Page 14 of Must Love Libraries and Libations (Moonshine Hollow #2)

ERASMUS

T he following morning, I searched every corner of the library for the witch’s spell, but it was nowhere to be seen. I had hoped the bookwyrms would have found it in their evening cleanup of stray magic, but they had not discovered it either.

I could sense the magic roaming in the ancient stacks below the library.

Stevenson and Merlin had come with me to the basement to hunt down the loose hex.

Stevenson came mostly out of curiosity, but Merlin, the obsidian-colored bookwyrm, had a good nose for gray magic.

Like me, he could sense the spell lingering in the forgotten section of the library amongst the old town records, maps, and tomes.

The musty smell of old books, crumbling paper, and earth usually comforted me, but today, I was unsettled.

And not just because of the spell.

She kept drifting through my mind. Vexing but intriguing woman, I could not shake Miss Windsong no matter what I did.

I was about to move on to the rare books room when I heard Izelda on the stairwell. “I believe he’s down there in the old records.”

“Perfect, I have him cornered,” a bubbly voice replied with a bright laugh.

At that, Stevenson perked up, and I winced.

Everything about this was getting harder. Why wouldn’t she just go away?

Stevenson scrambled away from me in Miss Windsong’s direction, while Merlin… Merlin perked up as if he’d sensed something.

“What is it?”

Merlin’s eyes peered into one of the dark corners of the library, his ears turning to listen, just as Miss Windsong appeared.

“Ah, here you are,” she said with a broad smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been down here before.

This is the perfect place to look for items for the display,” she said, looking around.

“Is that a tapestry of the village? There are only five buildings. That would be a wonderful addition to the birthday display inside the library.”

The sweet scent of baked goods and freesia clung to her very essence, as if she soothed and comforted everyone who came within her sunny radiance. My stomach clenched. I wanted to pull her into my arms again, taste those sweet lips, and feel that soft, warm body against me.

“Erasmus?” she asked, tilting her head.

Not Master Erasmus. Just…Erasmus.

She was getting familiar.

Not now.

Not with the spell so close by.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked, my voice sounding harder than I intended. In an effort to choke back my embarrassment over my lusty thoughts, I swung too hard in the other direction.

She gave me a disappointed frown. “Looking for you.”

At that moment, Stevenson lifted the lid on her picnic basket and looked inside, trilling in excitement over whatever he’d found there.

Merlin, however, clicked low and warningly and headed off in another direction.

“This isn’t a good time,” I told her. “You need to go.”

“But this handsome gentleman needs a muffin,” she said, bending down and removing a sweet-smelling blueberry muffin from a box and handing it to Stevenson.

“Muffins are bad for bookwyrms.”

The look Stevenson gave me could have frozen water, and for a brief moment, his muzzle opened and I saw a flicker of incandescent blue bookwyrm fire.

“Oh, one won’t hurt,” Miss Windsong replied, patting Stevenson on the head before handing him a muffin. The bookwyrm rewarded her with a nuzzle under the chin, then turned, glared at me once more, and headed off with his prize.

“You were supposed to be helping me,” I called to the boookwyrm, who answered me by blowing a loud raspberry.

Miss Windsong chuckled. “Now, why don’t you show me around? That’s the rare books room, isn’t it? I bet you have perfect items in there for display.”

Not far from us, Merlin growled low.

“Miss Windsong, this really isn’t the time. I know you think I’m just being?—”

Merlin let out a low bark, calling me.

Frowning, I turned from her and hurried to the bookwyrm. He was seated in the corner of the stacks, tail twitching. A moment later, I saw why. Bright pink light peeked up from behind the books.

“Oh, no,” I gasped, then began to pivot quickly, casting a spell just as Merlin also made his move.

But the enchantment was too fast, bolting past us and casting fake duplicates of itself in the process to throw us off.

“Go that way,” I told Merlin. “I’ll go here,” I said, gesturing.

“Miss Windsong, there is a spell loose. You must go back upstairs until we contain it. It’s not safe. ”

I hurried after a ball of pink light, but it dissipated into the maps room. Dammit. I had followed a decoy.

On the other side of the basement, I heard Merlin let out a frustrated bark.

“Right. Okay. Let me get out of the way,” Miss Windsong called. “I’ll just… I’ll wait in the wine cellar. I didn’t know you had a wine cellar,” she called happily. “Ooh, look at these!”

“Miss Windsong,” I called in alarm, rushing toward the sound of her voice.

There, on what used to be a blank stone wall, was an arched wooden door.

“Don’t go in there!” I called. “Miss Windsong! Miss Windsong, don’t go in there.”

“Just a peek, Erasmus. It won’t hurt anything.”

“Miss Windsong,” I called, trying to stop her. “Stop!”

But she stepped through.

The moment she did, the doorway glimmered with pink light.

Merlin barked in alarm.

No! She would be trapped.

Without thinking, I rushed forward to grab her and pull her to safety, but the second I stepped through the door, the spell collapsed around me. The door slammed shut behind me. On the other side, Merlin barked in alarm, calling the other bookwyrms to help.

The room shimmered pink in the light of the spell.

I turned to Miss Windsong, whose expression had shifted from playful mirth to fear.

“Erasmus,” she whispered.

“We don’t have a wine cellar,” I told her. “And now, we’re trapped.”

* * *

We stood in the near dark, the pink light fading with a mischievous giggle.

I pressed my palm to the heavy oak door and muttered an incantation, feeling the fizz of resistance crawl up my arm like a swarm of stinging bees.

My magic was for books, for keeping spells in place, for diffusing things on the page.

I could protect the library from mold, foxing, and spellbooks, but this…

this was a rogue spell cast hundreds of years ago by a gray witch who loved chaos. My spell faded into nothing.

The door was still sealed.

I exhaled slowly. The stone walls around us were laced with chill, the scents of damp earth and aged wine thick in the air. Faintly, I could hear the trickle of condensation dripping into a stone drain somewhere in the darkness.

Behind me, Miss Windsong’s footsteps were featherlight on the flagstones as she searched the rest of the room. “I suppose it goes without saying, there are no other exits. And I see no obvious weaknesses in the spell.”

“Be careful. It’s dark back there.”

“Half-elf. I can see well enough in the dark. So, how did this happen?”

“I told you there were things in this library that could not be disturbed. The Moonshine Hollow Library holds the grimoire of Witch Eyreaway. I have all of her spellbooks neutralized but one. And for the first time ever, one of her spells has escaped. We are now in its clutches until we discover what she wants. Mischief and misdirection were her specialties. The door will open if we figure out her puzzle. It probably responds to something absurd like good cheer or romantic tension.”

Miss Windsong chuckled, then gave me a knowing look. “Good thing the two of us don’t excel in either of those areas.”

Despite myself, I huffed a laugh, and something loosened in my chest.

Miss Windsong lifted a hand and murmured something too soft to hear. A warm violet glow unfurled from her fingertips like silk ribbon. It wove around the wine bottles, igniting a light inside of them. Soon, the whole room glowed with a soft, deep purplish-red shimmer.

It was beautiful.

“Just a little wine spell,” she said as if it was nothing. “The grapes are sharing their magic. And the color suits the room.”

It was the second time I had seen her work her gentle magic. The effect of it, much like on the nest, was stunningly beautiful. I watched as she stepped between the racks of wine with easy grace, her fingertips skimming over the dusty bottles.

“So, the witch gave us wine… You suppose she wants us to drink?” Miss Windsong asked, pulling out a bottle.

“Moonshine Hollow Vineyards, circa… Oh my gosh! Erasmus, there are only five bottles of this wine left in the village. This bottle alone could pay for my cottage. Do you suppose this place was hers, somehow? Maybe she kept her wine stashed off in a pocket world and just summoned a door when she wanted a drink?”

“That’s quite possible.”

Miss Windsong slipped the bottle back and kept looking. “There are several Bright Sidhe bottles here. These bottles are priceless. Why would she have so many wines from Bright Sidhe lands?”

“Apparently, she spent many years in Golden Spires. No one knows what happened for sure, but the Bright Sidhe sent someone to collect her. There was a magical duel. Neither the witch nor the Bright Sidhe who came to arrest her was ever seen again. Only her small home and the grimoire remained. I was sent here to collect and neutralize the grimoire.”

“I’ve never heard this story before.”

“It is an old tale,” I said, then paused. “All my tales are old,” I added, my voice revealing more emotion than I had intended.

Miss Windsong looked at me. “There is nothing wrong with old tales,” she said with a soft smile. “Old tales like old silver often have the best sparkle…with a little polish.”

I chuckled lightly. “You always want sparkle.”

“Not want, see . I always see sparkle, even when others can’t,” she said, smiling softly at me. “So, white or red?” she asked, lifting two bottles.

“I…”

“Well, we’re going to have to think our way out of this one. Let’s get into the witch’s mindset. Plus, I have cheese, fruit, and muffins. And I always carry a wine screw and cups. It’s almost like the witch and I planned this party together.” She laughed. “So, white or red?”

“Red.”

“Red, it is. And Witch Eyreaway, whatever it is you want from Erasmus and me, you better start talking because I have a business to run. I have no time to wait around in a wine cellar all day. So, woman to woman, let’s get on with it.”

To both of our surprise, from the back of the wine cellar, soft music started to play.

At that, Miss Windsong laughed, and something low and light fluttered in my belly.

She poured two goblets and then handed one to me.

“To the Moonshine Hollow Library,” she said.

I nodded. “To the library,” I replied, then took a sip, my gaze on Miss Windsong.

She returned the look, her hazel eyes sparkling, and my mind began to think of a new story.