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The lights flicked on around a room that she could only describe as, not a library, but a book sanctuary. Where Molly expected to run her fingers across worn wooden bookshelves that perhaps sagged under the weight of hefty leather-bound tomes, she was met with more granite instead. All along the walls, slabs of stone had been hollowed out at deliberate intervals, creating formidable ledges far sturdier than any bookshelf a master furniture maker could hope to construct. Every wall-to-wall indentation in rock was home to rows upon rows of carefully cradled books. Glass windows with handles shielded the stacks from any elements and allowed for easy perusal and selection.
The space wasn’t particularly large, and it didn’t have that cavernous flair of old-world libraries, but what it lacked in size, it made up for with a presence of permanence. Every shelf was lined with a luxurious fabric Molly suspected was free of acid and safeguarded against mold. Whatever books they stored here hadn’t earned their spots due to being on any bestseller list.
These were the Nelson Mandelas of books, ones that had given so much in their heyday that they were rewarded with an eternal spot in biblio-heaven.
Molly stepped in farther and ran her fingers along the nearest glass shield, marveling at how some spines were constructed in a familiar modern-day fashion, while others seemed pieced together by one who needed like pages to be with their friends. Others, still, featured names of authors, where some books only had symbols or carvings on the spine.
All of it stole her breath.
“This is truly unbelievable,” she whispered but jumped back quickly when she’d gotten too close and her exhale produced a foggy patch on the glass in front of a tome that seemed older than the mountains surrounding them. “Shit! Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. You can’t hurt ‘em.” Brass closed the door behind them and adjusted some dials in a side panel before explaining, “This room is regulated to within an inch of its life. Everything here is controlled meticulously, from humidity levels to temperature to light and even dust.” He gestured toward the stone shelf in front of her. “We carved these way before mortals began using wood for bookshelves. Wood contains natural oils, acids, and lignin, which can erode texts quickly. Stone does a much better job of keeping the crud out. The lining is an acid-free polyester, and all the lighting down here is free of UV rays.”
“I know you’re stalling, but I’m not mad about it,” she breathed out, scanning the rows of books.
His lighthearted chuckle brushed against her skin, even from across the room. “Having a Beauty and the Beast moment?”
“Yes, and you’re ruining it, so stop.” The gentle humor petered off as quickly as it had come on, and then Molly remembered why he’d brought her there in the first place. “You promised me answers.”
Brass’s face fell, and for a moment, she regretted bringing up his original intention.
“I like the taste of teasing you,” he lamented, though his voice was tinged with a dark note of wistfulness that troubled her for reasons she couldn’t say. “I’m going to miss it.”
“Why are you going to mi?—”
“Have a seat.” He nodded toward the array of couches that formed a tight rectangle around the sunken floor occupying the center of the room. In the middle was an oval glass coffee table just close enough to each couch to be handy rather than a hindrance. If the rest of Brass’s brothers were anything to go by, banged knees was likely a real concern.
Molly relaxed into the nearest couch, instantly appreciating its mocha buttery soft leather and, despite the obvious age of the room, the angels’ clear preference for furniture that was both masculine and comfortable. There was something to be said for those who cared not a whit for room aesthetics.
Brass took the couch end opposite her and rested his elbows on his knees, hands fisted in front of him. His attention seemed to hover just above where the coffee table sat, and he stayed silent for some time. If uncertainty was a language, it’d be scripted in the coiled strain of his scapulas and the tension mounding his trapezius muscles higher against his ears.
Should she say something? Remind him that he’d brought her here? Was he having second thoughts about sharing whatever occupied his mind to the point of so much distraction?
What in the hell is he not telling me?
Just as she mustered up the courage to squeak out a few words of Hey, remember me?, his resonant voice filled the silence.
“The pipe didn’t burst by accident.”
Molly sobered. “What? How is that possible? No one else was there. Was it sawed or weakened somehow?”
“No, not sawed, but it was weakened. From what I can tell, the building’s plumbing system probably dates back to the fifties, when everyone and their mother used copper to outfit the piping in their heating systems. I found evidence of stress fractures in the copper pipes running through your baseboards. The fracture patterns on the metal were consistent with what would happen if water froze inside a pipe, then melted as it was heated up again. That type of repeated behavior puts undue strain on the metal and can cause it to rupture, which is what happened.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, though. I mean, I know our town hasn’t invested in natural gas lines yet for the business district and all the shops are still on oil heat, but I just had an oil delivery two weeks ago. I shouldn’t have run out already, and I never keep the restaurant colder than sixty degrees when I’m not there. Pipes don’t freeze at that temperature.”
“They do when the temperature of the water in them is below freezing.”
Molly shook her head. “I’m not following.”
Brass leaned his forehead against his fists and took several deep breaths that rattled his strong frame. When he looked at her, a light sheen of sweat dappled his temples, and an air of vulnerability she hadn’t seen from him before morphed his stern gaze into one of wariness.
She sat up slowly and leaned closer to him. “Tell me.”
“You saw me in my metallic form. My brass form.”
Well, I guess we’re just going to get right down to business, then.
“I did,” she answered.
