Cauldrons & Characters: A Library Witch Mystery Book 15 (Paperback)

“Sylvester, can you please get off the tree?” I leaned over the balcony and shooed the owl away from the top of the towering Christmas tree that now dominated the lobby. It’d taken the better part of the morning to put the tree up, and we’d scarcely started the actual decorating before Sylvester had planted himself on top and began singing carols at full volume.

Preparing for Christmas in a magical library inevitably came with chaos as a built-in expectation, but I didn’t recall the owl being this much of a nuisance last year. If anything, I’d assumed setting up the tree a few weeks early would dampen the excitement a bit. Sylvester had already eaten an entire roll of tinsel, which might have given me cause for concern if he’d been a real owl and not the embodiment of the library’s entire store of knowledge. One would think that fact would mean he didn’t need to bother himself with such mundane things as human holidays, but he never passed up an opportunity to claim his spot as the centre of attention.

“Sylvester, can’t you go and help the visitors instead?” Estelle called up to him. My cousin stood at the bottom of the tree, holding the other end of the tinsel we were draping around its branches in one hand and her wand in the other. Curvy and tall like her mother, she shared the same red curly hair common to all our family members, and we wore the same silver-lined black cloaks embossed with the family’s logo of an owl sitting atop a book beneath a pair of crossed wands. 

“I did.” He fluttered onto the balcony and spread out his tawny wings. “I sent them to the Dimensional Studies Section.”

“You didn’t, did you?” I never could tell whether the owl was joking or not. Nobody ever went into that section of the library voluntarily. It was the sort of place you fell into while trying to get somewhere else. “If you did, can you please get them out of there? We’re busy.”

“Allow me to solve that for you.” Sylvester leaned over the balcony and grabbed the end of the tinsel in his mouth, tugging it loose from the tree.

“Sylvester!” I lifted my wand and cast a quick levitation charm, and the tinsel came to a halt in midair before it all went tumbling down onto Estelle’s head. “What was that for?”

“Don’t you want to help your visitors?” he enquired.

“You’re the one who trapped them in there—if you aren’t having me on.” I levitated the tinsel back into its proper place. “I realise it’s a bit early for Christmas decorations, but I thought we needed some holiday cheer after everything we’ve been through recently.”

After the turmoil of the last few months, I would have expected even Sylvester to agree. In fairness, he didn’t seem to find the holidays themselves objectionable, only our choice of décor. It also didn’t help that Estelle and I had ended up handling most of it alone, as Aunt Adelaide was busy handing out textbooks to students cramming for end-of-term exams while Cass and Aunt Candace never volunteered themselves to help with anything most of the time. Jet, my crow familiar, did his part by flying around hanging up baubles alongside Spark, Estelle’s pixie sidekick, while singing carols in squeaky voices. Unfortunately, neither of them was a match for Sylvester. He offered a loud cackle in answer.

“What’s he done now?” Estelle called up to me. 

“Supposedly he led some people to the Dimensional Studies Section,” I replied. “I’ll get them out. I’m closer than you are.” 

“Are you sure?” She frowned at Sylvester. “That’s a bit much, even for you.”

“It’s a harmless prank,” he retorted. “I thought you were trying to lighten the mood.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “Honestly. If you’re sure, Rory. I’ll wait here.”

“Don’t cause any more trouble while I’m gone,” I warned the owl. As far as pranks went, it wasn’t his worst, but the Dimensional Studies Section was disorientating at best, not to mention mildly traumatising for the unprepared. “I’ll be right back.”

I was already on the second-floor balcony, so it was a simple matter to climb the nearby staircase and track down the elusive area that was halfway between the second and third floors. With an interdimensional corridor, it was a tad difficult to pin down its exact location. When I stepped off the stairs, I found my feet planted on a carpet patterned with spirals that moved in time with my steps and made my head spin to look at. On either side stood a row of shifting bookshelves that also constantly moved, shifting sideways and up and down as if they were on some kind of multidimensional conveyer belt. Which wasn’t that inaccurate. Needless to say, I’d never actually read any of the books in here. If the pages were as unpredictable as the shelves, it would be a headache and a half trying to make sense of their contents.

I found the unfortunate visitors—a pair of twenty-something witches maybe a year or so out of university—clinging to a ladder propped against the shelves to keep from being swept away by the sliding carpet. With each jolt of the shelves behind the ladder, they let out shrieks of alarm. I moved that way.

When the floor lurched sideways, I gave it a stern look. “Hey, stop that.” 

“Help us!” yelled one of the witches.

Really, Sylvester? I braced my feet, and the carpet mercifully came to a halt. After nearly a year in the library, I’d grown wise to some of its tricks, including this one.

“Hang on,” I called to the witches. “I’ll get you out of here.”

The corridor responded with another sideways lurch that caused me to stumble, hands grabbing for the shelf to catch my balance before I fell into an undignified face-plant. “Whoa.” 

“You work here?” asked one of the witches, who had bottle-blond hair and the sort of pale complexion that I associated with people like my aunt Candace, who spent all her time indoors hunched over a desk. “Can you tell us where the secret corridor is?”

“The what?” I very nearly did lose my balance then. “You were looking for a secret corridor?”

“The secret corridor,” said her equally pasty companion, who had a vibrant streak of pink in her dark hair. “We heard a rumour at the pub that you have a secret corridor containing a book that can grant your heart’s desire.”

“A book that can what?” I sounded like a broken record, but the words “secret corridor” put together with “heart’s desire” set off a cascade of warning bells in my head. Nobody outside of the library was supposed to know the fourth-floor corridor existed, nor what it could achieve, and its cranky guardian enforced that rule with brutal efficiency. “Nope. Whoever told you that was lying. There’s no such thing as a book that can grant your heart’s desire. If there was, it wouldn’t be such a huge secret, would it?”

Not my best diversion, but I’d been at least partially honest. The wish-granting didn’t come from a book but from a hidden door in a corridor that had gone missing for decades until its recent rediscovery. 

“I told you it was nonsense, Corrine.” The first witch poked the second in the arm and then gave a shrill scream when the shelf lurched upward and carried the ladder with it. 

Both witches were sent flying into the air, as though propelled from a trampoline, and I hastily lifted my wand and cast a levitation spell before they hit the ground. I could have used my Biblio-Witch Inventory instead, but that would require two hands, and I didn’t quite dare let go of the shelf. They landed on the swirling carpet and held on to the nearby shelf for dear life.

Now that I knew what the pair of witches were looking for, I understood why Sylvester had sent them somewhere they wouldn’t be able to cause trouble, but I could hardly leave them stuck in here all day. Being semi-sentient, the library itself reacted against people it didn’t want probing into its secrets, but a pair of overly curious witches didn’t deserve to face the wrath of the corridor’s guardian.

“It is nonsense,” I repeated, hoping the library would get the message and help me get them out before they could cause any more agitation. “I’m not going to pretend the library doesn’t have hidden nooks and crannies since we’re standing in one right now, but plainly there’s nothing in here that can offer your heart’s desire. Unless your desire is to go into the fifth dimension and never come out.”

Okay, I’d made the last part up, but Sylvester had frequently claimed the Dimensional Studies Section did contain dimensions not visible to the human eye. While most of his claims were outright nonsense, some did hold a kernel of truth, and I’d learned not to cast limits on what a semi-sentient library was capable of.

“We just wanted to look!” squeaked Corrine. “Can you help us out of here? I promise we won’t come back.”

“I can try.” I faced the shelves and spoke clearly to the library. “You can let them go now. They won’t come up here again.” 

The library showed no signs of having heard me, but its communication style was obtuse at best. My grandmother had created the place to be semi-sentient, but since she’d died without leaving clear instructions—not to mention a map—we were still uncovering new secrets every week. 

With a creak that sounded like a sigh, the shelves stopped their dizzying shuffle, and the ladder settled on the ground, letting the witches climb down. They took off at a run, and I followed closely behind as they emerged, gasping, onto the main staircase. Once I was sure they were going down to the lobby, I returned to the second floor. Sylvester remained perched on the balcony where I’d left him, a smug expression on his face.

“You might’ve mentioned they were trying to get into that corridor,” I whispered to him. “I’d have got rid of them myself.”

“Ah, but a visit to the Dimensional Studies Section leaves more of an impression, doesn’t it?”

“All right, you win.” I returned to the tree. “Let’s get this tinsel sorted. Do you promise to behave, Sylvester?”

The owl shuffled his feathers in answer.

“Everything okay up there?” Estelle peered up at me from below with a questioning look on her face.

“Yeah—I’ll explain later.” Best to get this over with before Sylvester decided to wrap me in tinsel again, mummy style, as he’d done on our first attempt at decorating.

This time, we got off lightly, and he let Estelle and me finish draping the tinsel around the tree without doing much except stealing a few baubles.

“He’s more of a magpie than an owl,” Estelle remarked when she saw him soar out of sight. “I hope he doesn’t try eating those.”

“Don’t give him ideas.” At least we had no shortage of spares. The library was massive enough that it would take a week to decorate all three main floors. As well as smaller trees being put on each floor, the shelves would be topped with tinsel, holly would be entwined along the balconies and stairs, and fake snowflakes would drift gently over the lobby. 

The fourth floor, however, would remain decoration free—and hopefully, free of overly curious visitors too. Heard a rumour at the pub, did they? My aunt Adelaide would certainly want to know about that one.

“All we need to do now is put the angel on top,” Estelle said. “Ready?”

“Sure, I’ll get it.” I looked in the box and found a dead mouse in place of the angel. “Oh, charming. Sylvester?”

“Yes?” His tone was sugary enough to give me a toothache.

“Sylvester, did you steal the angel?”

The owl gave me an affronted look. “I stole nothing.”

“Come on.” I frowned at him. “What’s the problem? You have free run—or flight—of the entire library. We’re not encroaching on your space.”

“I never said you were.” 

“Why steal the angel?” Estelle tilted her head. “Do you want us to put an owl on top of the tree instead? Is that it?”

I stifled a laugh. “That’s it, isn’t it? You hate not being the centre of attention.”

The tree gave an alarming lurch sideways, shedding tinsel. I pointed my wand at it, hastily, one eye on Sylvester.

“I wasn’t trying to make fun of you,” I said quickly. “But you know, people kinda expect an angel to be on top of the tree. Or you can have your own tree instead?”

The tree stopped lurching, settling back into place in a clatter of baubles. “That may suffice.”

“Can’t the Forbidden Room conjure one up?” The room, which was the owl’s true domain, made the Dimensional Studies Section look like a harmless cupboard in comparison. Its magic seemed to hold no bounds, and it operated under the simple rule that each of our family members got to ask one question per day and the owl would answer, generally with conditions. With that kind of power at his disposal, you’d think he’d be able to summon up a Christmas tree.

“Nobody ever asks what I want,” he said with a wistful sigh.

“There’s no need to be dramatic.” All right, fine. It was a waste of a question, but since I got one per day and I didn’t have anything else I wanted to ask for urgently today, using up my question was a small price to pay for the chance to decorate the real tree in peace. “If I do as you ask, will you put the angel back where it’s supposed to be?”

“Consider it done.” 

“Good.” I peered over the balcony. “Estelle, is the Book of Questions down there?”

“Should be. What does he want?”

“His own Christmas tree.” Not covered in dead rodents, I hoped. I’d decided compromising was the best option, but that owl truly was perplexing sometimes. “He did me a favour when he got rid of those witches.”

Probably he thought I owed him one in exchange too.

Estelle’s brow wrinkled. “We have room for two, but we might have to do some rearranging.”

“I’ll figure it out.” I made my way to the stairs, which curved all the way down to the ground floor. An identical staircase lay on the library’s opposite side, stopping off at each of the library’s three main floors and offering an impressive view of the shelves below. The ground floor also contained a number of large tables and classrooms for students to use for group projects and the ever-popular Reading Corner encased in the middle of the Fiction Section near the back. We’d planned to put the tree just to the left of the Reading Corner so that it was in full view of the library’s most popular corner, but I’d have to ask Aunt Adelaide if she minded shunting it over to make room for another one. I’d also tell her about the two witches’ unexpected visit while I was at it too.

The universe said otherwise. I was halfway to the first floor when a loud hissing noise came from above, sounding somewhere between a giant serpent and a gas leak. What in the world was that? 

Estelle came running to the stairs. “What’s going on?”

“No clue,” I called down to her. “It sounded like an animal.”

My other cousin’s penchant for rescuing magical beasts and bringing them to the library was well known, but a giant snake was a new one. Don’t tell me she found a basilisk this time. Or a wyrm. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Estelle hurried up two flights of stairs to join me, and we made our way upward to the library’s topmost floor.

Well, almost at the top. The third floor was the location of both the Magical Creatures Division—where Cass spent the majority of her time looking after her array of magical pets—and the door to the once-missing fourth-floor corridor. A strange noise from either of those places was bad news, but a new magical monster was at least a vaguely known factor. My heart sank when another hissing noise filled the air, louder than the first. 

“Was that the fourth floor?” Apparently so. “Please tell me Aunt Candace isn’t trying to get through the doors again.”

Most of the doors upstairs were locked even to our family members. The notable exception was a door that would grant us any wish we desired, once per day, like the Book of Questions. I wasn’t sure who had come up with the idea first—Sylvester or my grandmother—and the owl had insinuated that I’d be better off avoiding that question if I wanted my eyeballs to stay where they were supposed to be. 

Bracing myself, I crossed the third floor, ducking around shelves full of books covered in fur, feathers, and fangs. Some growled at me when I walked past, and others had escaped their shelves, as though scrambling to avoid whatever had made that hissing noise. While Estelle hastened to put them back into place, I spied Cass exiting the fourth-floor corridor, her red hair tied back in its usual messy bun and her glasses perched on the end of her nose. Willowy and tall like Aunt Candace, she always smelled faintly of animals—not that she’d appreciate me pointing that out. 

“What’s going on?” I asked her. “What were you doing up there? Not summoning a basilisk, I hope.”

Please, no. Cass had been surprisingly disinterested in the corridor’s wish-granting powers, but I knew that seeming lack of curiosity would only last until she took a fancy to a new magical monster that she couldn’t obtain through any normal means.

“A basilisk?” Interest gleamed in her eyes. “No, but if I wanted one of those, I could just buy an egg.”

“Please don’t.” Estelle caught up to me. “What’s going on?”

Cass blew out a breath. “Yeah… Aunt Candace has a dead body up there.”

“She has a what?” 

Estelle and I exchanged alarmed looks. Had someone else trespassed upstairs? I’d thought the guardian wanted to avoid drawing attention to the library’s secrets, and surely even Cass would have had more of a reaction if someone was actually dead.

Cass shrugged and stepped aside as I ran through the door, my pulse racing.

At the top of the stairs stood my aunt Candace. She and Cass shared the same tall willowy frame, except instead of drab colours, our aunt usually dressed in bright flowery dresses. The notebook and pen that usually floated at her side were conspicuously absent.

She also did indeed stand next to a body—or something that strongly resembled one. A broad-shouldered, dark-haired man lay face down on the floor outside the door to the wish-granting room, and while I could only see the back of his head, he didn’t look familiar to me in the least.

“What did you do?” I asked Aunt Candace. 

From the pen she held in her hand, I could only assume she’d written a wish on the door to the room, but why would it have given her a dead body in exchange? “Don’t tell me you went too far while doing book research on the best ways to murder someone.”

“He isn’t dead,” she said. “Well, not that dead anyway.”

“He looks dead to me.” Estelle peered at the back of his head. “Aunt Candace, who is he?”

“I’d have thought you’d recognise him,” she said to her niece. “His name is Jaxon Hyde.”

“What?” Estelle goggled at the man. “Jaxon Hyde? You mean from that paranormal romance series of yours?”

“He came from one of your books?” My attention jerked over to the open door to the wishing room. “Seriously?”

“Technically, he came from the small town of Moonfang Cliff.”

Estelle groaned. “You conjured up one of your book characters?”

Surely, she hadn’t intended for him to be dead when he showed up, and while a dead body in the library wasn’t ideal, nobody here would know who he was. How would reporting a fictional dead body even work, without getting into the infinitely more tangled question of how real a character who’d come out of a book truly was?

“Why?” Judging by the man’s casual clothing, he wasn’t from one of her fantasy worlds where everyone walked around dressed in armour, but that didn’t mean he would have been remotely equipped for this world if he’d come out of that room living and breathing. “Why him?”

“To revive my love life, of course,” said Aunt Candace. “The real men in town are a disappointment, and I thought… well, the room’s right here, isn’t it?”

“You conjured up a book character to go on a date with?” She had to be joking. “You used the room’s powerful magic on something as trivial as that?”

“Cass used the room to dispose of a large quantity of manticore dung the other day.”

Lovely. 

“That’s not remotely the same,” I said. “Would he get a say in whether he goes on a date with you or not?”

“Obviously,” she said. “Granted, I’ll have to come back tomorrow and ask the room to bring me a living version instead of a dead one, but this is progress, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Estelle. “You’re going to put that man back right now and never try anything like this again.”

“I can’t,” she said with a touch of smugness. “The door only opens once a day.”

“For each of us,” I corrected. “We each get one wish per day, which means one of us can get rid of him.” 

“Exactly.” Estelle stepped in. “This is out of the question, Aunt Candace. You can’t bring a fictional character to life, let alone a vampire.”

“He’s a vampire?” Wait a moment. If he was anything like the kind of vampires that existed in real life, moving and breathing weren’t necessarily prerequisites for being alive—if the term even applied to vampires in the regular sense. “Are you sure he’s—” 

Aunt Candace grinned. “Now she gets it.”

That was when the man stirred.