Page 10 of Must Love Libraries and Libations (Moonshine Hollow #2)

ERASMUS

P utting all thoughts of the annoying party planner, the elder, and the birthday celebration behind, I returned home that night to my work. I slipped in through the roof with ease. The bookwyrms were doing well, busy with their evening frolics or simply reading.

The library itself was hard at work. The shelves reorganized themselves, putting away scrolls and tomes or reshelving books in the right spot.

The broom worked cleaning up the dust, rags oiled the stairwell banister, making the wood shine.

Any stray magic that had been left behind by the students’ studies was rounded up and ingested by the bookwyrms, who chased the odd glowing balls or whisps of light.

The bookwyrms enjoyed hunting and chasing the random bites of mana, more treats than problems.

I slipped into my study, going to my workbench once more. I shook out my wings and gathered my old tools. Once or twice, I had seen newer equipment in the marketplace, something that may have worked better and faster at restoring old books and scrolls, but I didn’t need modern contraptions.

I was perfectly content with things as they were.

Just like I didn’t need party balloons in my atrium.

Or cake.

Or fireworks.

But the image of those fiery hazel eyes and freckled cheeks, turning red with frustration, retuned once more.

Shaking Miss Windsong from my mind, I turned back to my work repairing the binding on one of the books. It was simple work. Using a combination of my magic and the tools, I had the book settled in no time.

My eyes drifted to the chest with the witch’s grimoire.

Perhaps a little more work tonight…

But a noise from the library captured my attention once more.

First there was a thud. Then, I heard a delighted squeal.

One of the bookwyrms puffed loudly, the distinct scent of cinnamon filling the air.

And then the terrible, unmistakable scraping sound of something being dragged across the floor with great determination and very little grace came to my ears.

I rose from my workbench. “Please do not let that be the reading chaise again.”

I made my way out of the study and peered across the workroom.

Louisa May was skittering across the floor with a torn scrap of silver velvet in her mouth. Behind her, Hawthorne was attempting to pull a silver-bound tome across the floor.

My eyes narrowed. “Hawthorne, please tell me that is not the Hekate codex.”

He paused mid-lug and blinked innocently at me.

“Wait, have you been in the rare books room?” I looked from Lousia May to Hawthorne. “Please tell me you have not been in the rare books room.”

Lousia May chirped sweetly, but Hawthorne’s eyes narrowed. I could see he was planning his escape with his very shiny book.

“Hawthorne, that book is four centuries old and only slightly less temperamental than I am. And, I remind you, it is still cursed even if I have the spells locked in place.”

Louisa May trilled cheerfully.

“No, I don’t care how shiny it is,” I said then narrowed my gaze at her. “Wait a minute. What is that fabric in your mouth?” In that moment, I could see the velvet drape in her mouth had, in fact, been pilfered from the rare artifacts display case.

Caught.

Lousia May called to Hawthorne, sounding a loud trumpet, then the two sprinted into action, dashing away from me, the codex bumping along behind Hawthorne.

“Hawthorne! Stop! That book could kill you, you scaley fool. I don’t care how shiny it is.”

Louisa May took to the air in a gleeful zigzag, looping toward her mate. As I lunged to intercept them, she somersaulted midair and dropped the velvet directly over my face.

Blinded, I stumbled, tripping over Poe, who had inexplicably stationed himself in the middle of the floor. I collided squarely with the biographies shelf. The shelf would have collapsed, but the library itself righted the bookcase in time.

By the time I untangled the velvet from my horns, the codex had changed claws.

Ambrose was now sprinting full-tilt down the corridor with it, flanked by Hemingway and Twain, who were working as a getaway crew. The Hekate codex released warning puffs of purple smoke.

“This is not happening,” I growled, giving chase. “You have to stop! You’re going to release a hex on the book.”

The other bookwyrms aided the getaway. Book carts wheeled directly into my path. Paper planes fluttered through the air like a squadron of butterflies chasing after me.

Twain paused to blow a raspberry at me before tossing the codex into the air, where Louisa May caught it with a triumphant screech.

Finally, the library itself weighed in on my side. Sending pillows flying from the lounge chairs, it gently diverted the other bookwyrms from my path. I rounded the corner into the low and narrow Herbalism section of the library only to find…

I stopped short.

A nest.

There was a nest.

Louisa May landed beside Hawthorne in their makeshift nest. The pair looked at me from the assembled nest of paper scraps, an abandoned scarf, ribbons, silver buttons, silver inkpots, and a surprisingly elegant butter dish I had no idea how had gotten into the library.

Of course. They had done all this for the nest. Nesting season always made the bookwyrms’ judgment cloudy.

I understood that. And while I also understood their propensity for shiny silver items, I just wished they didn’t drag ancient cursed tomes into it… or rare pieces of embroidered velvet.

Lousia May and Hawthorne looked at me, blinking almost innocently.

The codex hissed, releasing another plume of purple smoke.

“If that thing turns you two into fire-breathing toads, I’m not reversing it,” I told them. “You know you can’t take things from the rare book room, even if for a noble purpose,” I said, eyeing their nest. “It’s not safe,” I added gently.

Lousia May chirped sweetly at me.

“Not fair turning your charm on me. I can’t let you have it, but I can find you something to replace it. And I promise I will. But nothing else from the rare books room.”

I crouched beside the nest. Hawthorne blinked at me, slow and defiant. Louisa May burrowed a little deeper, the codex clutched like a favorite toy.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my silver pocket watch.

“A trade,” I said, holding it up. “And a loan. Once your little ones are hatched, I will need that back. But it’s silver, as you can see. And no one has ever had it in their nest before.

Louisa May hesitated, eyeing it with focus, then she released the codex and snatched the pocket watch.

“Thank you,” I said, retrieving the book with great care. As I did so, I eyed the nest. It was mostly discarded notes or old papers, but I thought I saw…

“Is that a page from Zabath’s Guide to Magical Night Blooming Flowers ?” I asked.

Hawthorne trumpeted with indignation, a sure sign that it was definitely the page from the book that depicted silverbell blossoms.

I sighed then turned my attention to the codex, checking for tampering. Other than a slight scratch, it seemed to be intact, even if agitated. I stood, codex in hand. Louisa May and Hawthorne resumed rearranging their hoard.

“Library, we will need this area roped off until we have our new hatchlings.”

At once, I heard a rustle in the storage closet as the library unearthed the provisions.

New hatchlings.

That was always a nightmare.

Add that as another reason why we should not have a party at the library.

I turned away, inspecting the codex once more. “One day, I’ll have to enchant the rare books room to prohibit bookwyrms,” I called in a loud voice.

In the branches of the Woodwyrm tree overhead, the bookwyrms clicked and called in protest.

I smiled softly and headed back to the rare books room which would remain, for the moment, prohibition-free.