No one ever came down during the day anymore. Her part of the library was buried in the basement, away from harsh sunlight and wandering children. Madeline could hear their steps on the floor above her, the freaks of the aged wood. They made inquiries, booked appointments after hours, but no one ever came in to browse. It just wasn’t that sort of library. The books were far too rare for passers by to thumb through. Some were too old, some too rare, and all too expensive. So, Madeline’s days at work were always quiet. And she liked it that way.

Of course, she still had to be careful. The books were valuable, and a few teenagers had been creating a bit of mischief for her recently. So far, no damage had come to the books, but just this morning she had found graffiti on the stairwell door, in charcoal of all things. She had no trouble washing it off, and the door was still locked, but after taking off her coat and checking the night log, Madeline went to make sure each book was in its place. She usually waited till after lunch to do this, because it relaxed her. She knew them by spine alone, red cracked one here, brown leather there. Each day she checked, each day they were in their place, which was why it was odd when she came down the third aisle and encountered one she didn’t recognize. Between short forest green and wide dusty brown, a blue. Madeline frowned. She reached for it, and then remembered herself. Gloves. You always wore gloves when handling these books.

Madeline scurried back to her desk, chewing the side of her cheek. They hadn’t told her of any new acquisitions. And no book should be shelved without being appropriately catalogued first. But it had to be new. Madeline checked the books every day, every day for a year. Short forest green and wide dusty brown were always next to each other. Always. She sighed, shaking her head and grabbing the cloth gloves. Perhaps someone had put it down here by mistake. Somehow.

The blue was still there when she returned to the aisle, bright and strong. No title on the spine, but that was the case with many of these books. Madeline slipped on her gloves and carefully removed the blue from the shelf, turning it over in her hands. No title. Just a thin circle stamped on the front in gold leaf. She should do this at a desk, but there was still the possibility it had made its way down here in error. And it didn’t look all that old. So Madeline opened it.

The pages crackled and separated for her, breathing out a cloud of age that didn’t match the pure blue of the cover. The ink was faded and spelled out words in a language she wasn’t familiar with, with symbols in shorthand intermixed. Even the diagrams were foreign, the tiny arrows and starred bits meaning nothing to her eyes. Madeline eased the book shut. Whatever it was, it belonged here. So it needed to be catalogued.

“Oh. What a happy coincidence,” a voice said, causing Madeline to jump. She must not have heard the stairwell door open.

A tall man stood at the far end of the aisle, well dressed and in an overcoat. He smiled and took a step towards her.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, “but you have exactly the book I was looking for.”

Madeline looked down at her hands and back at the man. “This?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you need to make an appointment to view any of the books in this section.”

The man chuckled and rubbed his chin, taking another step towards Madeline. This time she took a step back.

“You misunderstand. I’m not here for a viewing.”

“I can’t just give it to you,” Madeline said, sounding firmer in her words than she felt. She brought the book closer to her person. “These are rare books, they aren’t lent out. If you’d like to schedule a viewing...”

Her voice faded as the shelves began to shake and the shadows cast by them began to darken and grow. The smile the man had displayed before was gone. He took another step towards her, slowly, as if he was approaching a frightened rabbit about to bolt.

“Madeline, give me the book. No one needs to get hurt.”

Madeline ran.