Page 1 of Lunar Diamonds (Celestial Magic #1)

RILEY

T he goblin threw War and Peace at my head.

I ducked just in time, the hardback slamming into the wall behind me with a mighty bang, bouncing off the back section of the circular library helpdesk to land on my foot.

“Holy crap!” I cried, hopping in pain.

Damn you, Leo Tolstoy, for writing such a big book!

“And now you use foul language in my presence?” the goblin growled. “Get me your manager. Now!”

All this drama because it wasn’t the exact edition he wanted to read? Did it really matter? And when I’d asked him questions about the favored edition, he hurled abuse at me. Offered no ISBN, no details, just vitriol.

Arsehole.

I loved being a librarian. I really, really did. I’d worked so hard applying for the position and putting my best foot forward to make it mine. Being part of an important community hub filled me with pride.

But there were people who didn’t appreciate the wonders of the library, bringing their entitled attitudes and bulbous green noses, complete with five hairy warts.

Well, only in the case of this goblin. And his nose didn’t matter. Your face was your face. But when your soul practically reeked of rotten eggs, then everything was fair game to critique.

Wow, those hairs were like barbed wire.

“Manager! Now!” The goblin slammed his fist on the helpdesk, the big gold ring on his middle finger flashing in the bright overhead lighting.

I lifted my foot, leaned against the desk, and rubbed at it through my shoe. “You assaulted me.”

He grunted, going for another fist slam. “I said get me your manager. Or do I have to come around there and stomp on your other smelly human foot?”

Smelly? No way. I was as fresh as a daisy. Fresher than that, even. Every inch of me smelled of raspberry shower gel and my favorite cologne. No body odor here. I wouldn’t allow it.

My cheeks flushed with angry heat, my forehead creasing into a frown. He’d crossed a line accusing me of having putrid feet.

“Piss off!” I retorted.

Oh, the sweet sight of shock on his saggy face soothed something inside of me. “Excuse me?”

I wasn’t done. “Who the hell do you think you are, lobbing books at people?” I put my throbbing foot down, puffing up my chest like an angry pigeon. “I should come around there and smash you in the face with my stamp.” I picked up the book stamp we used to mark new stock, waving it in his face.

Check me out being all aggressive—not a common me trait.

I considered myself a positive person—ninety percent perky with a ten percent leeway for, well, the down moments. But definitely a glass-half-full guy who never let arseholes dull his sparkle too much.

Unfortunately, that positivity had taken a walloping from emotional leeches this past week. I’d only just recovered from a human woman tearing into me because I politely asked her not to eat her chicken curry in the non-fiction section.

Why did they have to be so mean?

The goblin’s mean yellow eyes bulged, steam practically curling from his bald head. “Get. Me. Your?—”

“And what’s with this mustard suit?” I threw in, wagging my finger at his ugly clothes. “My poor eyes.” I looked him up and down as if I were some brutal editor-in-chief at an elite fashion magazine.

“You—”

I cut him off. “How does it not make you want to vomit?” I squinted theatrically, lifting a hand to shield myself from the fashion faux pas.

Like his warts, his suit really didn’t matter. But my foot throbbed, and I wanted to hurt him back.

The goblin snarled. “I will have your job. Manager. Now.” He drummed his fingers on the helpdesk.

My job… That little burst of bravado collapsed like a house of cards on a wonky table.

Crap.

“Hurry up!” he barked.

I drew a deep breath, picking up the phone in defeat. I held a finger over the internal call button marked “Carol.”

I hesitated. Maybe I could make this better before involving my manager. I couldn’t afford to lose my job, especially because of this goblin’s sour grapes over War and Peace .

You won’t…

Carol always took our side. I didn’t have to worry.

But that didn’t stop my chest constricting. I’d cultivated four years of pristine customer service, hating the idea of any sort of stain on my record.

You’re overthinking this…

Yeah, maybe. But I tried turning the tables before hitting the button.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “Let’s?—”

“Too late!”

Sally, a colleague, arrived to back me up. “What?—”

“Manager!” the goblin screamed in her face.

“Call her,” Sally said, instantly defeated.

“Dammit…” I muttered, my palms sweaty.

The goblin laughed, emanating extreme arrogance. “Yes. You are in a lot of poop. Now call your manager.”

“I’m sorry,” I attempted, the apology practically burning my tongue.

“Shove it.”

This wasn’t fair. I was the injured party here, for goodness’ sake.

“What’s taking so long, idiot?”

Okay, I’d had enough.

I hit the button.

“This is outrageous!” the goblin roared.

My poor ears.

“Get me someone higher than you!” He pointed a green finger in my manager’s face.

Carol, her arms firmly crossed, stood her ground. “There is no one higher than me.”

“You cannot do this to me!”

My eardrums were on the verge of perforating.

After calling Carol, she came out of her office to deal with the situation. She first listened to the goblin go off, then heard my side of the story. Seeing as there were other customers browsing the shelves near the desk, they all corroborated my side of the story.

Bless their cotton socks.

Carol wasn’t having his nonsense. She’d told Sally to lock the entrance doors, and another colleague to call the police.

“This is false imprisonment!” the goblin wailed. “This will not stand.” He fished a phone from his pocket. “I am calling my lawyer.”

“Do it,” Carol responded.

The goblin dialed, quickly spitting demands down his phone.

Carol dropped her arms, coming over to me. “Are you alright? How’s the foot?”

I nodded. “Nothing broken.”

My manager’s friendly face always made me feel ten times better. Her fair skin and rosy cheeks gave off serious cutie pie vibes. But she was also formidable as hell. Having previously worked in a prison, she took zero crap.

“Good. Go take a break.”

“I’m fine.”

She cocked a severe brow at me. “Break. Now.”

“Am I in trouble?

“Why would you be?”

I rubbed the back of my head. “For mouthing off.”

She smiled warmly. “A first time for everything. Don’t worry. This isn’t your fault. You were assaulted. Now go. I’ll deal with this.”

Knowing not to argue, I headed across the library’s ground floor toward the door leading into the staff only area.

“Where is he going?” the goblin bellowed.

“None of your business,” Carol rebutted.

Other things were said, but I ignored them. Head dipped to avoid eye contact, I typed in the door’s code and vanished into the peaceful haven of the customer-free zone.

I leaned on a shelf filled with encyclopedias, catching my breath.

Stupid goblin, getting the better of me. Good job my temperament didn’t run hot.

Ugh. What a day.

After a minute or so, I made my way up the spiral staircase to the workroom on the first floor.

My foot still throbbed, but I walked fine. Nothing sitting for half an hour or so wouldn’t ease. Oh, and a nice cup of tea.

January sunlight spilled across the threadbare blue carpet and white walls of the workroom through the panoramic window on my left.

Nina, a werewolf and colleague, stood by the window, her incredible purple hair almost blinding in the sunlight. She watched the city of Coldharbour, her arms tightly folded across her chest, the green frames of her glasses complimenting her tawny beige complexion.

Our workroom overlooked a small shopping precinct. I joined her, watching people milling about, enjoying a sunny yet cold day after a week of gloomy fog and rain, grabbing bargains from the January sales.

Mental note: must seek out discounted lamps. I broke my last one on Christmas Day like a complete fool. That’ll teach me for twerking too hard to Elton John’s ‘Step Into Christmas.’

“I heard there was drama,” Nina said, keeping her eyes on the shoppers.

“When isn’t there?” I itched at the skin under my witch bangle.

She flicked her hair. “True.”

If only I were as pretty as her.

“At least you’ve had some action.” She unfolded her arms, tugging at her lanyard and fiddling with the name badge hanging on the end of the green strap. “I’ve been printing new Dewey labels.”

Nina loathed the Dewey Decimal system and never let anyone forget it.

She needed a career change.

“I need a gin,” she said.

A spiced rum and coke was my usual, but I’d go for a gin. “Got any?”

She laughed. “At work? Dream on, Riley.”

“You can’t blame a guy for salivating at the prospect of booze.”

She faced me, inspecting me with her brown eyes. “Where did the book hit you?”

I pointed at my right foot. “Here.”

The red light on my witch bangle flashed green. “Oh. Look…” I held it up. The light only ever turned green if an attack or threat to life was imminent.

Clever things, really. There to regulate witches, heavily restricting magic, activating whenever we needed to protect ourselves from danger.

Like now.

I guess you didn’t see the goblin’s book throwing as much of a threat, huh? I thought at it.

The workroom’s solitary skylight collapsed, the glass shattering with a terrifying crash.

I yelped, staggering forward in surprise as a shade landed on the broken glass, its menacing crimson eyes fixed on me.

Oh, crap.