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11

Mor

I thought for sure that I was alone in the library.

“Hello?” I call out.

No answer.

Ame and Jack should both be at work.

Niko moved out a few weeks ago in order to live above the restaurant that he will be opening in town.

And the last time the little tinkling bell above the door rang was twenty minutes ago, when the town’s healing witch left with a new spell for soothing bug bites.

But I swear I hear movement.

I dismiss the possibility that the rustling is Lucky, my sister’s black cat familiar.

Lucky always goes to the vet office with Ame.

The feline helps the anxious animals calm down when my sister has her hands full.

My brothers’ familiars also don’t tend to come by the library without them.

The house should be empty.

Then what the fuck am I hearing?

I carefully climb down from the stepladder I just scaled and hold out the Swiffer Duster I was using to clean the top shelf, as if the fluffy device could double as a weapon.

My nerves have been on edge all day, half my mind always on Bo.

Wondering where he ended up.

If he’s left town. If he’s hungry without any money.

If he’s cold and uncomfortable, holing up in that rotting trailer.

Worry is an unwanted companion I can’t get rid of.

Maybe that’s why I’m having an over-the-top reaction about this mysterious sound.

I try to move as quietly as possible from one room to the next.

Tree wallpaper shifts to sage-colored paint as I shuffle into the sitting room.

As I get closer, I hear more noises.

Scuffling. Rustling.

And was that a chitter?

“Hello?” I try the greeting again, doing my best to keep the snap of accusation from my voice.

I don’t know why I am so suspicious.

Maybe it’s the stress of the last few days.

Releasing a monster trapped in a statue on my land.

And there’s the fact that earlier this year, everyone who was asleep in this house was put under a spell to keep us that way while a rogue mythic attempted to steal a hidden item in the house.

For that encounter, I was very grateful for the leftover dragon hoard magic.

I know it was traumatic for Bo to have been cursed and probably now sees the enchantment as inherently evil.

But Hamish, the selkie who broke into the library, lashed out when he was discovered and almost killed my brother Anthony.

When the house captured Hamish, we were able to escape whatever nefarious plan he’d had.

The witches handled his punishment.

I just hope I never have to see the shifter again.

But now we’re back to this mysterious noise.

To someone in this library that I have not accounted for.

Someone who has not answered my gentle greetings.

The Swiffer quivers in my hand, and I remember, Oh yeah, I am a witch .

I haven’t been studying any kind of self-defense or battle spells.

Which seems like an oversight at this point.

I make a mental note to research the topic later.

I’m sure Ame would like to learn them.

Jack would approve.

Letting my mental shields lower carefully, I search out any hint of an emotional grid in the house.

I come up empty. But I’m tired and distracted, so a power boost might be all I need.

I finger the silver locket hanging around my neck.

Inside, instead of a picture, there is tightly packed red powder.

To anyone else, it may look like I have a small case of blush around my neck.

But this does a hell of a lot more than bring color to your cheeks.

Witches have some natural abilities.

Magic that we can utilize without assistance.

I can pick up someone’s emotional grid in a big sense.

But to do anything impactful, we need potions and rituals and spells.

Like those contained in all these books.

And sometimes, we can do these beforehand, and not all potions are liquid.

This red powder is a family heirloom of sorts.

A recipe passed down through multiple generations of Shellys.

It is concocted to amplify our emotion magic.

I take a dab on my middle finger and quickly close my eyes to brush the powder across my lids.

Magical eye shadow.

When I blink my eyes open, I can now spy a subtle glow of my own skin.

An emotional grid that I have trouble reading from the inside out.

But now, I’m aware it’s there.

And I can see there is one other grid in this house.

It’s a simplistic one.

Something I might expect to see from a child.

Did someone leave their kid in my library?

Oh Gods, I am not good with children.

Still, I lower the Swiffer and soften my voice.

“Hi there. Can you come out, please?”

I aim toward the next room, where the glow is now visible, even through the walls.

I step around the corner and navigate down another row of shelves, only to realize it is not a child in my library.

Nor is it an adult. And it’s not even a terrifying villain.

No, the intruder in my library, who is currently sliding a book off the shelf, is a raccoon.

There’s a raccoon in my library.

“Fucking Gods!” I scream.

The rodent whips its head toward me, the thing’s mask-patterned face staring straight at mine, black eyes sparkling with mischief.

The creature lets out a loud string of chatters, and then it waddles away.

Fluffy, big ass pointed in my direction, strutting off like it couldn’t give a fuck.

Meanwhile, I give a hell of a lot of fucks.

“Oh my Gods,” I whisper-scream.

“What in all the hell dimensions?”

I don’t know what to do about vermin in my house.

Why is Ame not here right now?

Animals are her thing.

This town doesn’t even have an animal control; they just call the veterinary office.

That’s what I need to do.

I will call Zara.

Thank the Gods I have animal people in the family who know what to do about the fact that there is a wild rodent in my home.

In my business. Touching my books.

A forest creature touched my books.

“Where’s that hoard protection magic now, huh?” I hiss the words into the air, as if the house might be listening.

There’s no response as I frantically search for my phone in all my pockets while cautiously following after the raccoon.

But I also try to keep distance from it because I don’t want the animal to end up being rabid and in a biting mood.

Not going to happen.

Only, when I turn at the end of the shelf, I don’t see the raccoon.

What I do see is an open window.

With the screen popped out.

Can raccoons do that?

I don’t know why I’m asking.

Obviously, they can because it did.

I hurry over and slam the window shut.

Then I press my shoulders back against the wall and try to catch my breath.

Only when I am not gasping, as if I’d just swum the entire length of Lake Galen, do I make a call to the town vet.

Of course, my sister answers the phone.

“Thank you for calling Folk Tails. This is Ame speaking. How can I help you?”

“There was a raccoon in the library.” I’m yelling, and I can’t stop.

“It broke in. How do I keep raccoons from breaking into my library?”

“Mor?”

“Yes, Ame, this is your sister. There are no other libraries in town. Do you think that Toccoa’s library is calling you all to figure out how to handle raccoons?”

“You just surprised me is all,” she says, her voice staying calm, unruffled by my outburst. “You’re not normally a yeller.”

She’s right, and I drag in a deep breath through my nose to calm myself.

“Sorry. Yes, it’s me. Back to this raccoon problem.”

“Raccoons are smart. You need to use locks. And latches.”

“I do,” I huff.

“It opened a window. From the outside.”

“Oh.” Now her voice changes, but she sounds delighted rather than horrified.

“Fascinating. I’ll take a look when I get home.”

Ame does not sound at all as anxious as I am about this.

But I bet that Jack will be on my side.

When I present this as a failing in our security system, that is.

But then I immediately scratch that approach because Jack will probably go so far as to suggest that we install bars on the windows to keep all bad characters away from his precious mate.

Sometimes, werewolves can go a little overboard.

“Okay, yes. Please help me brainstorm how to raccoon-proof our house. I can’t have them coming in here. They’ll damage the books.”

“Well, maybe you should look for a raccoon repellent spell. You’re welcome. I just gave you a new research topic. It’s your favorite thing to do.”

Damn her.

She’s right. There is probably a particular repellent enchantment that would work perfectly at keeping all forest creatures away from my library.

I have a lot of other projects that should come first, but this has reached priority level one.

Plus, it should thoroughly distract me from worrying about a certain monster.

“Fine. I’ll research. Because you’re making me.”

I hang up to the sound of her soft chuckle.

And then I go to reset the books that the raccoon decided to take off the shelf for me.