Lanky teen in a heavy black hoodie drifted back and forth in front of the vid coretex gaming controllers, the old man who always wears the maroon skullcap was ruffling his newspaper, a few patrons were tapping away on their laptops in the battered study corrals, Shai, the Community Outreach Coordinatoor, was updating the website, and a gaggle of pre-schoolers were playing up downstairs. Shai considered helping out Miss Entwhistle with the rowdy bunch of arts and crafters but then thought better of it.

The Annual Auction was off to a rocky start. With a knowing eye on the potentially sticky fingered teen, Shai drafted a slightly pleading message to donors to encourage more auction items. Vintage Stanley cups and genetically modified hamster succulents were not going to keep the lights on. Suddenly in the coolly comfortable main reading room, Shai shivered. Icicle fingers prickled up her back as if she was being watched. Rubbing her bare arms, the librarian turned hoping it was one of the volunteers coming up behind her to ask a question. No one was there. A hot breath brushed the nape of Shai’s neck. Shai reeled. A patron waited in front of her.

Removing his fedora, the patron nodded. Funny I didn’t hear any of the exterior door alerts, Shai thought as she painted on a friendly smile. Medium height, medium weight, dark brown hair in a low ponytail, a little pale, with jet black eyes no whites not irises just glistening black, the patron mirrored her smile. Sharp intake of breath, Shai held on to the tatters of her smile. Probably just those AI spooky contacts some of the kids were wearing now, or maybe a body modification like IT guy Kyle’s sick new horns, Shai said to herself, trying and failing to shake the fear this mostly ordinary patron was drawing fromm her.

“May I help you?”

“Doubtful, my tastes are …,” the patron replied, “quite specific.”

Like a curious bird, he turned his head and studied her with his black marble eyes. Shai knew this man somehow. The thought of this man’s identity was a book on the highest shelf. One of Fitzgerald’s friends, no; a library patron, no, Shai reached for the memory.

**“Well I am quite** … resourceful. What do you seek? You look classic literature genre mystery. How does curling up to The Woman in White sound?”

Smirking, the patron stepped closer to the main desk. Instinctively Shai jumped back. Settling his hat on her keyboard, the patron stared deep into Shai’s eyes. Lightning fast, he loomed over her, his mouth by her ear.

**“I want a book that hasn’t been written yet but needs to be.”**

**Shai took a ragged breath **as a torrent of jumbled memories sliced her left eye. Someone stole something precious from her. It was a memory of Jamie and what she survived and he didn’t.

“The Brotherhood of Truth, Exposed, Mr. Pemberley.”

Her words tumbled out. Her memories slipped through her hands like wet soap. Shai knew she had to fight for kids like her brother. Blinking, Shai wiped away an angry tear. Setting his fedora to a rakish angle, the patron was across the main foyer opening the door.

“Excellent, you know me so well, Ms. Wuthering. Let me when that comes in.”

Shai blinked again and Pemberley was gone. Carrying a stack of comics, the teen made an excuse me sound. The old man with the skullcap snored behind his newspaper. Shai waved the kid towards her. On her keyboard there was a bookmarked copy of Wilkie Collins’ The Dead Secret.