They weren’t anti-human, but they didn’t care about them. Supposedly, they used to give Elite Bellus—the wizard leader of the Midwest—a lot more grief about his desire to work with humans.
Then Adept Medeis became his protegee, and they magically shut up. Adept Medeis probably forced their hand after they failed in their bid to help a different member of House Medeis become the Adept.
It had been a huge scandal as House inheritance was never meddled with. Wizard Houses were somewhat sentient and had their own magic—and ideas.
If the wizards of House Tellier were stupid enough to mess around in the inheritance of an entirely different House, just what kind of sketchy behavior are they capable of pulling?
I exchanged looks with April—or rather, I tried to, but she couldn’t see me giving her a look with my mask on.
“That was very kind of you to take the statue even though they hadn’t asked you about it,” April said.
Gail smiled. “It is rather rare for supernaturals to be involved in human matters. No supernaturals have helped the library before.” Her kind expression froze, and even though I didn’t have vampire-hearing I was pretty sure her heart sped up. “I’m so sorry, I’ve misspoke! We do occasionally receive monetary donations from the Curia Cloisters, which we are very thankful for!”
Gail looked from me, to April, to Binx. Binx’s expression had relaxed enough that she gave the librarian a little nod, which seemed to reassure Gail enough that she leaned back in her chair. “What I meant to say is individual supernaturals aren’t donating to the library—which they don’t need to feel obligated to do as I imagine you all contribute to the sums the Cloisters donate. We are very honored whenever supernaturals choose to use the library—we actually have a few wizards on staff.”
She’s saying they took the donation because it was the first time individual supernaturals donated anything—even if it was a weird statue.
“You said the statue burned in the fire?” I asked. “What stone was it made of?”
“I’m afraid I’m not certain what kind of material it was,” Gail said. “I do know it was hollow—that was why they could carry it with just a few wizards. Unfortunately, that’s also probably why the statue was so easily destroyed. Between the artistic cracks and the hollow core, it seems like the fire devoured it. Perhaps it was made of marble—you know it was discovered in Rome that ancient statues were often broken and then burned in a lime-kiln to make lime—oh, there I go spouting facts again! I do beg your pardon.” Gail laughed breezily, and her book earrings clattered with the happy sound.
I picked at a detail that bothered me. “It was the only statue destroyed in the fire?”
“Correct. The other sculptures in the garden were bronze-cast statues that were donated when the library was built,” Gail said. “They’re made of real bronze, so they are very durable.”
“I see.” I glanced at April, but she seemed to be stewing and wasn’t inclined to ask any more questions. “Then—I know it’s dark and we might not be able to see anything—do you mind if we take a look around the wreckage?”
“By all means, please do.” Gail stood up, a wrinkle of worry connecting her eyebrows. “I hope you’ll tell us if you find anything. The firemen said they found no proof of arson, so we have virtually no idea how the fire started.”
“Yes.” I nodded as I tucked my hands behind my back. “We will.”
It’s not very likely, though, given that Brody and Binx smelled all over the place last night, but I suppose Binx might pick something up with the fire out and less smoke in the area.
Binx must have sensed my thoughts as she eyed me as she rocked to her feet, then peered at the librarian and sighed. “I’m a shifter,” she gruffly volunteered. “I’ll see if I can smell anything. If a shifter can’t, then there was nothing there.”
This seemed to reassure Gail, whose shoulders dropped. “Thank you. I hate to think the fire was started for any nefarious reason—and I deeply doubt such a thing would happen. But it is delightful to have supernaturals extend so much help for this incident.”
I shifted my feet, feeling more than a little unchivalrous—supernaturals were only involved because the whole thing was sketchy, and we didn’t want humans fearing us.
It’s self-serving. And I can’t even offer my help as a normal citizen since I’m hiding the fact that I’m a vampire slayer.
The intercom speaker system in the library briefly buzzed before a mechanical voice announced, “The library will be closing in thirty minutes.”
“We will head outside to check the garden, then.” I awkwardly felt along my belt, finding the tiny pouch that had some business cards with the task force’s contact information on it. “Here. If something new happens, contact us.”
“I will.” Gail took the card and smiled. “Thank you so much. Have a good evening—and I hope to see you here again, as a patron.”
We said our goodbyes before trekking outside to the ruined garden.
The drizzle had let up, but it left puddles in the dips in the asphalt.
Between the parking lot lights and the spotlights, the gardens were decently lit up, but my night vision still made it easier to see as I checked over the ruin. All plant life had been burnt to ash. When I set a booted foot on some crispy-fried-grass, it set off a little plume of ash twirling through the air despite the dampness, and the smell of smoke was still so overwhelming it made my eyes water.
“Brody and I didn’t smell anything besides wizard magic last night.” Binx followed behind me. “But even after the fire was out, the firefighters wouldn’t let us close to the wreckage.” She paused, then added, her voice low and rough, “My sense of smell isn’t nearly as good as his, so even if there is something here I might not catch it.”
I headed deeper into the garden, noting the damage so I could add it into my report. The patches of grass would grow back, but I was pretty sure the burnt husks that had once been bushes were dead, though maybe the beds of burnt flowers would return next year. “It’s fine.” I said in response to Binx’s statement.
Her sense of smell wasn’t as good as a werewolf’s, but it was still enormously better than a typical human’s, and it would surely be enough to scent the place out.
We passed by one of the bronze statues that had survived the fire. It looked gloomy and kind of scary with all the shadows the invasive darkness of night had cast on it. I studied it—looking for signs of damage—then I glanced back at Binx and April.
April was looking around, but Binx was staring at the ground and had her arms wrapped around her waist.