A Hackwith - The Library of the Unwritten

“I can’t send you back. If you were still in Valhalla, sure. But you said it was a forgotten realm—I can’t send you back somewhere we don’t have a path to.”

“But you just—”

“An IWL is kind of a one-way trip. Besides, the Library is sealed and…” Brevity paused as another jolt rolled through and rained dust down on them from the stacks. “And I need you here.”

A muddle of decisions warred on Hero’s face, and for a moment Brevity wondered if she really would have to lock him up with his book. Then a frown tipped the scales, and he settled for a terse nod. “Andras?”

“Only makes sense, given what you said. The wards are hol—” Brevity staggered as the air was snapped from her lungs. Hero put out a hand to steady her as the lights shifted from white to purple and back again. Hero’s hand was probably the only thing that kept her from curling up on the floor. “Something just took the first ward down.”

“How many wards do we have?”

“Three. But the first ward is the dream ward. If that one went…” Brevity faltered. “They’re supposed to hold up to demons . What could… Oh no.” She turned and Hero had to tilt so she didn’t smack on the business end of the swords he held. “You said he’s got the codex pages. He’s using the pages as weapons.”

Hero blinked. “He can do that?”

“It’s the Devil’s Bible. Boss couldn’t even touch the pages. Who knows what he inked them with?” Brevity’s stomach sank. She said the words so she didn’t feel them too hard. “If he’s burning up pages to get in, the wards aren’t going to hold.”

Hero stopped. The floor shivered beneath them as the thundering took up again. His knuckles whitened and curled around the bundle of scabbards. “What do you need me to do?”

It was a question that appeared to cost him something to ask. It helped, just a little. Brevity drew her shoulders up. “Clone yourself, perhaps procure an ancient artifact of great power while you’re at it?” She gave him a game smile as she caught a hail of books that fell from the nearest shelf.

Hero stared. “How can you be so blithe in the face of imminent demise?”

All she needed was an audience. Brevity swallowed the lump in her throat. “Practice. Remember who I work for?” There was a particularly loud impact, and she shot an anxious glance down the aisle, where she could see the ward lights still floating above the desk. The second light was stuttering rapidly. “Not good. Let’s hurry and… I dunno, set up some blockades, maybe?”

“I assume there’s a plan?” Hero asked. “Because if it’s two against an army of demonic Horrors, I think I’d rather just take my chances on the regime change with the damsels.”

“Well, without being able to reach Walter, we’re kinda—” Brevity halted midstep, felt like an idiot, and let out a squeal. “Damsels. Oh, you’re brilliant !”

Hero managed a confused “Of course I am…” before following to see what he was brilliant about.

Brevity changed course, mentally scolding herself. She’d been so worried about filling Claire’s shoes, about being a librarian, running the Library as Claire would want, preserving the books as Claire would do—failing where Claire would have succeeded. She’d tried so hard to think and act like Claire, when the answer was staring her in the face.

She had been thinking like Claire. She’d been thinking of the damsels as books, things to preserve and curate.

Not people.

The glass-set door cracked as Brevity barged into the damsel suite. The occupants were gathered in uneasy clusters, likely already worried from what Charlotte and Aurora had reported. A dozen sets of pretty eyes narrowed as they took in Hero with his arms full of weapons.

Brevity could positively feel the blush that radiated as Hero shifted next to her. “Plan, muse?”

“Plan,” Brevity confirmed. She took a deep breath and dropped her face into something apologetic. She turned to the damsels and cleared her throat. “Hey, guys? I need a moment. I’m so sorry, but I’m going to need to restrict all of you to your books for your own safety. The Library is experiencing technical difficulties with our wards—mainly demons bent on destruction, see—and should the wards fall, it’d be best if you’re out of the way. So if you please can make your way to your books—”

“What?” a blond woman interrupted. She wore a leather catsuit that frankly defied the laws of physics and anatomy. She looked like a spy or, rather, some spy’s poorly written sidekick. She must have been new if she was still wearing that thing.

“I know this is very sudden, ladies.” Brevity kept her voice slow and calm. “Hero and I will do our very best, but it’s likely that you’ll experience a change of management in the near future. Andras is determined to possess your books and he has Horrors—”

She was drowned out by a swell of murmurs from the damsels. Charlotte, appearing to have her puritan sensibilities insulted more by the disorder than by the news, let out a sharp whistle to silence the group. She turned to Brevity. “What does a demon want with us?”

Brevity exchanged a mournful look with Hero. “We think he intends to use books as magical power for his coup. Or possibly bribes. For the court.”

That brought the protests back in force. “I’m not being someone’s reward again,” a princess with white hair said.

“At least you didn’t get fridged in yours.” A curvy woman in a pencil skirt slumped into a chair. “Where’s Claire?”

“Claire’s on her way…” Brevity faltered. “But we might be on our own for now. But now…” Brevity raised her hands. “No need for distress. We have Hero here and—”

“Heroes don’t do shit ,” a firm voice spoke up. The damsel wore what might have started its life as a gauzy peasant gown, but at some point, it had been ripped and tied and stitched and paired with utilitarian fatigues until they resembled more of an androgynous apocalyptic soldier than a damsel. They spit and glared with open hostility at Hero. “Except die first. They do that well.”

“I don’t—”

“They’re kinda right,” a curvy alien with lavender tentacles said shyly.

“Your books—”

“Our books suck,” Charlotte said, and Brevity really would have to find out where that slang had entered her vocabulary. “We’re stronger outside of them.” She waited until she received some scattered nods from around the room. She squared up to Brevity. “So give us weapons.”

“What?” Brevity placed a hand to her chest, widening her eyes. “I couldn’t. I’m the acting librarian and you’re—”

“We’re damsels. Unsuitable ones at that—isn’t that why we’re here?” Charlotte picked an imaginary fleck from her skirt. At some point, she’d modified it to make it easier to walk in, Brevity realized. Modeled after Claire’s, perhaps. Charlotte crossed her arms. “Maybe that just makes us people now.”

“And people always have a choice,” Hero added softly.

“Look, even a hero gets it,” someone else muttered with only a small amount of disdain.

Charlotte nodded. “We’re people. And we aren’t sitting back and letting some old man tell the story for us again.”

A low agreement, hesitant at first, trickled through the room. The damsels seemed divided, but the quiet broke when Aurora, silent as always, padded forward on hooved feet. She inspected Hero’s arms and reached hesitantly for the scabbard of a blade nearly as long as she was tall. It wobbled in her hands, and she stepped back. She was followed by a chubby boy in a wizard’s robe. The leather-clad spy was next, selecting a thin dagger.