But alive. “Gwyneth?”
“Unbelievably annoying.”
My lips twitch. “My knights?”
“Broken. That is something only you can fix, Daphne Stone. You need to fill in each other’s holes.”
I snort and slap my hand over my mouth to contain the words on my tongue.
“I tire. Return once you are whole.”
The room contracts. “I hate this part,” I grumble. My body feels like it is being squeezed before I’m thrown out into the Hallows Castle library.
The key librarian stumbles with the stack of books in his arms as he diverts his steps around my crumpled naked body.
I give him a thumbs up. “Good reflexes.”
He blinks. “You’re dead.”
I press my hand against my chest. Warm, steady, but out of rhythm. “My heart says otherwise. You know, death is just a state of mind. Think more positively, and then it’s not as big a deal as everyone makes it out to be.”
His mouth opens and closes as if he’s struggling to find his words. I wish I had that problem. I’m the opposite. I have too many of them to deliver, and they get tangled on the way out of my head.
He tilts his head as if he’s trying to make sense of my existence.Me too, buddy, me too. If you figure it out, let me know.
“Where did you come from?” He glances at the ceiling, and, like an idiot, I follow. There’s no Daphne-shaped hole to write home about, only the dusty ceiling of the musty library. He freaked out the last time we mentioned the Living Library,meaning he knows of it. Now it needs some help so we can see the floor. There’s an incredible solution to both things.
I climb to my feet, catching his attention. He grimaces as I place my hands on my bare hips.I’m naked, not growing an extra limb. Get over it.
“All Knowing, I appoint the key librarian to be the caretaker of the Living Library.”
No answer.
“Who are you talking to?” he asks.
I tap my foot on the floor. That’s right, sassy Daphne is the new Daphne. Ugh, I need to pick a lane. I feel you get one chance to pick your new persona after death, and if you do it wrong, you are stuck with it.
Channeling my inner Nash, I raise a brow in treacherous condemnation and wait for cooperation as if it’s a given thing.
“What qualifies him?” the All Knowing demands.
The key librarian drops his books on the floor and gasps. Is he trying to prove he can’t do this job? Book safety is basically the task’s description.
“Who is that?” he whispers.
“The All Knowing. He’s stuffy and thinks he knows more than the rest of us.”
“I do,” the All Knowing points out. “It’s all in the name.”
“Too on the nose. You can’t even locate my sister or knights.”
“I can.”
“But you won’t, which is worse.”
“Get to the point, Daphne,” he demands.
“You need someone to clean up the mess.” I point to the wide-eyed librarian. “He is a hugely qualified and skilled dude who has dedicated his life to preserving books, knowledge, and offering judgy looks. He’s perfect.”
