“I shelve a nice library,” Ethan agreed. “Well, I’ll be off. Good luck, and let me know if you find anything.”
“Of course,” I promised. I wasn’t going to miss a chance to tweak him a little more. On the other hand, I was the one who took in the view as he crossed back to the library door.
I’m pretty sure I sighed.
“Have you been together long?” Paige asked when I turned around again.
“We’re not together now.”
She looked decidedly skeptical.
“It’s a long story.” I leaned forward. “Listen, about this connection between him and Mallory—do you know anything that would stop it?”
Paige frowned. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why he still has the connection, especially since the book was destroyed. But there could be methods or work-arounds I’m not familiar with.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Maybe he could learn to control it? He does seem to have a lot of willpower.”
“That is an understatement,” I agreed. “Tall, blond, and stubborn.”
Paige laughed. “Tall, blond, and stubborn is usually right in my wheelhouse. I’m actually kind of surprised I’m interested in the librarian.” Her cheeks went a little pink. “Put two guys side by side—a fair one and a dark one—and I am usually tuned in to the tall, blond, and handsome type.”
Something she said rang familiar in a deep part of my brain. “What did you say?”
“What? Oh, I was just saying I normally prefer blonds.”
But it wasn’t her taste in men that interested me—it was the phrase she’d used. “Dark one,” I repeated, my gaze shifting back and forth as I searched my memory. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“Like, as a phrase?” Paige frowned. “I don’t know it. When did you hear it?”
“When we were in Nebraska,” I realized, and the memories clicked into place. “Todd, the gnome, called Tate a ‘dark one.’ I thought he was referring to the color of Tate’s hair—because it’s dark brown. But maybe that’s not what he meant. Maybe it’s not a description. Maybe it’s a name, or a species.”
“I’m not familiar with the term, but I can look it up.” She pulled a giant book closer to her. “I’ll check the sorcerer’s omnibus.”
“Sorcerer’s omnibus?”
“It’s like a giant magical dictionary,” she absently said, and she was already thumbing through the entries. “If it’s not in here, it doesn’t exist.”
She flipped the book open to a page, then skimmed a finger down the page she’d found. But when her shoulders slumped, I knew she hadn’t found it.
“Nothing?”
“It doesn’t exist.” She looked up at me. “If that was really a term of magical art—and not just a description—it would be in here. This thing is super-thorough.”
Maybe, but I wasn’t willing to give up so easily.
“Dark one” was an odd phrase. It wasn’t the kind of thing someone would just randomly say. On the other hand, Todd was an unusual guy.
“ ‘Sorcerers just don’t get us,’ ” I remembered him saying, and I began to smile. Maybe we weren’t coming at this from the right direction. Maybe “dark one” was a magical term of art…but not for sorcerers.
I jumped up, ignored Paige’s question about where I was going, and ran down the aisles until I found the librarian.
“Are you running in my library?”
“Only because I need you. Do we have any books written by gnomes?”
He frowned but nodded. “Yes. Why? I thought you were looking for conjuration spells.”
“Been there, done that.” I smiled and thought of Todd. “I need gnome books. You know, because sorcerers just don’t get them.”
He didn’t get the joke. “They’re in cultural studies. About four rows to the left. Your other left!” he corrected, when I dodged right.
A few minutes later, Paige found me on the floor pulling books into my lap. “Bright idea?”
“I think it’s a gnome’s phrase.”
“Damn,” she said. “I wish I’d thought of that.” She sat down on the floor beside me, and I handed over A Gnome’s Guide to Names.
“Come on in,” I said. “The water’s fine.”
It wasn’t in A Gnome’s Guide to Names. It wasn’t in Life from the Ground Up. It wasn’t in Better Underground Gardening, Home Sweet Hillock, or Homes for Gnomes. (I couldn’t make this stuff up.)
We did learn that gnomes are especially careful about the layout of their underground dwellings. We learned they preferred plaid to gingham in their decor and often used a dozen or more false entrances and baffles to thwart unwelcome visitors.
When we could map out their favorite color palettes, we called the librarian back into it.