The Moonstone (Enchantment Book 1) Read Free Page A

for her, call her, no sign of her anywhere. I go to look in my room and notice that the window is fully closed and latched. There must be another way to get in and I’ll have to find it. I look down at my watch and notice that it’s 3 p.m. Amazing, I slept all day! I’ll deal with the case of the missing Miss Nyx later! Anyways, it’s no big deal if she’s inside as I’m mistress of the house for the next little while.
    I must, however, head over to the library as we are receiving a book this morning that has been on order for months and I want to read it during my vacation. I will probably do so in a violet-scented bubble bath while eating chocolate caramels from Ghirardelli . My father gets them for me by mail order and they are the best in the world. He hides them from me and gives me one whenever he has a favor to ask of me, or if he wants me on his side when he’s in negotiations with my mother. What he doesn’t know is that I know his hiding place and I certainly won’t deprive myself. I should leave, though, or else I won’t be able to read my book tonight. I grab my leather jacket and cellphone and head out the door. I love to walk to work; at my pace, the trip takes me forty-five minutes, which means slow, very slow. I love to listen to music and get into my own little world while getting some fresh air. Woodstock is a small town, not the better-known Woodstock of concert fame, but simply Woodstock, Vermont. The contrast between the forests that surround us and the heritage homes gives the area a pastoral look. It’s magical during the Holiday Season with its Christmas lights in the town center; fall is wonderful with its colorful leaves; but nothing beats summer here. The scent of the summer foliage is intoxicating and the roads are all lined with leafy trees that create an intimate ambiance.
    If I had only one song that I could play in a continuous loop during my walks, and the one that always sticks in my head, it’s Radiohead’s “Creep”. I have always felt as if I were on the margins of society, as if I didn’t belong and I couldn’t be categorized; I feel as if the song were written for me.
    I put on my headset and start off for the library. After quite a few songs, I finally arrive at my destination. I feel so lucky to work in such a lovely place. The library is quite simply magnificent. It was built in 1800 and looks somewhat like an old Norman style church. In fact, this building has a special cachet. When you push open the great big glass entrance doors and spot the wooden vaulted ceiling, the crisscrossing arches and the wooden bookshelves…it never gets old. The thing that pleases me most though is the scent of the books. It is a smell that automatically transports me to a world that is better than reality, one of tales and stories, each one better than the next. In the absolute silence I can almost hear the whispering of the pages.
    The sound of turning pages and footsteps are the only ones admitted here, and believe me, the guardian of the location is very firm on that one. My boss, Gisèle, I never found out her last name, rules the library with an iron fist. She never smiles, not even small ones for approval, she offers only a permanent cold, authoritarian front. She is most impressive to look at: salt and pepper hair pulled into a tight bun at the back, crooked nose punctuated with a wart on the end, a prominent chin and a humpback. She has always inspired fear, and not only in me. As popular as the library is, everyone respects the law of silence in order to avoid the old biddy’s rage. If anyone dares speak or cough, she comes out of her reverie and brandishes her cane while barking at the offender; it’s pretty shocking, let me tell you. I know, I shouldn’t submit to the anger of such a bully, but I can’t see myself doing any other work at the moment, so I do what I can to stay out of her way.
    One of the advantages of working in a library is that I can always get first