is a dangerous magical book hidden in our library,” Mr. Quinn said, beaming as if announcing a special treat. “The nature of its magic is unclear, as is its location. Has anyone noticed any of the books behaving in an unusual manner recently?”
One of the younger men raised his hand. “The Confession of Ovid Gilman spoke to me while I was dusting the other day.”
“It speaks to everyone, Mr. White. Ovid Gilman murdered thirteen people and requested to have his confession bound in his own skin after he hanged. It is impossible to shut him up on the subject of his crimes. I asked for unusual occurrences.”
Ves looked around to gage if Mr. Quinn was joking. He didn’t appear to be.
When no one else spoke up, the head librarian folded his hands in front of him. “Then we will scour the shelves—every volume must be examined against the catalog and its contents assured to match both cover and card. It will not be an easy task, but we must be thorough. I will personally handle all restricted tomes.” He scanned the determined faces turned toward him. “Naturally, if you find any book in need of conservation, make a note of it. Mr. Fairchild will compile them into a list for Mr. Rune’s attention, once there is time. Are there any questions?”
There were not. Mr. Quinn went on, “There is also another matter I must bring to your attention.” He gave an abbreviated summary of Ves’s encounters with the spirit, then said, “If you hear or feel anything out of the ordinary, report it directly to me immediately. Miss Endicott will be consulting on how best to protect ourselves from this entity, but in the meantime be on your guard. Vigilance!”
Mr. Quinn finished by assigning sections of the library to various librarians and sub-librarians. They nodded firmly when given their tasks and departed instantly to begin work, with no grumbling about the immense task before them.
“Don’t worry,” Sebastian murmured to Ves. “If the book is here, we’ll find it.”
“They certainly seem…eager to get to work,” Ves said carefully.
“They believe in the library’s mission,” Sebastian replied, pride warming his voice. “To preserve knowledge and assist in research, to defend the town against arcane threats.”
“You do realize how mad that sounds, don’t you?” Ves asked.
Sebastian frowned. “No. It’s a necessity. We serve Widdershins, in whatever way is required of us.”
“Mr. Rath, Mr. Rune.” With the rest of the librarians sent on their ways, Mr. Quinn turned to them. “Your task is to delve through these letters and drawings Mr. O’Neil collected.”
“I’d like to authenticate Mr. Ladysmith’s handwriting,” Sebastian said.
“Naturally.” Mr. Quinn tilted his head. “Do you need any assistance, other than Mr. Rune?”
Sebastian glanced uncertainly at Ves. “If you don’t wish to work together…”
This would give Ves the chance he needed to keep an eye on Sebastian. Make sure he was safe from Waite. “Of course I do.”
The happiness in Sebastian’s smile called forth an ache of longing in his chest. “Then no, Mr. Quinn. Vesper is all I need.”
On the way to Sebastian’s office, they stopped first at the Widdershins Collection overseen by Mortimer. The collection housed important documents, including those concerning the museum’s founding. One of these, the official declaration granting the funds for the museum’s construction, bore Nathanial R. Ladysmith’s signature. Mortimer wasn’t there, but Sebastian knew where the documents he was looking for were kept, and removed them himself.
Ves’s presence warmed Sebastian, and he found himself in a far better mood than he’d expected. It seemed they’d be able to put the awkwardness of last night behind them and move forward as friends. Indeed, as they headed for Sebastian’s office, Ves struck up a conversation.
“How well do you know Mr. Waite?” he asked.
“Mortimer? Well enough, I suppose.” Sebastian glanced down at Ves curiously. “Better since his engagement to Irene.”
Ves looked faintly alarmed. “He’s engaged to Miss Endicott?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t really see it myself, but they seem content enough, and it makes their families happy. The Waites are one of the old families, you see.”
“I don’t, actually.” Ves stuck his hands in his pockets. “People keep saying that, but no one explains what it actually means.”
“Oh!” It shouldn’t have been so easy to forget Ves was an outsider. “A handful of families founded Widdershins in 1693. They were all acolytes of Theron Blackbyrne, who turned out to be a necromancer. For future reference, the old family names are Marsh, Lester, Whyborne, and Waite. There used to be the Abbots,