She is right, but Snack Thief is quicker, nimbler, and far quieter than any drone. In under a minute he flits back through the doorway.
Lander blinks, his eyes returning to normal. “Four human guards, all asleep,” he says.
George takes point, and we slip inside.
Chapter Thirty
At Lander’s signal,our group divides, hunting the two guards to the left and two to the right. Jill and George head one way; Riker and Dayna the other.
Lander and I wait.
Inside the library, the care shows. Whoever designed this place took pride in their work.
Windows abound, perfect for natural light. Rows of tall shelves climb almost to the ceiling, every book precisely aligned, none shoved in sideways or left astray. The scent of old paper and fresh ink wraps around me like a welcome.
Even with my power locked down, I feel a faint hum of magic tickling my skin—wards woven into the bindings, tiny preservation charms stitched into every spine so that no page ever yellows or tears.
Four wooden tables stand in two neat rows, polishedso smooth I can see my reflection. Each is set with inkwells, blotters, and carefully sharpened quills. After years spent toiling in dim basements, I would have loved to work here; I find myself nudging one quill into perfect alignment.
Even the noticeboard is immaculate: requests penned in precise, looping script, each pinned with a little paper seal folded into a crane or a fox.
I hope Knox and his people are okay.
Near-silent pops echo down the corridor as the paper guns discharge—I catch the sound only because I’m listening for it. I smile inwardly: lighter, quieter, and every bit as effective as standard stunners.
Riker emerges from a side room. “They’re down and tied up, and I found another paperweight. I can smell the magic now; there’s one more just over there.” The hammer is already in his hand, ready to go. After he destroys it, he checks the rest of the library but finds no more.
The guards are all human; there is still no sign of the coven or Knox. Behind us, George throws up a temporary ward to stop anyone doubling back towards the building.
We move on, clearing each structure one by one and dropping the hired guards. Lander thinks they are mercenaries. Some are wide awake and put up a fight; the rest are asleep, trusting the outer wards.
At the main building, the one with the conference centre, I spot a familiar face.
Detective Wallace slumps in a battered swivel chair, fast asleep, his chin tucked into the rumpled collar of his shirt. His snores rattle around the room, competing with the buzz of cheap strip lighting and the desk fan in the corner,which clicks each time it reaches the end of its arc and wafts the faint smell of stale coffee.
I raise my paper gun and fire, the spell striking him squarely in the forehead.
“Idiot. You chose the wrong side. You should be ashamed of yourself,” I mumble. “The humans are not mercenaries; they are off-duty Human Sector police officers,” I tell the others.
What a mess this has become. She must have promised them something extraordinary.
I am glad we are using paper guns and sleeping spells rather than stunners, which carry a small risk of heart failure, or combat spells that would kill. I have no qualms about killing, but killing Human Sector police officers would endanger everyone.
The drones and Snack Thief confirm Meredith’s location.
She is holed up in Knox’s quarters. Her coven sleeps in the staff accommodation building, all except Samuel. Jill hands me the drone’s control pad. Samuel sits among piles of books, drawing symbols on the floor and chanting beside a painfully familiar circle.
My hands shake. I step back and pass the pad to Jill.
“Excuse me.”
“Are you all right?” Lander asks, edging closer.
I shake my head. “Can we talk? Privately?”
“Of course.” He takes my arm and guides me to the end of the corridor.
The vacant conference room is a narrow rectangle with beige walls, a long laminate table running down the centre, and a mismatched herd of chairs crammed around it. Alongthe far wall stands a bench, its vinyl seat cracked at the edges. He steers me towards it, positioning himself with his back to the door.
