Page 64 of The Devouring Time

It’s a mere fifteen feet to the top, but I suppose it’s less about the distance and more about being off the ground. Ever gallant, Adrian says, “Don’t worry; I’ll look.”

He climbs the ladder; the thing is perfectly solid beneath his weight, not so much as rattling against its rails.

“The title may not be on the spine,” I call up. “You might have to open the book to see the frontispiece.”

“Got it.”

Apparently it’s not the only volume with no title stamped on the side, as he begins to pull books off, check their first pages, then return them to their place. Though I’m looking up at him, I feel a familiar prickling on the back of my neck.

The watcher has returned.

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“I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” I say in a low voice, “but I think we’re being watched.”

Helen tenses beside me, but Adrian calmly continues checking the last two volumes on the shelf. “I can’t seem to find it,” he says, just loud enough for his voice to carry. “What row was it that the reference librarian said to check next? One hundred?”

“I believe so,” Helen says, catching on to his plan.

Adrian climbs down the ladder and murmurs, “We’ll go to Row 100, then duck back and try to come around along the wall, where we’re less likely to be seen. Maybe we can get the drop on the watcher. Helen, can you distract them?”

“Of course.”

We walk along the rail separating us from the gallery below, in full sight of anyone looking our way. As Adrian and I turn into Row 100, Helen drops her purse. Several pencils, a powder compact, a pocket knife, and a tube of lipstick spill out across the floor.

“Drat,” she says, crouching down in a position that will let her survey the room. “I’ll get this, you gentlemen go on ahead.”

We enter Row 100, make sure we can’t spot anyone surveilling us from the balcony across the way, then sidle along the wall using the stacks as cover. The sensation of being watched has lessened, or at least I think it has. Unless I imagined it in the first place.

No—I need to trust my instincts. They’ve been right all along, even when I thought they’d been broken by shell shock. Besides, Adrian and Helen both believed me without question—even if I have trouble trusting myself, I can certainly trust them.

As we move down the rows, we cautiously peek down each one, looking for any sign of a spy. I don’t think we could have been seen from the lower floor while Adrian was searching for the book, so whoever it is must be up here.

The soft murmur of voices sounds from Row 83.

Adrian pulls his gun from its holster and slips it into his pocket, hand firmly on its grip. Since I don’t want anyone to die if I can help it, I try to reach into that space deep inside where my magic seems to come from. If only Helen had time to instruct me further, I’d feel better about my ability to summon and control it without damaging the books. We probably should have switched, and let Helen come instead of me, but it’s too late now.

I meet Adrian’s gaze and he gives a little nod. It’s time.

We swing around the end of the row, ready to confront whoever has been spying on us.

Two students stand locked in a passionate embrace. The girl lets out a shriek when we spring out, and her paramour leaps away as if stung.

All the tension deserts me. This isn’t our spy, just two young people looking for a private place to neck.

“Oh my God!” The girl puts a hand to her chest. “Don’t jump out at people like that!”

The boy’s face goes bright red. “S-Sorry! We weren’t—it wasn’t what it looked like!”

Adrian sighs. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone else lurking around the stacks?”

They both looked baffled. “No,” the girl says, then she blushes as well.

No doubt they had better things to look at, such as into each other’s eyes. The sense of being watched has left me entirely, and my shoulders slump. “I think they’re gone.”

“Right.” Adrian tips his hat to the couple. “Er, carry on.”

We rejoin Helen at the railing. “Nothing,” Adrian reports. “And Sterling says the watcher has left.”