slavering dog blocking my path. Cerberus. Contrary to myth, the guardian beast didn’t have three heads. Like a lot of legends, it’s a fanciful version of the truth. Not three heads, but three dogs—the Cerberi, each facing a different direction, blocking all points of entry to Hell. Well, actually, it’s a library, but close enough.
I pulled out my sword. Cerberus One sat, then stretched out, head on his paws, whimpering softly. Two and Three did the same, maintaining position, guarding the west and east.
“Good girls,” I said as I walked up.
I paused to scratch behind One’s massive ears. She made a deep noise in her throat that Trsiel insisted was a growl, but I knew was more of a purr, her big head tilting, giving me better scratch-access. The other two looked over hopefully. I patted them, too. I’m not really a dog person, but it’s wise to befriend the gatekeepers, especially when they have fangs the size of my forearms.
“You gals still going to let me past if I don’t have this?”
I waved my sword. Cerberus One chuffed and grumbled and prodded my hand for more ear-scratching. I took this as a positive sign.
Returning my sword to my back, I headed up the vast marble steps of the Great Library of Alexandria. Yes, that Great Library, the one Caesar accidentally torched while burning the Egyptian fleets. Whoops.
As I said, though, in the ghost world, areas are sometimes frozen in periods of time, usually their zenith. So we still had the Great Library, though, as the monster guard dogs might suggest, it’s not open to the public.
I have an uneasy relationship with the Great Library. It really can be my version of Hell—endless aisles of moldy books that the Fates banish me to every time I get a new assignment. As a kid, I hated it when teachers told me to go look something up, and I appreciate it even less now. When I want answers, I like to track them down through my network of contacts. The Fates don’t like that, which probably has something to do with the suitability of those contacts.
But books have their place, namely as repositories of arcane spells, and for that, nothing beats the Great Library. I can find more here in an afternoon than I could in years hunting through black-market grimoire shops. The Fates themselves didn’t know all the books these vast halls contained, meaning I often found real dark magic gems.
Within these walls I could also find books on demonology that would lead me to Armaros. That would take hours, days even. Instead, I walked through the special reference collection, past all the marble-topped tables and gray-haired scholars, and slipped into a secret passage to the very special collection, one that contained a single, priceless reference.
The hall was a typical government office corridor, lined with unnamed, locked doors, guaranteed to convince any wanderers that they’d taken a wrong turn. A little farther along, though, and the faint perfume of tropical flowers wafted past on a mist-laden breeze. The burble of running water, growing louder until a waterfall blocked the passage. I kept going. I got soaked—the water was real—but a quick spell dried me off, and I found myself in a grotto filled with flowers and birds and butterflies. Don’t ask me to name any of them—I know only that they were spectacular enough for me to slow down and admire, and it takes a lot to slow me down.
In the center of the grotto, a dark-haired man sat under a tree, poring over a stained book. He didn’t glance up as I approached, simply lifted a hand, waving as if in greeting and I smacked into the invisible magical barrier he erected. He finished his page, then glanced over.
“Ah, Eve. Come in.” Another wave and the barrier vanished. “Here to see Delphia?”
“I am.” I reached into my pocket and took out an amulet.
His gray eyes widened. “Is that—?”
“Uh-huh.”
A grin creased his
I pulled out my sword. Cerberus One sat, then stretched out, head on his paws, whimpering softly. Two and Three did the same, maintaining position, guarding the west and east.
“Good girls,” I said as I walked up.
I paused to scratch behind One’s massive ears. She made a deep noise in her throat that Trsiel insisted was a growl, but I knew was more of a purr, her big head tilting, giving me better scratch-access. The other two looked over hopefully. I patted them, too. I’m not really a dog person, but it’s wise to befriend the gatekeepers, especially when they have fangs the size of my forearms.
“You gals still going to let me past if I don’t have this?”
I waved my sword. Cerberus One chuffed and grumbled and prodded my hand for more ear-scratching. I took this as a positive sign.
Returning my sword to my back, I headed up the vast marble steps of the Great Library of Alexandria. Yes, that Great Library, the one Caesar accidentally torched while burning the Egyptian fleets. Whoops.
As I said, though, in the ghost world, areas are sometimes frozen in periods of time, usually their zenith. So we still had the Great Library, though, as the monster guard dogs might suggest, it’s not open to the public.
I have an uneasy relationship with the Great Library. It really can be my version of Hell—endless aisles of moldy books that the Fates banish me to every time I get a new assignment. As a kid, I hated it when teachers told me to go look something up, and I appreciate it even less now. When I want answers, I like to track them down through my network of contacts. The Fates don’t like that, which probably has something to do with the suitability of those contacts.
But books have their place, namely as repositories of arcane spells, and for that, nothing beats the Great Library. I can find more here in an afternoon than I could in years hunting through black-market grimoire shops. The Fates themselves didn’t know all the books these vast halls contained, meaning I often found real dark magic gems.
Within these walls I could also find books on demonology that would lead me to Armaros. That would take hours, days even. Instead, I walked through the special reference collection, past all the marble-topped tables and gray-haired scholars, and slipped into a secret passage to the very special collection, one that contained a single, priceless reference.
The hall was a typical government office corridor, lined with unnamed, locked doors, guaranteed to convince any wanderers that they’d taken a wrong turn. A little farther along, though, and the faint perfume of tropical flowers wafted past on a mist-laden breeze. The burble of running water, growing louder until a waterfall blocked the passage. I kept going. I got soaked—the water was real—but a quick spell dried me off, and I found myself in a grotto filled with flowers and birds and butterflies. Don’t ask me to name any of them—I know only that they were spectacular enough for me to slow down and admire, and it takes a lot to slow me down.
In the center of the grotto, a dark-haired man sat under a tree, poring over a stained book. He didn’t glance up as I approached, simply lifted a hand, waving as if in greeting and I smacked into the invisible magical barrier he erected. He finished his page, then glanced over.
“Ah, Eve. Come in.” Another wave and the barrier vanished. “Here to see Delphia?”
“I am.” I reached into my pocket and took out an amulet.
His gray eyes widened. “Is that—?”
“Uh-huh.”
A grin creased his
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