“That’s not going to make a lot of people happy.”
“My job is to keep this country safe, not keep people happy.”
Setsuna ended the call, and Patrick shoved his phone into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Gerard eyed Patrick over the rims of the aviator sunglasses he wore.
“Let’s get that book and then get the fuck out of here,” Gerard said.
“Yeah,” Patrick said, not wanting to spend the night in the hotel they’d reserved just in case. He’d rather fall asleep in Jono’s arms than in a Marriott by himself.
* * *
The Library of Congressconsisted of three buildings, the most recognizable one being the Thomas Jefferson Building. As the research arm for the federal government, it was located on a block in front of the Capitol Building. Its stone façade was unremarkable in a city area where granite and marble made up the majority of neutral tones around the National Mall. The preservation wards etched into its walls could be found on most of the monuments calling the heart of the nation’s capital home. These wards were different, in that they were meant to keep intact the delicate paper and historical relics kept inside the Library.
Housed and protected within its walls were upward of thirty-eight million written works in over four hundred different languages. The largest library in the world was a place that had carried countless whispered conversations over the centuries, and Patrick contributed to that storied history with an unrepentant “Fuckingshit, but this is getting us nowhere.”
Sage didn’t even look away from the shelves she was perusing on the other research landing, critically eyeing the titles on the bindings. “You’re the one with magic. Shouldn’t you be able to find the book through a spell?”
Patrick scowled from his own research landing, glaring at the books before him. “Half the books on this floor are warded with magic for safekeeping. Outside magic isn’t allowed.”
“You’re using an outside voice,” Gerard said from the other end of the African & Middle Eastern Reading Room.
“Oh, fuck you.”
It was well past closing, and the only reason they had access after-hours was due to Gerard’s ties to the military and a direct request from General Reed to allow them entry. Patrick’s government connections were nonexistent still, and they’d have been kicked out at closing if he’d been the one to ask.
They weren’t making the last flight out back to New York tonight, and he was still pissed about that.
Sighing, he looked down at the carved elephant head in his hand, touching his thumb to the tip of one tiny crystal tusk. He’d been surprised the tusks hadn’t been made out of ivory, but once he figured out the liquid inside was blood—probably Ashanti’s—the artifact’s construction made more sense.
So far, the subtle, insidious magic layered over the artifact had drawn them to this room. It had taken walking through all the many hallways, rooms, and archives of the library before they’d been pulled into the African & Middle Eastern Reading Room.
Patrick couldn’t sense any magic in the room, but that didn’t mean the book they were looking for wasn’t there. Ashanti’s magic didn’t stem from a human soul but a godhead, and the book they were searching for could’ve been made with the same sort of power. Which should have made it more noticeable, but nothing was standing out.
Sighing, Patrick turned away from the shelves and took the stairs down from the research landing to the floor. The bookshelves attached to individual research landings were separated by windows. The blinds had all been closed, but the orange glow of streetlamps seeped through a couple of them. As he passed one of the windows on his way back to Gerard, the elephant head vibrated subtly in his hand.
Patrick rocked to a stop, looking down at the artifact for a moment before turning his attention on the surrounding books. The shelves on the nearby research landings were some they hadn’t checked out yet, except the vibration hadn’t happened near the stairs, but in front of the window. He tracked his gaze higher to the balcony that surrounded the reading room lined with shelves and shelves of more books.
“Find something?” Gerard asked from his spot near the wooden archway in the center of the room that bridged both sides like an elegant catwalk.
“Maybe,” Patrick said.
Patrick made his way to the narrow set of stairs on the other side of the archway that led to the balconies. He climbed up and headed for the same area he’d felt the artifact vibrate. Patrick looked up at the shelves in front of him, gaze skimming over titles that had no meaning to him. The carved elephant head never stopped vibrating; Patrick could feel the hum it gave off in his teeth.
Holding the artifact in front of the shelves, he started from the bottom and slowly moved it over the spines of the books. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for—he still couldn’t sense any magic beyond the faint pulse in the artifact—butsomethingwas there.
Ultimately, the book Ashanti had left behind so long ago wasn’t made of magic at all, but blood would always call to blood.
On the top shelf, set high enough that Patrick needed to climb the shelves to reach it, was a slim book that nearly made the artifact shake out of his grip. Patrick left the carved elephant head on the shelf in favor of removing the small book. It slipped free easily enough, the cover old and faded, looking as if it should’ve been in an environmentally sealed case rather than the open air of the reading room.
Getting his feet back on the balcony floor, Patrick studied the cover of the book, frowning at the feel of the leather. As he stared at it, an oily sheen of magic rippled across the front, taking with it the glamour that made it appear like an historical text.
The leather was a dull tan that had wrinkled at the corners. The edges of the paper became yellowed and ragged, aged in a way that spoke of decades spent on a shelf. Patrick carefully opened the cover, frowning as he stared at the handwritten calligraphy listing out the title in a language he couldn’t read. The ink wasn’t ink, but blood, and it made him wonder if the leather was human skin.
“Aw, fuck,” he muttered. Of course Ashanti would be in possession of a book on blood magic.
“What is it?” Sage asked from the floor below, her head tilted back as she looked up at him.
“It’s a spell book containing illegal magic.”
