Sharyn glanced over. “Is that true?”
“That’s what they say. And if they’re right, you definitely don’t want to get on the bad side of this place.”
“I’ll try my best.”
They finally reached a door stenciled with the wordsRare Bookson it. Ms. Peele slipped out a keycard and tapped the glowing lock. A brief chime sounded, followed by a whisper of sliding bolts.
Before the door could be opened, a muffled crash rose from inside. Sharyn stepped back, ready for a fast retreat, but Ms. Peele yanked the door open.
A flare of light momentarily blinded Sharyn, but the older woman barged across the threshold. “Why didn’t someone tell me you were back here?” Ms. Peele blurted out.
Sharyn got drawn in the librarian’s wake. Still, adrenaline spiked through her, tightening her chest. Raised in an alcoholic household, her body had honed a quickfire fight-or-flight response when it came to a threat.
“You’re supposed to log in and out,” Ms. Peele scolded whomever was inside. “You should know better. Just because you were once the director of the libraries does not give you the right to flaunt our rules.”
“I apologize.” The voice rose from behind a stack of wooden crates, well over a dozen. One box had toppled over and lay broken—likely the source of the noise a moment ago. A crowbar rested on the floor next to it. “I had thought I’d only be here a few minutes.”
A tall gray-haired man with a matching goatee straightened from a crouch beside the cracked crate. He swiped a fall of hair from his sweaty brow. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. A suit jacket hung on a nearby dolly. He dusted off his hands and stepped over to greet them.
Ms. Peele admonished the man. “I could’ve accidentally locked you inside.” She waved to Sharyn. “If not for a student who checked out the Saxton Atlas, I would’ve never known anyone was still in here.”
The man offered a slight bow of his head in apology. “Fear not, I still have my own keys to the building. I could’ve freed myself if need be.”
“Still, I should’ve been informed.”
“Of course. It was an inexcusable lapse.”
He stepped over and hugged Ms. Peele, which warmed the woman’s scowl into a soft smile. Clearly, they knew each other well.
Once free of the man’s arms, she wagged a finger at him. “Don’t do it again.”
“Never, my dearest Ms. Peele.”
The man’s eyes fell upon Sharyn with a slight raise of his brows. “Ms. Karr, is it not?”
Sharyn struggled to respond, shocked that the former director of the libraries knew her name.
He stepped closer and relieved her of the boxed atlas, which he placed on a nearby cart. “I remember your application to our MA program in Magic and Occult Sciences. We’ve not formally met. I’m Professor Julian Wright.”
He held out his hand, which she took reflexively, and finally freed her tongue. “You’re the head of the Exeter program.”
“Indeed. Next spring, I’ll be teaching coursework on paleography.”
She nodded, anxious to delve into this very subject. Paleography, the study of ancient writing systems, covered everything from deciphering languages to dating texts. It also explored the history of illuminated drawings, a particular interest of hers.
Ms. Peele interrupted with her hands on her hips, staring at the crates, especially the broken one. “I heard there was a delivery this morning, a donation of books.”
“A bequeathment,” Wright corrected and turned to the stacks, his eyes taking on a haunted cast. “From a friend and colleague of mine. To expedite cataloging, I had the crates delivered and secured in the Rare Books Collection. I came to retrieve the lading slip and take it to my office for review. I thought I’d be in and out.”
Sharyn eyed the crowbar on the floor.
“You’ve been doing more than that,” Ms. Peele scolded.
“True. A quick glance down the list revealed several extremely rare books that I thought should be set aside before we bring in archivists to catalog the collection.”
Sharyn noted most of the boxes had their lids pried off, revealing cloth-wrapped books packed inside and cushioned by dry hay. Many of the volumes had been unbound to reveal dusty texts with faded titles. She found herself frowning, recognizing the work had been done hastily. Several books looked as if they had been haphazardly tossed to the side.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Ms. Peele asked.
