“But I didn’t go there with Bram.”
“Hush, Ripley. We both know you would have if you hadn’t come down here and seen this.”
Felix was right. He knew me better than I knew myself. Bram was sexy as fuck, and I eventually would have given in. Until I saw him misbehave in my library. That was an instant turn off. I officially wasn’t fucking Bram for good this time.
“Why do you think they are both interested in primordial gods?”
“I think Bram is interested because Dorian is. Dorian’s payment to the demon has to be coming due soon. He may have gotten a witch to do all the work for him, but I doubt she agreed to pay the price.”
I started smoothing out all the dog ears and putting bookmarks on the pages.
“It would get Dorian out of the library, but I really don’t want a Hellhound collecting payment for a demon here. It’ll be noisy and make a mess.”
“You’re a ruthless bitch who is super anal about your librarian duties.”
“You know how hard I worked to get this job. My parents are so proud I ended up here, and Ravyn ended up at the Museum. If we were triplets and one of us ended up teaching at the Academy, we’d be dominating the Profane world.”
“You’re also not the humblest person on the planet.”
“Hey! Ravyn and I were tied at graduating from the top of our class at the Academy of the Profane and look at where we are working now. We’ve earned some bragging rights.”
“Go to bed, Ripley. We aren’t going to figure this out tonight. Give me more time to watch them. Maybe Bram has already taken care of Dorian, and they will both be out of your hair tomorrow.”
No. Bram couldn’t do anything to Dorian without his painting. And he hadn’t tried to ask me to look at it yet. Children weren’t allowed in the Library of the Profane for a reason. I did not need some fucked up adult games going on here.
Chapter 4
Ripley
D
orian and Bram disappeared from my library after that night. I didn’t know if Bram got his payment without Dorian’s painting, but I wasn’t questioning it. I highly doubted Dorian was gone. I went into the vault his painting was in, and there he was. All the ugliness of the years he had lived were still there in the paint. I only knew the basics of the deal he made, and they fictionalized most of the book about him, but I knew if Bram were here for Dorian, he would have destroyed the painting.
I was starting to think it was just a crazy conspiracy theory that Bram was here for Dorian. Dorian was a hedonist. He probably had it in his head he wanted to look at gods and got bored. For all I knew, he was in another country, partying it up. I didn’t take Bram for a Dorian Gray fanboy, but I also didn’t know the first thing about Hellhounds.
My life went back to normal. My library went back to its regularly scheduled program. I helped a vampire clan look up laws to settle a territorial dispute that involved digging up some ancient maps. Some werewolves came in looking for a cure to aconite poisoning. That was common, and I knew where the books for that were.
I approved and denied several new members. My regulars came in like they always did. It had been several months, and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Dorian or Bram. Honestly, I was a little grateful.
If Dorian had tried to dog-ear the pages of one of the sentient books, it would have bled everywhere. I put them out of my mind.
A new face came in. She was very timid and seemed afraid of me. Honestly, no one would hurt her if she didn’t get approved for a library card. I never assumed someone didn’t have one when speaking to them. Sometimes, people had one and didn’t visit often; or they had one and lived in another country.
“What can I help you with?”
She leaned in like she didn’t want anyone to hear.
“I need help with some necromancy.”
I pointed to my bowl.
“You know the drill.”
She pricked her finger, and the blue text floated up.
Hettie Quinn, a hedge witch. She had full access to the witch section and approval for my help with spells. She was going to need it because necromancy required potent magic. There was nothing in her file saying she couldn’t raise the dead.
“Do you have the body?”
I loathed doing necromancy. Corpses stunk, depending on how fresh they were. Some in the supernatural community didn’t believe in embalming their dead, and it utterly reeked when they wanted to raise them.
“It’s in my truck.”
This bitch right here was just driving around with a dead body in her truck. She did realize we lived among humans, right? Human cops would throw your ass in jail so fast if you got caught with a corpse. I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers.
“Get it in here before you end up in jail. You do have someone to bring it inside, don’t you?”
Hettie squeaked and nodded.
“Bring it to the atrium. That’s where spells are performed. I’ll get everything set up.”
She scurried away like a little mouse. What was this hedge witch doing performing necromancy? She was just so meek. I already knew I’d be doing all the work and channeling her. Still, who was I to judge? Maybe she’d just lost her lover.
I grabbed the bowl, black onyx, and athame from the cabinet. I tried not to roll my eyes when Hettie and her friends tried to wheel the box in. It was all tiny hedge witches trying to manage a massive wooden box. I sighed. My back was going to hurt tomorrow. I helped them wheel it to the center of the room.
“Okay, if you don’t have a library card, get the fuck out of my library.”
All five witches grumbled and left. It was just Hettie and me. I pried the lid off the box and prepared myself for the stench. This wasn’t a fresh corpse. This was a mummified dead body wrapped in gray rags. I’d been a massive fan of those Mummy movies with Brendan Fraser. Technically, Hettie was clear to raise the dead, but I wasn’t dumb enough to help her without asking questions.
“Who is this?” I demanded, pointing at the mummy.
“Seth.”
We were about to raise the dead. This was not the time to answer my questions in monosyllabic grunts. I’d boot her ass out of here so fast and have this mummy transferred to Ravyn at the Museum of the Profane so fast.
“Seth, who? Where did you get this body?”
Hettie was nervous. There were beads of sweat forming on her upper lip, even though the library was always cold. The atrium was even colder because it was all stone with no windows. This didn’t bode well for me helping her raise this corpse.
“He’s one of my ancestors!” she squeaked.
“Then why are you so nervous, Hettie?”
“I got my library card a few years ago, but I’ve never really used it. I’m a hedge witch, so I don’t do necromancy. I know I’m asking for a lot, but I really need your help. Your kind likes to look down on us hedge witches.”
Was that it? It certainly could be. Other witches and warlocks like me looked down on the hedge witches sometimes, but honestly? I’d seen more hedge witches approved for library cards than witches like me because they didn’t intend to abuse the contents. They just wanted to learn. It was odd that Hettie hadn’t been back to the library, but I knew from experience many of the hedge witches were sweet and harmless.