Another book?”
April placed a finger in the book in question—Frankenstein by Mary Shelley—and glanced across the kitchen table at Gram. Gram frowned as she poured herself a second mug of green tea. “I don’t want to seem unsupportive of reading, but it’s all you do lately. That, and visit your boyfriend.”
April winced at the boyfriend comment—especially after the previous evening’s conversation with the genie—but she could relate to Gram’s annoyance at her constant reading. She’d thought Dorian was joking about assigning her a reading list. He wasn’t.
Out loud she said, “It’s for work. They want each library staff member to be knowledgeable about at least one area of literature. Lucky me, I drew the classics.” She sighed. She was sure Janet, Becky, and everyone else who worked at the library knew more about just about any genre than she did, including the classics.
“Well, you’d think that since they made it a requirement, they’d give you time at work to read. You know, when you’re getting paid.”
“Gram, when I started this job I knew I’d have to read more. I’m a librarian now, for crying out loud.” She grimaced at hearing the phrase she hated so much coming out of her own mouth.
Gram sighed. “I know. It’s just I never see you anymore, and when I do, you’ve got your nose in some book.”
Now that the ink rot was under control, April no longer stayed at the library into the wee hours of the morning, but she rarely came home before midnight. Even though she tried to force herself out of bed by nine, it wasn’t always possible. Oftentimes she’d sleep through her alarm and have barely enough time to eat lunch before heading to work.
“Sorry, Gram,” she said. “I’ll wake up earlier. I promise.”
“I know you’re up late visiting your friend,” Gram said, emphasizing the word. “But do you have to see him every night? I miss you. And…”
Gram trailed off, but April knew what she was thinking. She didn’t have a lot of time left. It was easy to forget Gram’s prognosis of a few months at best (and one month was already gone… time was moving too fast) because she looked so healthy. But the doctors had assured them that the cancer still lurked inside, growing stronger each day. It was biding its time, and one day it would attack, like some James Bond villain. The doctors said they were lucky Gram felt as good as she did.
Yeah. Lucky.
Guilt and something darker and more depressing flooded April’s stomach. “Sorry, Gram. I’ll cut it back.”
“You must really like him,” Gram mused, prying clandestinely.
“Yeah,” April said evasively. She still didn’t know the genie’s name, and she wanted to keep it that way. The last thing she needed was more complication in her life. That’s why she liked his company: it was uncomplicated.
“I’m looking forward to finally meeting him tomorrow.” Gram stressed the word finally.
Barty had agreed to pose as April’s boyfriend. Ostensibly it was so he could place a protective enchantment over the house—April had taken Thaddeus’ warning about the collectors targeting Gram to heart—but it also had the side benefit of fulfilling Gram’s desire to meet her significant other. April just wanted to get the whole evening over with. She still hadn’t thought of a way to tell Barty he’d be going by “Dorian” for the night. She winced at the memory of blurting out Dorian’s name the night Gram had grilled her about her new “boyfriend.”
It was bad enough on its own, but after the conversation with the genie…
From the living room, they heard the metallic clank of the mailbox outside the front door. Gram went to get the mail and April sighed and went over her schedule quickly in her head. “Why don’t we go to the mall sometime this week? How about Wednesday?” she said when Gram walked back into the kitchen.
Gram stopped rifling through the mail and raised her eyebrow. “Are you sure we can afford a shopping trip?”
April shrugged. “We can’t go crazy, obviously, but we can afford to window shop… and maybe treat ourselves to lunch in the food court. What do you say? It will be like when I was a little kid.”
Gram smiled. “Okay, hon. It’s a date.” She walked over to the calendar on the fridge and wrote mall with April in thick permanent marker.
~~~
April looked up from Frankenstein. She’d gotten so caught up in the downfall of Victor Frankenstein that she’d lost track of what was happening in the Werner Room. From her vantage point at the reference desk, she could see that the tables and arm chairs were nearly empty. Randall sat in his usual spot in the nearest armchair, and Rex was next to him, snout resting peacefully on his paws. Randall flipped through a magazine he’d brought up from the second floor.
April returned to Frankenstein, surprised by how drawn into the book she’d become. In fact, most of the books she’d read weren’t as boring as she’d expected. In the last week she’d finished The Time Machine, The War of the Worlds, and several works by Edgar Allen Poe. Most started slow, but once she got into them they weren’t too bad.
She jumped when Becky’s voice came over the walkie talkie sitting in its dock station. “Fifteen minutes to close.”
April placed an index card in Frankenstein, ready to start her closing check-list. To her surprise, Becky addressed her directly.
“Hey, April—is Randall up there?”
April grabbed the walkie talkie. “Yeah. Why?”
“Can you send him down? There are a few rowdy teenagers and I’d feel better if he were here when I give them the boot.”
Ever since Randall had stopped Rico’s mother from attacking April, Becky had been requesting Randall’s presence whenever she was in a situation that might escalate. A few of the other nighttime L.A.s had started to do the same.
“Sure, I’ll ask him. It’s empty up here.” She put the walkie talkie back on its charging stand and c alled over to Randall. “Do you mind going down to the first floor? There are some teens Becky thinks might give her trouble.”
Randall puffed up slightly. “Sure,” he said, and he and Rex made their way to the stairwell.
April smiled as he went, and then started on the closing check list.
~~~
They’d dealt with the night’s allotment of ink rot in less than a half hour and now she, Barty, Dorian, Randall, and Rex sat around the coffee table in the reading nook. Dorian had a complex system for deciding how much rot to take care of on any given night.
As far as she could tell, his system involved a rotating schedule of checking books. He’d go through them one by one and examine them for the black, ink splotch-like stains that indicated the rot had taken hold. Infected books were categorized by degree of severity, which was how he decided which ones needed immediate attention and which ones could be put off until later. For all she knew, he started with the A’s and when he got to the Zs, started all over again from the beginning.
“Let’s go over the plan for tomorrow night once more,” Dorian said. “Just to be sure we’re all on the same page.”
April nodded. “Barty’s going to come over for dinner. I’ll give him a tour of the house. He can place the spell then.”
Barty spoke up. His ears were a vibrant shade of red. “I still think it’s a better idea for me to cast the spell while delivering a pizza. I mean, what if your grandmother recognizes me from a delivery anyway?”
April snorted. “Gram’s never ordered a pizza in her entire life. Calls it a heart attack in a box. Anyway, you need to enter every room in the house, right?”
Barty nodded. “Closets, pantries, basements—you get the idea. Anything with a door that’s large enough for an adult to step through.”
“Well, it would be strange if I invited the pizza delivery guy in to see my closet, don’t you think?”
Barty nodded, though he didn’t look happy about it.
Randall rubbed his chin. “Can you explain again why you can’t do the same protection spell you placed on the library on their house?”
Barty shook his head. “That spell requires several magical components that I no longer possess, thanks to the collectors. It would be nearly impossible for me to find replacements. Definitely not before tomorrow night. Believe me, I’ve been trying.”
Randall ran his fingers through his hair. “So what will this enchantment do?”
Barty pulled out the volume of his grandfather’s grimoire from his satchel and opened it. He held up the book for them to see: Spell of Warning, it said.
“This is similar to the charm I put on April’s amulet, except it’s more powerful and more complex. It’s location-specific rather than person-specific. It takes a lot more power and preparation, though. If I set it up correctly, it will warn April if the collectors get anywhere near her house.” He stood. “That said, I still have some preparations to do—plus a good night’s sleep wouldn’t be a bad thing. I think we should call it a night, unless there’s something else to discuss.”
April shook her head. “I don’t have anything else.”
Dorian nodded. “Me neither.”
Barty was Randall’s ride, so they left together. After they walked out, April and Dorian were alone in the Werner Room.
“Do you need any help?” April asked, avoiding his eyes.
He shook his head. “There’s not much to find. We really pared down the rot.”
“Okay, then.” She stood and hesitated. She wanted to ask him about what the genie said, but knew it wasn’t a good idea. If the answer was yes—that he did have feelings for her—what good would it do to bring it up? And if the answer was no, it would just make things awkward between them…
Before she could make up her mind about asking, Dorian spoke. “Are you visiting the genie tonight?” The words were casual, like he was asking her if she was stopping to get gas on the way home. Like he didn’t care either way. Did that mean the genie was wrong? Or was it too casual, calculated?
She shook her head. “I told Gram I’d get up earlier to spend more time with her. The genie will understand.”
“Oh.”
“Well, good night.” She started to walk away but then turned back around. The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. “Why do you care if I go see the genie or not?”
Dorian looked up at her through his reading glasses. “I don’t. I just want to know if I’ll have access to my study.”
“Oh.” Of course that’s what it was. Why had she let the genie’s words get to her? Heat rose in her cheeks. Thank God she hadn’t actually asked if he liked her or something!
Dorian frowned at her, his eyes magnified slightly through his glasses. “Why? Is something bothering you?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean… I was just wondering. I’d better get home. Good night.”
He looked back down at the book in front of him. “Good night, Ms. Walker.”
Chapter Three
Thaddeus stood outside of the warehouse. The large, non-descript building was where the agency stored the magical items deemed suitable for mission use. He knew keeping magic around was a necessity, but he was glad he’d never had cause to go beyond the front office where the pleasant receptionists checked out the items he needed. Even being here, just knowing what was inside, was uncomfortable, like standing next to a live bomb.
Mason was late. He always was whenever he set up appointments somewhere other than his own office. In a way it was good, because he seemed to think that the lateness was enough posturing and didn’t lecture Thaddeus about random bullshit.
Finally, a car pulled up. It was a Benz, one of Mason’s less ostentatious cars. He imagined Mason going on and on to his poor assistant that a Ferrari or Porsche would look out of place in the warehouse district and wrinkled his nose.
“Thad!” Mason exclaimed when he stepped out of the car. “Good to see you, son! Thanks for meeting me here.”
He ushered Thaddeus through the front door. The interior resembled the lobby of an auto repair shop. Other than a vending machine, water cooler, and coffee maker, the room was fairly spartan. Nothing in the sad-looking chairs hinted at what lay behind the office doors.
Thaddeus recognized the woman behind the safety glass over the desk. Her name was Whitney, or maybe Wendy. Something that started with a W. He nodded to her.
“Good evening, Mr. Broker.” She smiled at him politely, then directed her attention to Mason. “What can we do for you today, Mr. Mason?”
Thaddeus expected him to ask her to fetch something from the back, some obscure magical item that would be helpful in acquiring the library portal. As though he knew enough about working in the field to make such decisions.
Instead, he said, “We’d like the tour today, Whitney.”
Tour? Why would Mason take him into the warehouse? Field agents, even those as high up as Thaddeus was, didn’t have access. Thaddeus’ skin crawled at the thought.
“Of course.” Whitney smiled at Mason, then glanced at Thaddeus with more appreciation. “I’ll grab someone. Please help yourselves to the snack bar.”
Neither of them touched the snack bar. Mason kept playing around with his phone, telling Thaddeus that his daughter was having some trouble at school. Thaddeus was happy enough to stare off into space and wonder why Mason was letting him into the back. What could he possibly have to show him back there?
Maybe he was going to explain to him the necessity of keeping a few items around, how important it was in giving them an edge against the people they were up against. He didn’t need to bother; Thaddeus had long since accepted that it was the only way to even the playing field. It was his burden to bear to be one of the few people who were truly against magic who had to sometimes wield it. It was an irony of nature, a price he had to pay.
Finally, a woman he hadn’t seen before came out through the only door behind the desk. Her nametag read “Jane.” She was dressed business-casual in khaki pants, a white polo, and sensible, sturdy shoes. She smiled politely at them; apparently fawning over them like Whitney did was not in her job description.
“Follow me,” she said, opening the waist-high swinging door that led behind the bullet-proof glass. Thaddeus did as he was told. Why did he feel like he’d just stepped over some kind of line?
