A Study in Spirits Page 18

  Titivillus was pacing now, muttering all sorts of foul words under its breath. Logan ignored it and continued.

  “Next, I met it as Aristarchus, a Greek scholar. Aristarchus determined which versions of the Iliad and the Odyssey would be kept in the library of Alexandria. But Aristarchus was human. He died sometime around 150 B.C. It cannot claim this identity as proof of being welcomed to Bewachterberg.”

  The eye grew larger as it came closer. Under its examination, the creature’s blustering shrank somewhat.

  “Agreed. It cannot be Aristarchus. Proceed with your argument, bard.”

  Logan walked over to the librarian to stand with her, shoulder to shoulder. Burkhalter was pale, a bead of sweat over her forehead, her mouth compressed into a thin line. They exchanged glances. She gave him a curt nod to continue.

  “It now wears the guise of Titivillus — a demon that monks believed caused mistakes during the medieval period. But that is a fantasy creature. It was an excuse the monks used to explain away their errors. It never really existed.”

  Logan let his voice grow harder, brought more power to his words. The griffins might not be influenced by him speaking truth, but inside him, he felt the rightness of using his talent. “Examine it. Make it reveal what it is.”

  “The bard has a point. Concealment lends itself to deception.”

  At its words, the griffin stripped Titivillus of its mask.

  Logan gagged, trying not to vomit. However, the griffin’s eye overseeing them all did not seem discomposed by the appearance of such a horrible creature. It hadn’t even blinked.

  Expecting the height of Titivillus, it took Logan a moment before looking down to where it lay on the ground. The creature had a segmented body about ten feet long, and an exoskeleton of shiny silver. Two filament feelers projected from either side of its head — two more filaments were at opposite sides of its v-shaped tail. It had six short legs.

  It looked vaguely familiar.

  “Silverfish,” Burkhalter identified it with an angry mutter. “I should have known. I should have suspected. It loved the books overly much. Parasite.”

  “Do they smell like that?”

  “No, of course not.” The librarian gave herself a shake, breaking her fixated state upon the repellent creature that had replaced Titivillus. “This monster isn’t from earth. It isn’t some insect that crawls around licking up book paste. It’s just my mind classifying the bizarre into what we can understand.”

  Burkhalter raised her bloodied hand as if she was in class, trying to catch the attention of the teacher.

  “This proves it,” she told the griffin. “This thing was never invited into Bewachterberg, and certainly not into a library. We abhor their kind. It’s nothing but a destructive pest.”

  “Are you stating your closing arguments, librarian?”

  “Not until it has a chance to defend itself,” assured Burkhalter.

  But the creature wasn’t interested in talking further. Perhaps, it sensed it was losing for it launched a quick offense.

  Lightening-fast with a fish-like wiggle, it struck at Burkhalter, its hated enemy. Hitting the librarian with its body, Burkhalter was slammed onto her back.

  It climbed on top of her with astonishing speed. Instinctively, she blocked it’s biting mandibles with her arm. Its gaping mouth swallowed her arm up to her wrist. Instead of trying to pull back, Burkhalter shoved her arm in further, until the creature’s snout was up to her shoulder.

  Inside its body, her hand wielded the blade. She sawed at the monster’s vital organs with determined ferocity. It squealed in a high pitch whine but did not loosen its grip.

  Logan grabbed the tail, trying to drag it off backward. He tried to dig his hands into its segmented plates, but his fingers kept slipping off the flat plating.

  “Do something!” Logan shouted at the sky. But his request received no reply.

  The monster’s mandibles were dangerously close to Burkhalter’s face; the sawtooth edges sliced her neck and shoulder, trying to gain access to her jugular. One mandible slashed her cheekbone, opening up a four-inch gash.

  Burkhalter snarled. With her other hand, she took the heel of her stiletto and started pounded it into the eye cluster located on the side of its head. The eyeballs burst, soaking her fingers with ichor.

  Remembering how Granite had fought the monster in his apartment last year, Logan took off his jacket. He threw it over the mandible aiming for Burkhalter’s face. He used the sleeves to wrap it tightly. With his foot braced against its body, he pulled back as hard as he could.

  With a crack, the exoskeleton snapped. With the tension released, Logan fell back, landing on his butt, holding a mandible. He threw it away.

  Grabbing his jacket, he raced to the other side, about to go after the other mandible. But it wasn’t necessary. The creature laid still. Body fluids dripped all over the black stone floor, making it glossy.

  “Hm, so it looks like we’re done here?” said the griffin.

  Epilogue

  Anna Burkhalter woke up in the hospital. When she opened her eyes, someone in the room said in French, “Your bravery is to be commended, Frau Burkhalter.”

  She blinked rapidly, trying to bring everything into focus. It was the chancellor, in his usual couture splendor, standing by her bed. She couldn’t move her right arm, and her left had an IV stuck in it.

  “While Leopold Otto has some of the best health benefits in the nation, I’ve sent my personal fae healer to look after you. And my plastic surgeon. All will be taken care of. You can claim the mark on your cheek as a dueling scar. Which, in a way, it is.”

  Anna raised the fingers of her left hand feebly, whispering, “Library? My staff?”

  “All safe and sound, due to your valiant efforts,” the chancellor replied. “Using the dryad to keep the collection safe while you dealt with that creature from Outside was genius.”

  She tried to deny responsibility, but her lips were too dry and her throat too sore to make her protest audible.

  “I’ve convinced Schubert to award you with a bonus and hazard pay for dealing with that pest. Plenty of sick leave, so don’t rush out of here. Anything you want, ask my assistant, Paul, here. Since he couldn’t take care of this thing himself, I’ve assigned him to you.”

  Picking up his walking cane leaning against the wall, the chancellor told them, “Now, children, I must run as I have other matters to attend to.”

  Anna closed her eyes, feeling tired. She heard the click-clack of Bandemer’s heels as he left.

  “Would you like a sip of water?”

  Her eyes fluttered open again to see Bandemer’s assistant. She must be experiencing double-vision from the fight; he was out-of-focus and hazy.

  “Yes, please.”

  Using the button on her control, he raised her bed. He held a cup out to her. She took the straw in her mouth and sipped. That was much better.

  “What happened?”

  “On our end? Sometime after you asked the griffins for justice, the abbey library disappeared.”

  She struggled as if to rise, and he restrained her with a hand.

  “As the chancellor said, all is fine. The building returned, along with everyone inside. You were found unconscious in the vault with Logan Dannon. Brigit Cullen and her púca companion were found on the front lawn.”

  “The girl — she took the collection inside of her —.”

  “A phenomenon I’ve never seen before with dryads. Usually, they enter into other things. Yet, somehow Cullen has learned a method to work her powers in reverse. An interesting development of her magic.”

  Paul set the cup aside on the tray table. Burkhalter gave a worried frown.

  “Do not fear. She’s returned everything. Your staff is double-checking.”

  Anna closed her eyes again to stop the room from spinning.

  “What’s the damage?”

  “To yourself or the library?”

  “I guess both.” She gave a water
y chuckle.

  “To the library — the collection in the vaults is safe due to Brigit Cullen. We owe her a considerable Debt there, which the chancellor will reward. To the entirety of the library’s books, significant damage. However, I have a tech person I trust looking into how we can recover at least the computer files. If anyone can do it, I am sure she can.”

  “That’s good.”

  “The doctors have you on antibiotics and painkillers. You didn’t break anything, but you have several deep lacerations, and who knows what filth was in that creature’s mouth. Your right arm has a rotator cuff injury. They’ve immobilized it. That’s why you can’t move it right now.”

  “You don’t candy coat things, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought a woman who used the heel of her shoe to kill a monster would want facts sugar coated.”

  “Perhaps not,” Anna mumbled as she started falling asleep, “but sometimes it’s nice not to know.”

  Logan and Brigit were sitting in chairs, side by side, in the chancellor’s outer office. As Logan bent over, pretending to tie his shoe, he asked her in a low voice, “Any idea why we were summoned?”

  “Plenty of guesses. All of them bad.”

  Brigit sat with her arms crossed, her legs straight out in front of her with their ankles crossed. She was trying a tough girl act. Logan wasn’t buying it. He knew she was just as worried as he was about this summons to the chancellor’s office weeks after the event in the library.

  After all they did would they be expelled? He began mentally scripting excuses he’d give his parents if the worst happened.

  The secretary sat behind the desk like an owl. Under her blank stare, Logan squirmed.

  The door to the chancellor’s office suddenly opened.

  “Yes, that all sounds very well. I agree. You are in charge of his training. Remember, though, he is first and foremost a student here at Leopold Otto and thus under my jurisdiction.”

  Chancellor Bandemer was speaking to Logan’s maestro, Kados Géza. Neither of them took any notice of the two students sitting nearby.

  When Géza walked by them, he did not acknowledge Logan. Logan didn’t have enough time to worry about it as the chancellor’s hand waved them to follow him into his office.

  Behind his back, Logan gave Brigit an encouraging smile. She returned it with a choking gesture of two hands at her throat.

  “Take a seat,” said the chancellor.

  His jocular mood would have made Logan relax except Bandemer was fae. Like his bondmates, Bandemer appeared human, but Logan had plenty of experience to know that didn’t mean he had a human moral compass.

  He knew the fae could laugh while they shot an arrow through your heart.

  The chancellor took a seat, elbows on the desktop as his long pale fingers tapped together. His ring flashed green fire.

  “How are you both doing in your studies?”

  “Fine.” “No problem.”

  Brigit and Logan responded quickly and at the same time.

  “Good. Good.” Bandemer beamed at them both in a way that made Logan wish Jib was with them. However, the púca was busy at the library, helping Em and Obake with some errand Brigit had set them upon.

  Over the next half hour, the chancellor made small talk that didn’t require their contribution. If he noticed their nervousness, he didn’t relieve it by coming to the point. Instead, his discourse seemed to be reminiscences about his years at Leopold Otto.

  “Of course, when I arrived, the entire campus was in disarray at the disappearance of the former chancellor, Lady Phillipa. Things had come to such a pass that a cockatrice was nesting in the clock tower. I dealt with it first.”

  At his last statement, one forefinger tapped the corner of his eye before he continued.

  “Under the first chancellor’s mandate, any fae could attend Leopold Otto without payment. It was an effort to turn the fae from their path of chaos. I thought at the time Lady Philippa’s campaign was a silly affection. Why would the fae attend as a student when they could have the pleasure of terrorizing Geheimetür?”

  Bandemer turned his unnaturally light-blue eyes to his audience. Logan tried not to shrink back into his chair.

  “However, in the end I was proved wrong, and Lady Philippa wise. When the king signed the Treaty of Sigismund, it bound him to nine fae queens so Bewachterberg could be concealed during a time of strife. When their children, half-blooded offspring, grew to adulthood they came to Leopold Otto to learn. Their royal presence here resulted in a fad in the early 1900s for fae courts to send their highest ranking fae to Leopold Otto. Those were the days.”

  Bandemer sighed as if regretting past glories.

  “Still, that was manageable. Citizens of Bewachterberg understand the fae and how to deal with us. But in 1989, as we regained our role in international affairs, our enrollment changed, bringing in others not so wise.”

  Bandemer stood up, adjusting the lace at his cuffs. His movements around the room reminded Logan of an actor who had played a role too long.

  “I find myself so busy with the affairs of running my office, meeting people, convincing them to open their coffers, arranging ceremonies, so small matters have slipped my notice.”

  “Like a parasite in the library?” Brigit said sarcastically. Bandemer appeared to take no notice of her tart tone and beamed at her with an angelic smile.

  “Exactly. And that, my dear children, is where you two will assist me.”

  Logan didn’t think this sounded good.

  “As the grandson of the Morrighan,” his hand came down on the back of Logan’s chair, “and the daughter of Queen Elixia,” another hand on Brigit’s chair, “you will head up a new mediation group under Student Affairs. Meet with human and fae who have grievances against each other. Sort it all out for me. Prevent small problems from becoming big ones.”

  “Is there a salary with this position?” asked the ever-practical Brigit.

  “I’ve arranged for a one hour course credit.”

  It felt strange to be in the library during the daylight hours. And to have official permission to be there.

  Emma was sitting at a back table with Jib. Obake was in its flying squirrel form and sitting on her shoulder. They were waiting for a ghost to appear when, suddenly, Obake asked the cat, “Why are you called Jib? It does not identify what you are.”

  “It’s my name. My personal name.”

  The tsukumogami was silent for a moment contemplating the cat’s response.

  “I am Obake, but that is what I am, a class of yōkai. I do not understand why you are not called Púca.”

  Em tried to explain. “Jib’s name is like mine, Emma. I’m a human, but I’m not called Human.”

  “Your parents gave you that name. Did your parents name you Jib?”

  The cat started taking a bath showing it would not answer. To forestall an argument, Emma said hurriedly, “I’ve never met a ghost before. I didn’t think they came out in the daylight?”

  “That’s a common human misconception,” said Jib, between grooming licks. “Humans find it easier in the dark to access their primal mind states. It is in the dark when their third eye opens more easily.”

  “I still don’t think I would see a ghost. I’m far too logical thinking. Oh.” Emma’s last word was in response to the shifting wispy form of a woman in a dress of a hundred years ago, which had appeared by their table.

  “I guess I can see ghosts.”

  “I’m assisting you,” the tsukumogami assured her, wanting its role in the matter to be clear.

  “Uh. Hello.” When the ghost still didn’t respond to Emma’s greeting, the girl added, “Brigit Cullen, a fae dryad, told me about you. She thought I could help you.”

  The woman’s eyebrows raised in a skeptical attitude. She had a cynical face even in repose. “Help me? I doubt you could do anything for someone dead.”

  Emma struggled onward. Brigit warned her there might be resistance (she called it snobber
y) to their idea.

  “Brigit said you can exist past your death because you have a physical tie to the human world. That the ghosts in the library live because their published work is here.”

  The ghost swayed as if a breeze moved her dress skirts. She touched a hand to pull back a lock of insubstantial hair from her forehead as she agreed loftily, “Our works bind us.”

  Emma played her winning card. Out of her computer bag, she pulled out the treatise on Atlantis the ghost had written.

  “I read this and thought it was fascinating fic—” Emma stopped and corrected herself, “fascinating.”

  The ghost gave a breathy sigh holding a bit of despair. “I guess I should be pleased someone read it in the last 80 years.”

  “What do you know about video games?”

  “I’ve seen some of the students in the library play them on their computers. I’ve paid them no real mind.”

  “The best video games have a created world. A made-up place that is specific to their game. The more unique, with a real back story, the better. This is what makes a game stand out from their competition.”

  The ghost mocked Em with one word: “Fascinating.”

  Before she could drift away, Emma said hastily, “I think your treatise on Atlantis could become a video game.”

  The ghost floated upwards so it would have more height to look down her nose at the girl.

  “This should please me how?”

  “Because your work would be seen and used, by hundreds, maybe thousands of people. Imagine the strength of that belief in your work. People reading your words, living your world, every day.”

  The mouth of the ghost rounded in surprise, making Em smile. The girl opened up her laptop, turning the screen so the ghost could see the display.

  “That’s just the beginning of being glorified. Let me explain fandom to you.”

  A Study in Spirits is the second book in the College Fae series. Never Date a Siren, the first book, is now available at your favorite eBook retailer, for FREE!