Oh, I think that means I screwed up by going straight to the serious questions. I am not good with interviews!
Binx was looking around but April gave me an encouraging smile, so I was still on interview duty despite the blunder.
“No,” I said. “I was instructed to check in with you by my supervisor—to follow up so we can have the complete story in our notes.”
“The Wizards at House Tellier won’t get in trouble for helping us, will they?” Gail asked.
“No,” I said. “Supernaturals are allowed to use magic if it means saving someone—libraries included,” I said.
Wait, that didn’t make any sense—libraries aren’t people.
Gail was delighted by my blunder. She laughed and some of the worry seeped out as she sat more comfortably in her chair. “Indeed—libraries are practically persons on their own! They have the thoughts and writings of generations.” Her smile faded, and she added. “But I am glad for House Tellier’s assistance.” I was puzzled—she didn’t sound quite as happy and joyous as she had a moment ago, then she added, “It’s the second time they have helped the library.”
I paused, my fingers hovering over my phone. “Oh?”
“Yes. They donated a statue to the library to put in the peace gardens.”
April stirred on the couch. “When was this?”
I swear it was like the skies opened up and angels wept in relief—I wasn’t the only one responsible for the questions anymore!
“In the beginning of summer—it was right as we were finishing the fundraising push,” Gail said. “The statue was destroyed in the fire, unfortunately. Thankfully, all our other statues survived.”
“What was it a statue of?” I asked.
“It was a large cube with deep cracks within it—about the size of this coffee table,” Gail said. “It was calledCreativityand was supposed to represent a bursting imagination, filled so full the cube—which represented the restraints we put upon it—was cracking.”
“Did theysaywhat it was supposed to represent?” April asked.
Based on the jagged tone to her voice, I was starting to suspect her questions were coming from her House’s hatred of House Tellier.
Oh, well. She’s still thinking of good questions.
“No… now that you mention it, I don’t believe they did.” Gail paused, her eyes crinkling around the edges.
She’s uncomfortable with House Tellier, and I don’t think it’s just because they’re wizards as she seems fine with us.
“How did they give you the statue?” I asked.
Once again I didn’t realize I hadn’t done the best job phrasing my question until it popped out of my mouth. Even Binx raised an eyebrow at this one.
Thankfully, Gail settled back in her chair. “It was very… sudden,” she said. “They showed up with the statue in the bed of a truck and dropped it off the day before we ended the fundraising.”
“Wait, they didn’t tell you about it beforehand?” April asked.
Gail shook her head. “No. We weren’t aware they were planning to give us a donation until they arrived and asked to place the statue in a prominent place inside the garden.”
That’s suspicious.
It was especially odd considering House Tellier had been vocal in its beliefs that humans were unimportant.
They weren’t anti-human, but they didn’t care about them. Supposedly, they used to give Elite Bellus—the wizard leader of the Midwest—a lot more grief about his desire to work with humans.
Then Adept Medeis became his protegee, and they magically shut up. Adept Medeis probably forced their hand after they failed in their bid to help a different member of House Medeis become the Adept.
It had been a huge scandal as House inheritance was never meddled with. Wizard Houses were somewhat sentient and had their own magic—and ideas.
If the wizards of House Tellier were stupid enough to mess around in the inheritance of an entirely different House, just what kind of sketchy behavior are they capable of pulling?
