The Winter Long

FOLLOWING THE DIRECTIONS on Quentin’s phone brought us to the Library of Stars in less than twenty minutes, mostly via side streets and alleys where there was no traffic, but where a single trash bin could make the road too narrow for us to continue until somebody got out and moved it. We probably traveled about three miles all told, moving deeper into the heart of the city with every turn we took.

Fae Libraries—capital letter intentional—are strange things, both like and unlike their mortal equivalents. You can’t just walk in and request a Library card; unless you’ve been invited by the current Librarian, you can’t walk in at all. All Libraries are constructed in shallowings, space scooped out in the thin membrane between the Summerlands and the mortal world. The doors are hard to find and constantly moving, thanks to the enchantments built into the walls. The only way to get inside is to have a Library card, or to get one of the Librarians to give you permission. Prior to meeting Li Qin and being introduced to Mags, I had never seen a Library. Now, it seemed we couldn’t go six months without my paying a visit.

Last time we’d dropped by, the Library had been concealed behind a secondhand bookstore that had looked like it was on the verge of crumbling into utter disrepair. Despite the fact that the new set of directions had taken us into a completely different neighborhood, we found ourselves in front of that same filthy, rundown bookstore when we pulled up at the address that Mags had provided. Even the doorway had moved, bringing with it a wealth of splinters and ancient spiderwebs.

“Huh,” I said, getting out of the car. Tybalt and Quentin followed. “Anybody want to bet that none of the neighbors have noticed this place?”

“I do not take what you call ‘sucker bets,’” said Tybalt, wrinkling his nose at the condition of the store window. “I do, however, feel the distinct need to put on gloves before I touch anything.”

I paused with my hand on the doorknob, looking back at him. “I don’t remember you being this concerned with the condition of the place the last time we were here.”

“You had just been exiled the last time we came to the Library,” he said, in a reasonable tone. “I am taking this situation very seriously, and yet for once, we are not in such a state of immediate crisis that I am unable to appreciate the little things.”

“We’re in enough crisis for me,” I muttered, and opened the door.

The inside of the bookstore was no better than the outside. A thick layer of dust mixed with glittering pixie-sweat covered every surface, rendering the spines of the books that were stacked in haphazard piles virtually unreadable. Not that I could imagine anyone wanting to read most of them; they were all in that awkward window between “new” and “vintage” where they didn’t really hold any appeal for anyone. A mortal bibliophile might have squawked at the condition they were in, but since no human was ever likely to set foot in this store, that didn’t really matter.

We picked our way between the stacks, all of us going quiet as we concentrated on not knocking anything over. Fae can see in low light, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy, and a little care was required to reach the faintly shimmering doorway on the far wall. It would have been entirely invisible to mortal eyes. I knew that for a fact; I’d been virtually human the last time I’d been here, thanks to a bad combination of goblin fruit and my own powers. I’d only been able to use the door because Tybalt had picked me up and carried me through.