"For you," he said. I scanned the titles; they were, unfortunately, more books of vampire politics. He'd already given me lots of books on vampire politics, which seemed to barely scratch the surface of the number of books actually written on vampire politics. We were a political bunch, and we apparently liked to ruminate on that particular obsession.
But he was a man who could help me with my current problem, so I didn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Thank you," I said, and took the books from him. "A question - what can you tel me about the lake siren?"
The librarian made a disdainful sound, then abandoned his cart to head down the aisle.
I stuck the books into an empty spot on a shelf and trailed him down the aisle and across the room to the staircase that led up to the balcony.
I fol owed him up, the staircase so narrow and steep my nose was practical y in the back of his knees. When we reached the N/dite1em">
Thankful y, this wasn't a treatise on politics. It was a book of art, a catalog of paintings of lovely, russet-haired maidens near streams and pools of water.
"These are nymphs and sirens," the librarian explained, flipping through some of the paintings. "Nymphs reside in the rivers. Sirens reside in the lakes. They're the governing supernaturals for those areas. They are embodiments of the essences of the bodies of water. Intimately connected to them, part of them."
"And River trol s do the enforcing for the nymphs?"
"Very good, Sentinel," he said, then frowned absently.
"No known enforcers for the sirens. Both tend to keep to themselves - except for their odd relationships with shifters."
"Powder keg," I suggested.
"A chemical reaction of some kind, certainly. In any event, while the nymphs and shifters have a connection, the nymphs and sirens most definitely do not. Cal it a matter of competition. Nymphs believe rivers are better than lakes: the water's constantly flowing, they move commerce, et cetera. Sirens believe lakes are better than rivers. They hold more volume. They're better for recreation; they support more fishing."
"Lakes versus rivers seems like a minor issue. The nymphs acted like they hated Lorelei."
"It isn't a minor issue when you're a supernatural being tied to the body of water. The nature of that body of water matters."
"And if that water is currently sucking away the city's magic?"
"Then you've got a problem that threatens to destabilize supernatural relations in the city even more."
That wasn't exactly news. "I'm supposed to go visit Lorelei tomorrow. What should I expect?"
The librarian closed the art book again and slid it back onto the shelf, then walked a few feet ahead and slid out a wide, flat drawer that held large sheets of paper. He flipped through them, then beckoned me forward. He'd selected a map of the Great Lakes region, but unlike normal maps, only the bodies of water were labeled.
"The island's rumored to be woody," he said, pointing to a green dot in the middle of Lake Michigan, "but the house wil have to have some kind of water feature. A pool, a waterfal , et cetera. Water isn't just important to a siren - it's a necessity."
"Aquariums?" I wondered. I imagined a wal -sized aquarium fil ed with a rainbow of tropical fish, or maybe a koi pond in the backyard.
The librarian shook his head. "Never aquariums. Water spirits are strong believers that animals should be left in their natural habitats."
"What about strengths? Weaknesses?"
"Both water related. Both nymphs and sirens need to stay in relatively close contact with water, either geographical y or chronological y."
"You mean, they can go for a little while without touching water, or they can go a little bit away from the water, but not for very long."
He nodded. "Exactly. As for powers, they are regulators of the water, which means they can feel it. They understand its health, its problems."
"So if the river's pol uted, it affects S, i feel ithe nymphs?"
"Exactly. I assume this water sickness is affecting them keenly."
I nodded. "They're very upset. They're also getting weaker, and proximity to the water seems to make it worse."
"That's bad news."
I agreed, but didn't yet have a solution. "Anything else?"
"Sirens also have the typical power of water women." He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.
"Seducing and capturing men? Yeah, I feel like I'm pretty safe on that one. That's why I'm flying solo on this one."
With a matter-of-fact nod, he slid the map drawer closed, then pointed back to the shelf of art books. "Grab a few of those and flip through them. Pay attention to the characteristics of the women in the paintings. Their expressions. Their clothing. Are they holding weapons?"
"But these are art books. Are they reliable?"
The librarian snorted. "Al artists have models, Merit. If you're a water spirit, to whom else would you rather reveal yourself than an artist who wil make you immortal? Just keep one thing in mind."
"What's that?"
"If it takes too long to turn the waters back, you may not be able to bring any of them back from the brink."
Not that there was any pressure.
I spent the next few hours doing what any mature adult would do - hiding out in the library so I didn't have to face down the receiver. It's not just that I didn't want to play justify-your-existence with Frank - I didn't want to play justify-your-existence with a man charged with cataloging Ethan's failures.
That was a threshold I didn't want to cross - a bridge between my life with Ethan and my life without him. Not just emotional y, but because Ethan had initiated me into his House and taught me to stand Sentinel.
Frank, on the other hand, was an interloper, an interruption. When I met with him, I'd no longer be able to deny how different things in the House had become. That wasn't an admission I was ready to make.
I also wasn't ready to talk about the night Celina and Ethan had been kil ed. I didn't think it possible that Frank, a GP representative, wouldn't mention my role in the death of two Master vampires. I'd been waiting for the day the GP laid their deaths at my doorstep, blaming me for what had happened even though Tate had been control ing Celina, and Celina had kil ed Ethan. I wasn't looking forward to debriefing him on those events.
So I was seated at a desk in a perfect hiding place, a carrel tucked back in the stacks at the end of a row - almost completely hidden from view.
I was scanning a book of Waterhouse paintings and scribbling notes about the spirits' characteristics when I heard the efficient clip-clap of plastic-soled shoes heading in my direction.