A Hackwith - The Library of the Unwritten

Rami made a slow show of measuring the room. “You’ve found yourself some privacy, Librarian. What if my good friend the bartender decides to step out?”

The librarian looked scandalized. “My goodness. Someone is desperate. Whatever will we do? I suppose that depends.” She cleared her throat and raised her voice. “What exactly is the protocol for handling aggressors in Valhalla, Arlid?”

Rami stifled the urge to jerk back as a leather-clad raven woman dropped from a shadow in the rafters. The woman squinted her kohl-heavy eyes, none too happy at being called out. “Aggressors are fed to the flock.”

“And am I the aggressor in this scenario?”

“No.” Arlid’s lip curled. “But the night is young.”

Claire turned to Rami. “There, you see. The raven captain has been keeping an awfully close eye on me and will be making sure the only one who gets to rough me up is her. You are welcome to test that, of course, but I think you’ll find she likes her duty even more than she loathes me. Isn’t that right, Arlid?”

“You have no honor,” Arlid muttered.

“Something you two agree on,” Claire agreed. Her eyes dropped to his coat. “It’s a shame that your feathers are the wrong color for her flock.”

Rami worked his jaw but said nothing. It was the second time tonight he had been surprised by Hell. He found he didn’t care for it.

Claire shrugged and slid one of the abandoned drinks to Andras, though Rami noted she’d never touched her own. “The bottom line is this: the book is under the protection of the Library now. It belongs in Hell. Heaven should mind its own business.”

“Not when the safety of humanity is at stake,” Rami said.

“Funny, that’s why I’m here too.” The woman gave a rueful smile that was so human it made the backs of Rami’s hands itch. He wasn’t used to interacting with human souls from other realms. He’d spent plenty of time among souls on Earth during his stint as a guide for the lost, not to mention his time in exile among mortals during Earth’s earliest history. But a human soul that chose an eternity in Hell? He couldn’t understand that. Especially a soul that seemed so… practical. He half wished she’d be as sinister as her demon attendant. It would ease that wrong feeling at the back of his head.

Rami shook the thought from his shoulders and stood. “You work for the Deceiver.”

No one followed as he left, though Rami thought he heard a long sigh at his back before it was swept up in the increased noise of the hall. Rami hit the door hard enough to make it rock on its hinges as he waded into the sea of revelers. He needed to clear his head. He needed to form a plan.

He needed information for a plan. Answers.

Uriel was in deep conversation by the time Rami found her again in the main hall.

Or, rather, the broad-shouldered creature with a pair of double axes on his hip was in deep conversation. Uriel looked distinctly unamused. Not that Uriel was in the habit of being amused ever, but she held a glare for the Viking man that she usually reserved for improperly tempered blades and disappointing reports.

“No. I am not interested. Thank you.”

“But a maiden like yourself—”

“Move. On.”

“Trouble?” Rami asked as he slid to fill the space vacated.

“Humans.” Uriel grunted the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “It defies logic that their base interest in reproduction lasts beyond death. And the entitlement to it! Arrogant, all of them.”

“Hmm, yes. The arrogance. Imagine.” Rami guided Uriel into a quiet corner. “I encountered the librarian and her people.”

Uriel raised a brow. “Demons?”

“At least one. I don’t know him from… before. But powerful, dangerous.”

“What did you learn?”

“They do not have possession of the artifact, but their hunt led them here, and the librarian considers it under the jurisdiction of the Library.”

Uriel waved that away too easily. “Heaven’s claim supersedes that of any other realm.”

“She also implied that there’s more to this artifact than powerful magic.” Rami said it with a dismissive air but watched Uriel’s reaction carefully. She tilted her chin but looked out over the crowd, hiding the pull of her expression.

“Is that so? How curious.”

“Is it true?”

“Acquire the artifact and we’ll know.” Her answer only seeded the doubt in his gut. Uriel turned back to him. “Their plan?”

“I gathered that they were waiting for something they needed here. She said they would be leaving tomorrow,” Rami said. “She was lying, of course.”

“Glad to see your time in the wild hasn’t made you entirely soft.” Uriel narrowed her eyes and searched for something in the crowd. “We will need to intercept them.”

“Any attempt to confront them will get us expelled from Valhalla. Or worse,” Rami said, thinking of the raven captain and her guard.

“Not if they stray someplace where Valhalla isn’t watching. First rule of demons, Ramiel: you can always rely on servants of Hell to be where they shouldn’t.”

THE FEATHERS FROTHED AND churned like a small storm cloud clinging to the Watcher. Claire kept her eyes on it until he disappeared through the swinging door. Then she allowed herself to let out a long breath.

“Well, that was bracing.” Andras drew a fingertip over his lip, amusement ill concealed. He took a neat sip of ale.

Claire, on the other hand, was too much on edge to drink, unlike the demon and the damned angel. Ramiel had been in easy conversation with the warriors when they’d found him, forcing Claire and Andras to hang back until his drinking companions had left.

He was comfortable here, Claire realized as they’d waited. Comfortable and with a stronger natural connection with this place than Claire or even Hero could hope for. If it came down to forcing Valhalla to choose a side, Bjorn’s allegiance to the Library wouldn’t be enough. Brevity’s charm wouldn’t be enough. If the angels pushed, it was only a matter of time before Valhalla’s hospitality showed cracks.

“We need to get out of here.” The conclusion brought her up out of the chair.

Andras nodded as he followed. “We should have time if they think we’re staying the night.”

“He didn’t buy it.” Claire had seen it in the angel’s eyes. All angels had keen eyes, but Ramiel seemed particularly tuned to reading mortals. At any other time, she would have found it interesting, a deviance in the angelic personality type, but right now it was a significant threat. She would need to avoid revealing too much next time they crossed paths. “We need to leave as soon as we speak to Bjorn. Before they have time to plan.”

“That necessitates that we act without a plan.” Andras was displeased. “I’m a very big proponent of plans. Ardent fan, even.”

Claire waved a vague hand as they left. “Can’t be helped. We’ll be doing this the human way: quick and improvised.”

THE MAIN HALL HAD progressed beyond boisterous celebration and into clusters of dedicated drinkers industriously working toward a stupor. This worked in Claire’s favor, as the path had eased and the largest warriors still blocking her path had become significantly less mobile. She and Andras wound their way through the stifling hall toward Bjorn’s study.