Page 35 of Must Love Libraries and Libations
“Oh, one won’t hurt,” Miss Windsong replied, patting Stevenson on the head before handing him a muffin. The bookwyrm rewarded her with a nuzzle under the chin, then turned, glared at me once more, and headed off with his prize.
“You were supposed to be helping me,” I called to the boookwyrm, who answered me by blowing a loud raspberry.
Miss Windsong chuckled. “Now, why don’t you show me around? That’s the rare books room, isn’t it? I bet you have perfect items in there for display.”
Not far from us, Merlin growled low.
“Miss Windsong, this really isn’t the time. I know you think I’m just being?—”
Merlin let out a low bark, calling me.
Frowning, I turned from her and hurried to the bookwyrm. He was seated in the corner of the stacks, tail twitching. A moment later, I saw why. Bright pink light peeked up from behind the books.
“Oh, no,” I gasped, then began to pivot quickly, casting a spell just as Merlin also made his move. But the enchantment was too fast, bolting past us and casting fake duplicates of itself in the process to throw us off. “Go that way,” I told Merlin. “I’ll go here,” I said, gesturing. “Miss Windsong, there is a spell loose. You must go back upstairs until we contain it. It’s not safe.”
I hurried after a ball of pink light, but it dissipated into the maps room. Dammit. I had followed a decoy.
On the other side of the basement, I heard Merlin let out a frustrated bark.
“Right. Okay. Let me get out of the way,” Miss Windsong called. “I’ll just… I’ll wait in the wine cellar. I didn’t know you had a wine cellar,” she called happily. “Ooh, look at these!”
“Miss Windsong,” I called in alarm, rushing toward the sound of her voice.
There, on what used to be a blank stone wall, was an arched wooden door.
“Don’t go in there!” I called. “Miss Windsong! Miss Windsong, don’t go in there.”
“Just a peek, Erasmus. It won’t hurt anything.”
“Miss Windsong,” I called, trying to stop her. “Stop!”
But she stepped through.
The moment she did, the doorway glimmered with pink light.
Merlin barked in alarm.
No! She would be trapped.
Without thinking, I rushed forward to grab her and pull her to safety, but the second I stepped through the door, the spell collapsed around me. The door slammed shut behind me. On the other side, Merlin barked in alarm, calling the other bookwyrms to help.
The room shimmered pink in the light of the spell.
I turned to Miss Windsong, whose expression had shifted from playful mirth to fear.
“Erasmus,” she whispered.
“We don’t have a wine cellar,” I told her. “And now, we’re trapped.”
We stood in the near dark, the pink light fading with a mischievous giggle.
I pressed my palm to the heavy oak door and muttered an incantation, feeling the fizz of resistance crawl up my arm like a swarm of stinging bees. My magic was for books, for keeping spells in place, for diffusing things on the page. I could protect the library from mold, foxing, and spellbooks, but this…this was a rogue spell cast hundreds of years ago by a gray witch who loved chaos. My spell faded into nothing.
The door was still sealed.
I exhaled slowly. The stone walls around us were laced with chill, the scents of damp earth and aged wine thick in the air. Faintly, I could hear the trickle of condensation dripping into a stone drain somewhere in the darkness.
Behind me, Miss Windsong’s footsteps were featherlight on the flagstones as she searched the rest of the room. “I suppose it goes without saying, there are no other exits. And I see no obvious weaknesses in the spell.”
