Page 21 of Must Love Libraries and Libations (Moonshine Hollow #2)

ERASMUS

T he sun had already set when I finally looked out the library windows to see the tents, tables, and food stations erected outside. She must have worked all day. The bones of the party were there. Even without the flowers and other trappings, everything looked…charming.

I frowned, annoyed at myself.

The library was closed, and there were signs posted everywhere warning patrons that the library would be closed for party business the next day.

I scanned the library, watching as the building reorganized the books on the shelves, brooms and dusters working, pillows fluffing, the bookwyrms clearing off the last of the stray spells.

The familiar hum of evening at the library took over once more.

The blooms on the Wyrmwood tree were beginning to glow as the sun set.

Soon, the flowers would open, and the library would truly come to life.

Normal life carried on, warm, comfortable, but admittedly, missing something.

I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds, smelling the books, feeling the library’s magic. I could leave this all behind, go to the lands of the Bright Sidhe. There was no greater honor for someone like me.

Opening my eyes, I scanned the library again.

I had always thought of the space as my home. My home. But a new reality was settling on me…it was not my home . It was my assignment . I had coveted this space because I thought it was mine , but it had never belonged to just me.

“I’ll be back soon,” I called to the bookwyrms, who chirped in reply, then I turned and headed off, making my way onto the streets of Moonshine Hollow.

With every step, I felt uncertain.

I was making the right decision.

I hoped.

It had been longer than I could recall since I’d mixed with the local people.

They hurried on their way, laughing under the colorful summer lanterns that hung above the streets.

Passersby cast curious—but not unkind—glances my way, nodding in acknowledgment.

The late summer air smelled of flowers, ripening bloomberries, and that soft scent of decay that indicated a shift of seasons was coming.

The air was still warm just after sunset, but the night temperatures had begun to cool just a little.

Still, the people of Moonshine Hollow sat outside at café tables or on their porches.

From open windows, I could hear people laughing.

Music rose from the pub nearby, along with the sounds of people singing.

When I passed the bookstore, I paused, looking up at the keystone above the door.

There, the witch’s mark, a complex knot pattern, remained.

When her grimoire was gone, the bookstore, ridiculously named Sir Hootington’s, would be the last remaining mark of her presence here.

She would become nothing more than a piece of Moonshine Hollow history, a prankster witch who sometimes took her jokes too far.

I scanned the windows, finding a pair of starry eyes looking down at me.

The owl.

I had never seen his like before, and no book I’d ever read had mentioned a species like his. He watched me with great curiosity.

I inclined my head to him, the owl greeting me in kind.

He had never done that before.

Odd.

Pushing the thought aside, I continued my path, finally coming to the gate of the herbalist named Juniper, owner of Thistle and Thyme.

The light was still on inside.

Opening the gate, I crossed the herb and flower garden, noting the fairies working amongst the blossoms, as I made my way to the door.

I ducked as I entered, a bell ringing to announce my arrival. The sound summoned the human herbalist from the back. She was wiping her hands on her apron when she appeared.

“Master Erasmus,” she said, her brow lifting in surprise. “Good evening to you.”

“And to you.”

“It has been many years since I’ve seen you here. Is everything all right with the bookwyrms?”

“Yes. We are all well. Thank you. I, however, am in need of assistance.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I need… I need flowers.”

She smiled softly at me. “Well, I can certainly help you, but perhaps Winifred at?—”

“And discretion,” I added. While the gnomish woman Winifred Bramblewood was an excellent florist, the woman lacked any form of moderation. “My request requires some level of subterfuge.”

“I see,” Juniper said softly. “Well, I have many flowers and plants. What did you have in mind?”

“Blossoms and herbs bookwyrms won’t be inclined to eat.”

She chuckled. “All right? And for what purpose?”

Gods, I was terrible at communicating with people. Words on a page were so much easier.

“I… I have a plan for the library’s celebration tomorrow. I just need…”

“Help?”

I inclined my head to her.

A moment later, the bell over the door rang once more. “Ready, Junie? I’m famished.”

I turned to find the orc Granik coming through the door. His arrival triggered a series of happy barks, and a mosspup shot from somewhere in the back toward the orc. The flash of green bypassed me entirely, running to the orc who bent to greet the dog.

“I’m sorry,” I told the herbalist. “I think you have plans.”

“I’m very happy to help…as is Granik.”

“I am? Help with what?” Granik asked.

The mosspup, having greeted the orc, paused to give me a curious sniff.

I bent, giving him a careful pat, uncertain how he might react to me.

The mossy dog, who looked more like a heap of forest floor than a creature, wagged his tail, gave me a lick, then carried on.

Juniper gave me a warm smile. “Your secret is safe with me, Master Erasmus. Now, tell me what you have in mind.”

“I would not take up your time if you have important work to do.”

“Something tells me this is more important than anything I had in mind. Now,” she said, opening a notebook. “What do we need?”

* * *

Juniper and I stood in the middle of the library, eyeing the garlands dotted with glimmering sundrop flowers and violets, the standing arrangements with sunflowers and fragrant herbs, and the table displays where the flowers and herbs enhanced the historical artifacts I had been setting about the library.

The ornamentation was simple and clean. Sunflowers, bluebells, peonies, hydrangea, and freesia were paired with mint, basil, rosemary, and dragon bloom for scent.

Burlap bunting and straw ribbons made things beautiful and bright.

To my luck, the herbalist’s orc friend had agreed to help, as long as dinner came after.

I had been very thankful he was there. Reorganizing the library had taken more than magic.

It needed muscle. With Granik’s help, we had managed to rearrange the entire room, setting out chairs and tables so patrons could more easily see the Wyrmwood tree.

As well, the spaces had been set up to display the library’s relics, which I’d begun setting in place: the first books catalogued, old paintings of early versions of the library, the magical inkwells which once graced the long tables, rare books, maps, and more.

More.

As much as I could think of.

There was nothing too much…for her.

It was all for her.

I only hoped it would be enough.

After Granik set the podium in place, we all stepped back to look.

Juniper smiled. “I’ve enchanted the herbs and flowers to hold their spring until tomorrow, just a little water spell to keep things hydrated.”

“It is perfect. I don’t know how to thank you both.”

She looked up at me. “You are already thanking me, Master Erasmus.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Primrose is a dear friend,” she told me with a knowing look. “I chose her favorite flowers,” she said, gesturing about the room. “I was right to do that, wasn’t I?”

I coughed uncomfortably, realizing that Juniper must have known something about Primrose and me. I had not realized Primrose and the herbalist were close. But, of course, I didn’t. Aside from names, I knew little about the people of the village.

“Yes. Yes, you were. And thank you. I hope she’ll like it,” I said, feeling so awkward I thought I might literally turn to stone…an effect that didn’t come upon gargoyles until our deaths.

“She will. And more, the intention behind it, if I am reading you right.”

“You are.”

“All this to impress a girl?” Granik asked with a nod. “And Primrose at that? Why didn’t you say so? Well done,” he said, clapping me hard on the back, causing a small plume of dust to rise from my jacket. “Blimey, friend. How old is that frock?”

“Well, I suppose…” I said, thinking back to when I had purchased my heavy blue brocade jacket. “If the library is eleventy-one this year, I suppose… Well, it is a few years older.”

“Dust-covered, moth-worn, and ink-stained,” Granik said, eyeing the outfit. “No offense, but if you are about all this to impress a woman, that jacket is never going to do. You’re about my size. I know how to fix this. What do you think, Junie?” he asked Juniper.

She smiled. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“Good. We’ll attend to it in the morning. You’ll come by my place,” Granik told me with a decisive nod, then narrowed his gaze. “Primrose is a very special person, you know. We all love her,” the orc told me, holding my gaze.

It did not escape my notice that the orc outsized even me, and the look that he gave me, effervescing big brother, was telling.

“I have courted her poorly up until now,” I admitted. “I will do so in the manner she deserves going forward… If she will have me. With your help, perhaps I have a chance of winning her forgiveness for my past behavior.”

Juniper smiled at Granik. “That is the perfect answer, don’t you think?”

“I do.”

Juniper gave the library one last look, her eyes drifting to the Wyrmwood tree. “I’ve forgotten how beautiful it is. I only saw it blooming once—through the door—when I came to drop off a tonic for Hemingway. Do you remember?”

“Yes. He overcame his cold quickly with your help.”

She smiled then gazed at the tree, the glow of the blossoms reflected in her eyes. “It’s truly a treasure of Moonshine Hollow, just like the bookwyrms themselves.” She set her hand on my arm. “We’ll see you tomorrow. And I wish you good luck.”

“Thank you, Juniper, Granik. I apologize, I think I spoiled your date night.”

They both laughed.

“We’re just friends,” Juniper replied.

The orc nodded in agreement, but I could have sworn I saw a flash of something cross his face.

“But we’ll leave you now. Granik’s growling stomach is becoming deafening,” she said lightly, taking the orc’s arm.

“Is not.”

“Don’t fib. It’s all right. The Surly Dragon should still be open. They have the best basil and tomato galettes.”

“And chops.”

“And chops,” Juniper agreed with a laugh, then turned to me. “Good night, Master Erasmus.”

“Good night.”

After the pair had gone, I stared at the Wyrmwood tree once more.

She was right. It was a treasure. And it was time to share.

The library was not my home. I had never realized that until I was in Primrose’s arms. I hadn’t ever really known what home felt like until I was with her.

I only hoped I wasn’t too late to make things right.