The Library of the Unwritten - A. J_ Hackwith Page 0,58

to clear his head. He needed to form a plan.

He needed information for a plan. Answers.

Uriel was in deep conversation by the time Rami found her again in the main hall.

Or, rather, the broad-shouldered creature with a pair of double axes on his hip was in deep conversation. Uriel looked distinctly unamused. Not that Uriel was in the habit of being amused ever, but she held a glare for the Viking man that she usually reserved for improperly tempered blades and disappointing reports.

“No. I am not interested. Thank you.”

“But a maiden like yourself—”

“Move. On.”

“Trouble?” Rami asked as he slid to fill the space vacated.

“Humans.” Uriel grunted the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “It defies logic that their base interest in reproduction lasts beyond death. And the entitlement to it! Arrogant, all of them.”

“Hmm, yes. The arrogance. Imagine.” Rami guided Uriel into a quiet corner. “I encountered the librarian and her people.”

Uriel raised a brow. “Demons?”

“At least one. I don’t know him from . . . before. But powerful, dangerous.”

“What did you learn?”

“They do not have possession of the artifact, but their hunt led them here, and the librarian considers it under the jurisdiction of the Library.”

Uriel waved that away too easily. “Heaven’s claim supersedes that of any other realm.”

“She also implied that there’s more to this artifact than powerful magic.” Rami said it with a dismissive air but watched Uriel’s reaction carefully. She tilted her chin but looked out over the crowd, hiding the pull of her expression.

“Is that so? How curious.”

“Is it true?”

“Acquire the artifact and we’ll know.” Her answer only seeded the doubt in his gut. Uriel turned back to him. “Their plan?”

“I gathered that they were waiting for something they needed here. She said they would be leaving tomorrow,” Rami said. “She was lying, of course.”

“Glad to see your time in the wild hasn’t made you entirely soft.” Uriel narrowed her eyes and searched for something in the crowd. “We will need to intercept them.”

“Any attempt to confront them will get us expelled from Valhalla. Or worse,” Rami said, thinking of the raven captain and her guard.

“Not if they stray someplace where Valhalla isn’t watching. First rule of demons, Ramiel: you can always rely on servants of Hell to be where they shouldn’t.”

16

CLAIRE

It’s not magic, what we librarians do. It’s the same as what our imaginations tried to do when we were alive; the realm just takes a more literal interpretation of it. The pen and paper are a librarian’s tools of office. With them, we can weave stories back together by force of will. Guide lost ink, draw a plot back to its true north.

Without ’em, we’re just exceptionally long-lived busybodies.

Then again, sometimes busybodies are the only ones to get anything done.

Librarian Fleur Michel, 1735 CE

THE FEATHERS FROTHED AND churned like a small storm cloud clinging to the Watcher. Claire kept her eyes on it until he disappeared through the swinging door. Then she allowed herself to let out a long breath.

“Well, that was bracing.” Andras drew a fingertip over his lip, amusement ill concealed. He took a neat sip of ale.

Claire, on the other hand, was too much on edge to drink, unlike the demon and the damned angel. Ramiel had been in easy conversation with the warriors when they’d found him, forcing Claire and Andras to hang back until his drinking companions had left.

He was comfortable here, Claire realized as they’d waited. Comfortable and with a stronger natural connection with this place than Claire or even Hero could hope for. If it came down to forcing Valhalla to choose a side, Bjorn’s allegiance to the Library wouldn’t be enough. Brevity’s charm wouldn’t be enough. If the angels pushed, it was only a matter of time before Valhalla’s hospitality showed cracks.

“We need to get out of here.” The conclusion brought her up out of the chair.

Andras nodded as he followed. “We should have time if they think we’re staying the night.”

“He didn’t buy it.” Claire had seen it in the angel’s eyes. All angels had keen eyes, but Ramiel seemed particularly tuned to reading mortals. At any other time, she would have found it interesting, a deviance in the angelic personality type, but right now it was a significant threat. She would need to avoid revealing too much next time they crossed paths. “We need to leave as soon as we speak to Bjorn. Before they have time to plan.”

“That necessitates that we act without a plan.” Andras was