Page 13 of Booked for Theft (Vigilante Magical Librarians #3)

THIRTEEN

I wondered what I’d find hidden within their pages.

Within five minutes of arriving at work and checking my work email, I realized I was in for a week from hell. Politicians from every level of government had swarmed, and all of them wanted to contribute to the library system. The New Yorkers of the lot came out in force with their wallets ready, and they wanted to contribute to a memorial plaque for Senator Thaddens, a lover of all things books.

None of the potential donors brought up the man’s politics, and they all mentioned his love of history and literature.

The remaining politicians on Dr. Castor’s list came armed with requests to donate during an in-person meeting along with inquiries on if it would be appropriate to offer personal thanks in the form of a book or two for my personal library as gratitude for helping Senator Thaddens final wishes come to pass.

Fortunately for my sanity, the President of the United States had been informed of such inquiries and had already sent a note to my boss that such things were permissible, including a note that the average book cost no more than fifty dollars for those wanting new hardbacks.

If President Castillo viewed books as being worth no more than fifty dollars, and that gifts of such meager value were acceptable, then I would pretend there was nothing amiss about accepting books from politicians.

Those bribing me with books went to the top of the list for personal meetings, and I sorted the rest by the value of their donation before diving into emailing and calling everyone back based on their preference. Most wanted an email or text, but four wanted calls, and they had been kind enough to leave me their schedule so I could reach out when they were available.

By noon, I had scheduled a lunch date on Wednesday with Representative Forsythe of Alabama, who would be in New York until Friday due to the funeral. Representative Dareth of New York had won points with me by inquiring if I might bring Bradley out to dinner. He wanted to try the dish that had made me cry, as rumor had spread I was a connoisseur of all things spicy. Then, because Representative Dimitris of Texas wasn’t to be outdone by some pesky northerner and had a friendly rivalry with Representative Dareth, I’d end up tangoing with both men at the same time.

They would be available on Friday night, and they wanted to prove their mettle to me of all people. As such, I’d made us a reservation for dinner at the Indian restaurant Bradley had found.

The last of the men left on Dr. Castor’s list, Representative Allany of Nevada, would be in town until Thursday afternoon, and he would be able to see me Thursday morning before heading to the airport.

All of them had brought at least one book for me.

I wondered what I’d find hidden within their pages.

By the time Monday evening rolled around, I’d managed to reply to all the inquiries, book the in-person meetings, and secure a little over a hundred smaller donations through sending the appropriate link. When I’d first suggested we have a donation page for each major contribution category, I’d angered the entire library administration from the comfort of my California hotel room. It had taken me an hour to convince them to do it, and it had only taken a week for them to see the difference.

Our acquisitions page received the most love, and our libraries would be monuments to knowledge for generations to come—assuming the government didn’t tear our society down around us. I worried that might be the case. As the final minutes ticked down before I was scheduled to flee, I checked my bank account to discover that my fiancé had been playing with money again, depositing thirty thousand dollars for me. Rolling my eyes, I called him.

“Are you working late tonight?” he asked upon answering.

“No. I’m checking my bank account and discovered you had been playing with your depositing privileges again.”

“If you hadn’t wanted me throwing money at you, you wouldn’t have given me your banking details.” He laughed at me. “Why were you checking your account?”

“I am going to the used bookstore on my way home. I wanted to figure out how much I could spend on adding to my empire.” I heaved a sigh to inform him I’d been pushed to my limits. “Please tell me you have no plans for Friday night.”

“I did not have any plans for Friday night. What’s happening Friday night?”

“We have a dinner date with a pair of politicians, both of whom wish to engage in culinary warfare. They will be attempting to survive the Indian restaurant. I made a reservation already, and I introduced myself as your fiancé, the insane woman who wants it spicier. They knew who I was. They referred to me as the Future Mrs. Bradley Hampton, and they laughed while doing it.”

“I was quite hopeful I would defeat you this time. And I did. I’ll admit, I’m a little disappointed that I did not become instantly married upon providing food spicy enough to make you cry.”

Well aware we would be processing our marriage documentation the same day as the engagement party, I rolled my eyes at his antics. “I’m pretty sure I confirmed our engagement party and the filing of important documentation. Also, we need the license, and I have a lunch date with a politician on Wednesday, and we’ll be near one of the courthouses that handle those papers. As such, I’m going to require you to be nearby so we can attend to that documentation on Wednesday.”

“I will enjoy adding you to my calendar on Wednesday. Are you prepared for some good news?”

I smiled at the thought of kittens. “If it’s about furry companionship for Ajani, I’m interested.”

“I took Ajani to the shelter where the litter of kittens is at, and we are now the proud custodian of two foster fails. There are not the original foster fails I was in talks with the shelter about, but I think you will find our new girls to be delightful demonesses out for our blood and home.”

The pride in Bradley’s voice did me in. “All right. Tell me how this came to be.”

“The shelter had all the candidates out, and there were two that had just been brought in from the street. They’ve been bathed, flea treated, and given vaccinations, but that was it. They were still wet from being bathed. Ajani circled the room, hissed at most of the litters, and stole a sopping kitten, carried her to the carrier, and put her inside before grabbing the second kitten and deciding they were hers. Fortunately, Ajani did not view me as a risk to her kittens, but the shelter workers got hissed at. Those are her kittens now.”

“Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did record it. I’ll just apologize now, because by the time she stole the second kitten, I was laughing hard enough I snorted. I think she remembered being rescued when she was a sopping wet and cold kitten. They were wet, yes, but they weren’t cold. But Ajani was a superstar and got them groomed and dried off. Fortunately, they’re a little older, so we won’t have to worry about bottle feeding them.”

I frowned, as a little inconsistency in his story compared to our reality captured my attention. “Our carrier can’t fit Ajani and any other cats, kittens or not.”

“I bought a medium dog carrier with wheels specifically for the purpose of acquiring kittens today. It’s large enough for three cats to fit in should there be an emergency. It also rolls, so outside of hauling it down any steps, it can be managed with grace. I wheeled your fluffy goddess and our two new princesses to your SUV, as I noticed you had opted to walk to work today. I stole your baby and made off with her.”

“I’ll allow it; you were acquiring kittens for us. What happened to their mother?”

“I have no idea. We’ll have to quarantine Ajani and the kittens for at least a week, though. I’m sure the library will survive. I didn’t want the kittens to stay in the shelter, and I promised I’d take them to their vet next week to make sure nobody is sick. Ajani needs her boosters anyway, so we’ll take care of everything at the same time.”

“Ajani is not going to appreciate you making her visit two different vets. She is going to mark your soul, and she is going to get her revenge.” I would miss Bradley if Ajani destroyed him for his sins. “And since you’re the reason she has to go twice, you get to take her.”

“Harsh but fair. When can I expect you to get home?”

“I expect to get lost in a bookstore on the way home. It could be thirty minutes, it could be sometime tomorrow after work. Who knows? Not me. I’ll be a librarian left unattended in a bookstore.”

Bradley snickered. “I’ll meet you at the bigger of the used bookstores in ten minutes and provide adult supervision and a wagon for you to store your spoils.”

The wagon, which had been his idea, would drive us to the brink of madness. Rather than drive, he’d decided he wanted to walk to the grocery store. The wagon allowed us to haul our plunder home. Its oversized tires even handled slush tolerably well. Better still, we avoided using one of the grocery store carts.

Our wagon took up less space, and when he secured the handle, he could push it in front of him with no problems.

“I will see you in ten minutes. Make sure the kittens won’t get into trouble while we’re gone.”

“As they are not quite up for jumping over gates yet, I will lock them in the kitchen while I’m gone. In good news for us, they’re large enough for our new automatic litter box, which will be delivered later today. I got them their own standard litter box, which I have near the trash can right now. I ordered two more of the automatic boxes, and they’ll be here early next week. There was only one in stock locally.”

Life would be good, as the only thing better than having a cat was having numerous cats. “I hope we can teach these kittens to be lap and feet kittens.”

“I’m confident this will not be a problem. I’ll go contain the beasts. Try not to buy the entire store before I get there.”

“But what if I want to buy the entire store?”

“Please don’t. I’d have to find a way to make it happen, and I’m not sure I can afford that after buying the condo. But at least everything, including the renovations, was paid off out of the gate, right? And I even prepaid the maintenance on the place for twenty years at a set two percent increase per year to limit that potential nightmare. I did some checking, and the average is four percent a year.”

Bradley had suffered from anxiety issues of his own upon my return to New York, and I held hope he’d overcome them sooner than later. For the most part, he fretted about how I would view his various spending sprees in my absence, the condo being the expensive one.

For whatever reason, he refused to consider how much money he had made during my disappearance, not that I was truly aware of the value. I avoided asking him, as such questions distressed him. From what I understood from our parents, he’d struck it rich, felt guilty about his prosperity in my absence, and had zero problems with making that money disappear rapidly.

In a few weeks, I would propose therapy over the financial issues.

“Bradley, as you didn’t go into debt over prepaying the building maintenance, I’m fine with it. Yes, we’re screwed if we move because the fee prepayment doesn’t apply to the next owner and we will not be refunded, but we’re not that screwed. It’s paid off in full. If we get into dire financial straits, as long as we’re able to keep our internet and electricity bills paid plus buy food, we’ll be fine. Shelter is fully covered.”

“I know, but I still worry about it.”

“Please do the math for me. If the average increase is four percent a year, and the four percent a year applies to the increases that occurred prior, you locking us into the maintenance fees saved us a great deal of money. Thank you for negotiating that. It’s a lot easier to not worry about the condo when the maintenance fees are paid for in advance for roughly a third of my entire lifespan. It’s not like we have any plans on moving out of the New York City area.”

“That’s true.” Bradley laughed, and a moment later, I heard a chorus of mews. “All right, you furry tyrants. It’s time to go into the kitchen prison. Ajani, you can go where you want, including the counters, because I’ve learned that there’s zero chance in hell we’re teaching you not to climb wherever you want whenever you want.”

I snickered. In good news for our sanity, Ajani didn’t jump onto the counters often, as she disliked sliding across the polished stone, something that happened more often than not. “I’ll meet you at the bookstore. Try to escape their clutches sooner than later. If I’m left alone, I absolutely will buy more books than will readily fit into the wagon.”

“Maybe I should get a second wagon.”

“We do not need a second wagon. Just hurry up, tell Ajani I will always love her best, and meet me at the bookstore.”

If I wanted to put together a true timeline of the deterioration of the United States, I would need to dive back in time, searching for ancient books the government had missed in their purge. Magic had helped with preservation, and there was a healthy market for antiquities. If anyone asked, I would simply tell them Senator Thaddens had instilled a love of old books within me.

As such, I headed for the bookstore’s collection of books over two hundred years old, targeting the MR collection first.

The AD collection would run a risk of exposing me if I didn’t make it appear as though I wanted variety—and only after I’d gotten everything I wanted out of the MR books. As such, I went on a rampage, purchasing a sampling of non-fiction and fiction books, taking care to slip in the volumes that might discuss the downfall of the old system and the rise of the new.

Unless we understood how the machine worked, we couldn’t dismantle it in such a way it could never rise again.

I was thirty books deep into my rampage when Bradley showed up with the wagon, which he left with the amused bookshop owner, who was well used to our voracious ways. He stared at me with a raised brow. “I’m five minutes late, as a kitten attacked my foot and required attention, and you’ve found how many books you want?”

I pointed at my pile. “Those.” As I’d completed my MR rampage, I headed for the AD section, which would cost us a frightful amount of money. “Albert, I need you to rescue me, please,” I called, aware the man loved when I, a librarian, needed his help. “These books are being mean to me.”

As his AD collection was stored behind glass on the very top shelf, he would need to get out the ladder to help me conquer. As he was versed regarding my special needs, he saved himself the time and effort, bringing the ladder with him. “Did Bradley finally convince you to spend your money on the old books you really want?”

I pointed up at the AD section that should contain books from the timeline I wanted to research. “I am trying to acquire at least two books from every AD decade since the invention of the printing press.”

Albert joined Bradley in raising a brow at me. “That’s an ambitious project but one that might leave you with some shelf space when you’re finished. Are we pursuing fiction or non-fiction?”

“I’m going to start with non-fiction, perhaps two per decade,” I replied, locked on to my shelf of choice. After pointing at it, I said, “I am going to begin my collection there. That book has a gorgeous red spine, and I wish to behold its glory. I’m going to need a pair of gloves and assurance there is nothing up there that can’t be handled.”

Albert dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pair of black gloves, which he handed over to me. “Everything up there can be handled. Please don’t fall. Be careful when passing down the books you want.”

With a little help from both men, I situated the ladder before scrambling up. Albert passed me the keys for the case, which I unlocked. Once I had the glass slid open, I began the tedious process of checking over every single book for its contents.

The book with a red spine proved to be a leather bound edition of a fiction piece that took place almost two hundred years prior to my target decade. Magic had preserved it to a like new collection. A bookmark inside informed me I would pay a thousand dollars for the title.

“This is fiction, but it’s going home with me, Bradley. It’s pretty, and I haven’t read this one.”

My fiancé, who also wore gloves, held up his hands to take the book. “I will make certain it comes home with us. You can fall in love with one other ancient fiction book, but the rest needs to be non-fiction today. We’re working on your non-fiction shelves this week.”

I pouted and handed over my prize. “Thank you.”

Using the fiction book as my starting point, I sorted through the offerings until I found titles between 2060 AD through 2120 AD. Living up to my claim I meant to collect two from each decade, I took care to pick from a variety of subjects outside of the window I needed to pursue closer.

Luck was with me, as there were several contemporary political science text books published in the aftermath of the dating change, one published in 2112 and another in 2123, which might offer some insights. A contemporary history book from 2105 might offer some illumination. I added a book on diplomatic sciences from 2111, which I’d blame on my visit to the White House. Outside of those books, nothing else appeared to be relevant, so I acquired a book on global currencies and economics from 2109, a botany book, a variety of cookbooks, and a guide on how to brew beer and wine at home.

My fiancé pointed up at the shelf. “What is that big book on the end of the shelf you’re looking at?”

I leaned over to check the spine, which had nothing on it to indicate what it was. Puzzled, I grabbed it, taking care in case the spine wasn’t in good condition. I peeked inside to discover someone had made a scrapbook, including photographs, newspaper scraps, and handwritten notes. “It’s someone’s personal collection of random stuff.” I checked the bookmark. “It’s fifty dollars.”

“I want it. The spine is gorgeous.”

I checked the spine, which lacked text but had been etched with fancy designs. Shrugging, I handed it down for him. “It’s your money. If you want to play with the personal collection of random stuff, I’m not going to stop you.” Moving the book revealed that there was a packet of papers that had been crammed between the book and its neighbor, pushed back enough I hadn’t noticed the lack of a proper book spine. I grabbed it, my eyes widening as I read the topmost pamphlet, which indicated it was a voter’s guide for the state of Oregon from 2104. I thumbed through the papers, discovering voter guides for Oregon for an entire decade. “Oh, this is cool.”

According to the bookmark, the set would cost me ten dollars, and I handed it down to Bradley to put into the pile. “Hey, Albert. Do you have any more weird stuff up here?”

“Weird stuff?” The shopkeeper investigated what I’d pulled down, and he laughed upon spotting the scrapbook. “Actually, yes. One shelf over has pamphlets and other oddities. That one was put there because I ran out of space.”

I got off the ladder, moved it into better position to work with the next shelf, and began the tedious process of going through his pamphlets, which ranged from animal rights activism, advertisements, religious promotion, political propaganda, and campaign information. After ten minutes of trying to sort through everything, I said, “Do you have a box, Albert? Because screw this, I’ll just buy everything on this shelf.”

He laughed at me and got a box before accepting the piles I passed down and loading them up for me. “I picked it up from an estate sale for twenty dollars, so pitch me an offer.”

“I’ll give you a hundred for the whole lot to make up for everything gathering dust and the magic you likely needed to use to preserve everything.”

“I would have asked for fifty, but if you really want to pay me a hundred, I won’t complain.”

I giggled, clearing off the shelf in record time. “Okay, Bradley. I think we can head home now. I have plundered to my heart’s content—at least for today.”

“I’ll even make the second trip alone while you organize everything on the table and visit with the kittens. I don’t think everything is going to fit into the wagon.”

Well, it would if we were willing to stack books on top of the box.

“I have more boxes, and we can lash everything down so you can make only one trip. It’ll be fine. Let’s get you checked out so you can take this fine lady home and feed her spicy food. She looks like she hasn’t had spicy food for at least three days.”

I laughed at the quip, which he’d started using long before Bradley had come barreling back into my life.

His shop was one of the few I could reach while wearing my medical boot.

“This is still my favorite bookstore,” I announced, taking care while getting down from the ladder. “And next week, I’ll be back with my wagon for another round of plunder. I have empty shelves in my office, Albert.”

“That is absolutely criminal. You better take one more book for the road.” He took the ladder several shelves down, climbed up, unlocked one of his other cabinets, and brought down a dusty old book in need of cleaning and care. “Don’t let the cover deceive you. There’s a lot of magic on this book keeping it in good condition.”

“How much?” Bradley asked, and I grinned as my fiancé failed to hide his interest, licking his lips in anticipation.

“I’ll sell it to you for a hundred dollars, which for a book of this age basically makes it a gift. Don’t worry about me taking a loss on it. It’s a treasure I got out of the same estate sale those papers came from. The seller didn’t want to sort any of the papers or books, so they sold them in lots. I got the book portion of the collection for fifty dollars, so I’m making excellent profit. My other option was to price it closer to its actual worth, and it makes me sick thinking a book that expensive came from an estate bundle I bought for fifty dollars. I have another book from that batch that will make me a fortune.”

“What book?”

“It’s an autographed first edition copy of Stephen King’s The Stand .”

My eyes widened. The book had somehow survived through the calendar change and the government’s general overhaul of society. I’d fallen in love with everything about the novel the first time I read it as a classic in the tail end of my stint in school.

When I wanted to watch the world burn, I opened my digital copy and read about the destruction of the planet, delighting in the author’s turn of phrase and ability to convey such a dismal reality.

“You have a first edition signed copy of The Stand ?” I whispered.

“I do. I even had it authenticated through an object reader.”

“Obviously, it wasn’t my father, because if he had gotten to handle that book, he would have gushed about it for at least a month. We saw Janette reading it, became curious, read it ourselves, and we all loved it. I am prepared to make you exceptionally wealthy. That book must come home with us, Albert.”

“You haven’t even seen its condition yet. And honestly, the cover isn’t all that appealing. It’s rather… bland.”

I shook my head, waving off his concerns. “It’s precious, and it’s one of my favorite books. I didn’t think any original print editions had survived. I’m grateful we can get the unabridged version of it!”

Language had changed over the years, and the first few times I’d read it, the differences in grammar had flummoxed me. On subsequent readings, I had learned to enjoy the variations and reminders of change.

“The price tag is offensive,” Albert admitted. “I just can’t bring myself to list it for its true value. It’s too much.”

“Bradley, do what you want. I’m going to find a secluded section of this store and cry,” I announced, heading off to do just that while I attempted to console myself with a book from the fiction section.

“You’re not actually going to cry,” he called out.

“I’m going to think about it!”

He laughed at me.

Twenty minutes later, which I spent arguing with myself over what book to buy, Bradley found me, took all three candidates, and headed for the counter. “I have paid for all but these books. You can buy these ones for yourself. The wagon has been packed, and I’m afraid you’ll have to carry these prizes, as they won’t fit.”

Armed with my wallet, I went to pay for my books, laughing when I spotted the wagon heavily burdened with boxes. “Is it going to even roll?”

“As I tested it to make sure, yes.”

After spending fifteen dollars on my books, I stuffed all three into my bag, pleased I had stuck with my digital reader to take to work. “Thank you for your help, Albert.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you again in a day or three, I’m sure.”

Much like the store in Washington D.C., I could buy a book for a quarter, and I often found my way into the cheap book section for some retail therapy after a bad day. “Don’t be surprised if I come in on Monday with my standard fee. This week is going to be a doozy.”

“You say that like last week wasn’t a doozy,” Bradley muttered, dragging our wagon to the shop’s entry. I grabbed the back, we counted to three, and lifted the damned thing over the threshold, down the six inch step, and onto the street. “I’ll bring her back with a slightly larger budget. By Monday, she’s going to need at least a dollar’s worth of book compensation.”

“Dare I ask?”

“She has to work with politicians. But at least she’s taking them for money to fund the library system.”

The older man snickered. “If you give her a twenty dollar bill, you’ll get at least two hours of peace and quiet. I’m sure I can keep her out of trouble that long.”

“If I give her a twenty, we’ll have to send out a search party to recover her. She won’t leave without force.”

“How about you give me a twenty and a two hour budget? I can probably manage that without the need for a search party. It’s only when I’m not given a time limit that you run real risk of losing me in the stacks.” I herded Bradley down the street. “Thank you again, Albert.”

“You’re welcome. Stay safe and enjoy the new books.”