Page 6

I had heard nothing about this Wolfram guy, the carer… The paint on the sign had been muddled, as if defaced at one point. I checked the email on my phone and found a parking spot in the old gravel lot, checking the time to make sure I wasn’t too early. Just a few minutes.

I got out of the car and inhaled as I did so, the scent of old paper strong there. It drew me in like a siren’s song, like an invisible hand on my back pushing me up to the stairs, just three of them, worn brick crunching under my feet as I made it to the door and tried the knob. With just a quick twist, it opened for me.

I didn’t know if I should knock, but I did so even as I opened the door and stepped in, taking in the sight before me.

The building outside had seemed sizable, but inside, it appeared bigger with tall bookshelves, hand carved and gleaming with fresh wax as far as I could see.

Lights flicked on above me, yellow bulbs behind green and white glass, interspersing ephemeral light over the sea of stacks as I navigated my way to the circulation desk, finding nobody there. “Hello?”

Whispers petered out somewhere down the way, like a few people caught mid conversation.

The slam of a book somewhere, a scuttling, papers shuffling, and a groan of wood drew my attention.

“Ahem.” A curt voice piped up behind me, making my heart skip a beat. I whipped around and stared at the shortest little woman I’d seen in a long time, textured white hair pinned atop her head in a neat bun. Her outfit, a pencil skirt and jacket with a hint of lace trim at the collar and sleeves, sat starched and pressed like new. I found it strange, seeing as an outfit like that was likely older than I was.

I jumped, but didn’t swear. “Oh!”

“Alexei, I presume?” She didn’t extend a hand for mine but rather kept her arms folded across a book in her arms. She stared up at me imperiously as I nodded. “Good. What do you prefer to be called?” She stared at me.

“Lex.” I cleared my throat as my voice cracked.

“Good. You may call me Isa. Never give them your full name.” She sniffed imperiously as she wound her way around me, clunky shoes clacking on the worn red carpet.

I had no idea who them referred to, but I nodded.

“Rules of the library. I’ve prepared you a dossier.” She gestured for me to lift the separator at the circulation desk. The hinged wood creaked as I lifted it to enter the giant circular desk area. She marched ahead of me, gesturing toward printed papers on the polished wood counter.

“No pens are allowed. No ink. No printers, nothing indelible. Pencils only.” She rattled off the rules as I read them. “Turn out your pockets.”

I patted my shirt down and emptied my pockets—phone, wallet, keys.

She leaned over to inspect them.

“Good. Now. It’s pretty self-explanatory. The return bin is up front, just open that closet and you can retrieve them. Put them in their places. Anything with a red sticker, do not let people check out. It stays here. Yellow stickers are adoptable, so if they say they’re keeping the book, strike out the card in the catalogue. I’d like things to be digitized eventually, so any proposals you have for starting that process, I’d be thrilled to hear.”

I nodded along as she pointed out the computer, noting my password and things would be on the dossier of rules.

“I’ll be here for about an hour or so every morning. You may send me emails with your questions, but I’m not all there anymore, so I’m not much help.” She continued glancing around. “There’s a key to the building there for you, but it’s special. Outlined in the document as well.” I glanced down at what appeared to be an old skeleton key on a long gold chain. “Put it on.”

I did so, letting the long chain droop to my navel.

“That stays on you at all times, do you understand? Anywhere in this building, especially. Goodness forbid you get lost and we can’t find you.” She stared me down, her expression no-nonsense and rather devoid of anything that made me comfortable asking a question.

I frowned and turned the key over, expecting to find a tracking device or a camera or something.

“What about when I’m home?”

“At. All. Times.” She wagged a finger at me and glared. “Shower? Yes. Sleeping? Yes. That key stays with you. It’s the single most valuable thing here.”

I pursed my lips.

“Another cannot be made, and there are books here worth more than my life.” She pointed around. “Now, what’s your skill?”

“I’m just a librarian… I’ve got experience digitizing things, so I suppo—”

She hand waved me off, face wrinkled. “For now, just mind the stacks. Stay out of the cordoned-off wing; the books there are wild. The ones behind glass are for looking, not touching. Zeke handles those, so you don’t have to worry. Once you’re more comfortable, we can expand things.”

“Zeke?”