Over him, and around him, and through him.
“No!” I screamed.
Chapter Eighteen
“I like Detective Smithy,” said Millicent while I was trying to calm myself after my disturbing phone call with Billy Turner.
“So do I.”
“But he will be of no help to us, child. Only witches, or something more powerful, can save Billy Turner now.”
I nodded. I knew that. The detective was barely a believer. And he had no experience in the supernatural.
“I hated seeing what happened to Billy tonight while we spoke on the phone. I should go over there. Fight that thing. Get Billy out of the house.”
“You must rest tonight, recharge your batteries and let the answers come to you. You cannot fight a demon when you are fighting sleep.”
I realized she was right. I was exhausted and in no shape to deal with a demon tonight. “Can the demon even be defeated?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“But how?”
We were in the kitchen, but as I spoke, I headed into my bedroom, which was down a short hall, and to the left. In the blink of an eye, my clothing was off and the most comfy pajamas I could imagine were on. Moments later, I was in bed, hugging my favorite pillow. Lying across from me was a dead woman.
She waited for me to get comfy before speaking. “I don’t know, child.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? You’re dead. You have access to all of the knowledge in the spirit world.”
“I am limited to what I can show you. But that is not the case here.”
“What is the case here?” I asked. My eyes were getting heavy, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to sleep. How did one sleep just hours after speaking to an honest-to-God demon through the mouth of a possessed Englishman? I didn’t know. I suspected sleep would come in fits and starts, if at all.
“I do not know how to vanquish a demon, child.”
“The triad has never done it in the past?”
“No, Allison.”
“Well, shi—oot.”
Yes, I barely caught myself, although Millicent still frowned a little. Having a ghost lying by me in bed, frowning at my near-use of a semi-foul word should have been surreal and frightening, but I guess even I was finally getting used to it. But barely. The hair on my arms was still standing on end. I didn’t think my natural reaction to ghosts would ever go away.
“Maybe we shouldn’t worry about vanquishing the demon and all that. Let’s just convince the city to tear down the home. Maybe it will just, you know, go away,” I suggested hopefully. I was getting even sleepier.
“You’re grasping at straws because you fear to face the demon. You know that is not the answer, child.”
“What is the answer?” I asked, feeling a sick dread come over me.
“This experience was brought to you to grow, to learn from, and to help another. More importantly, I suspect this situation was brought to you, specifically, to help rid the Earth of this creature.”
“There’s so much I don’t understand,” I said.
“There is much to learn, child.”
“But this thing is so...dangerous.”
“And so are we, child.”
“You will help me?” I asked.
“Of course. Myself, and one other.”
“Ivy,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, child.”
“It doesn’t seem right to call her up and ask what she’s up to, then see if she’s free to help us destroy a demon.”
“She is reckless and wild and more than up for this little adventure,” said Millicent.
“Okay,” I said drowsily. “I’ll give her a call tomorrow.”
What I didn’t add was: I hope it’s not too late.
“Good,” said Millicent. “But first—”
I cut her off. “But first, we need to know how to destroy the demon.”
“Yes, child.”
I suddenly grinned. “I might know someone who has an idea.”
And with that, my eyes closed and the static electricity in the room, energy created by the ghost of Millicent, faded away, too.
I slept like a baby.
A baby who dreamed of monsters and shadows and things that went bump in the night.
Sigh.
Chapter Nineteen
He was called The Librarian.
At least, that’s what Samantha Moon called him. What he was, exactly, was anyone’s guess. However, Sam had informed me that, more than likely, he was on the side of good...and that was good enough for me. She also told me that he might have answers for me. And that was even better.
Mostly, she’d warned me that I might never find him. She’d said that the Librarian—whose real name was Archibald Maximus, which was about the fanciest name I’d ever heard—didn’t always reveal himself. She’d said that only those who were ready could find him. She’d said that even those looking for the Occult Room on the third floor of the Cal State Fullerton Library would never find it.
That sounded like a challenge, so, of course, I headed over there.
In fact, when I asked the clerk at the library help desk downstairs how to find the Occult Room, she only shrugged and said she’d never heard of it.
I frowned at that, and then headed over to the elevators, and pressed the button to the third floor. When the door opened, I followed Sam’s instructions and headed to the west wall, away from where many students were working. I looked for a side room, an annex, as Sam had called it.
There was nothing there. Just one, long empty wall. I walked along it, searching, running my hand over it. I did the only thing I could think of; I asked Millicent to intercede for me, to seek out this Librarian and let him know that I needed help. I reached the end of the hallway, and turned back.
And, suddenly, where there had been nothing but a blank wall, there was now a door along the west wall, an arched opening with the words “OCCULT READING ROOM” over the top.
I think my mouth might have dropped open.
I took in a lot of air, headed back down the hallway, and hung a right into the reading room, noting that my heart was beating faster than it had in some time.
* * *
The Occult Reading Room didn’t look like something out of Hogwarts, or like something that might have been found in Dracula’s castle. There weren’t paintings whose eyes—or even faces—turned to watch me as I walked past. And the Librarian wasn’t a grizzled old wizard with a long beard and twinkle in his eye.
No, the Librarian was a young man, dressed smartly in a trim suit—it was a generic suit that seemed timeless and could have, in fact, been from any number of designers. Either way, it fit him perfectly. His smile was warm. His eyes were bright. His hair was neat and trim and his fingers were long and strong. He could have been a college student working in the Occult Reading Room, except that he wasn’t. What he was, I still didn’t know.