A slight prickle on my fingers has me glaring toward the books I’ve just brushed. A wisp of magic forms and quickly disappears.

The magic in the Library is powered by an old protection artifact known as the Autarium. It fills the Library with magic, protecting and controlling the entire building.

The magic laces itself in light wisps through the bookshelf beside me, playfully swirling around the books and wooden shelf. The old relic almost has a personality of its own, very playful and fiercely protective of its home.

I glare at the magic surrounding the shelves.

“Oh, so now you want to show up and play. Where were you five minutes ago when Barbie and Ken were having their fun.”

Not protecting my precious volumes anyway.

As if reading my thoughts, a small snippet of magic twirls out toward me and swats me on my back. The light waves flowing around me in warning not to push my luck.

I narrow my eyes playfully at the swirling tufts now dancing around me.

Chuckling, I walk toward the reception desk, passing through the many rows of tall bookshelves and writing tables.

I stop when I reach the center of the room, the sweet and delicate smells of the large open Library hitting me; the warm, woody and musty scents reach my nose and make me smile.

I loved the scent of old books and the smell of the wood that surrounded every inch of the Library. From the sculpted mahogany to the more modern rosewood tables and the small hint of dust that escaped into its corners.

There would only ever be one word for this place…Home.

I make my way toward the large desk and hear a tapping noise the closer I get.

My Library technician seems angsty today. That's not unusual for Mirin.

She is petite at 5'2, with bright pink and black pony-tailed hair that has an obsession with anything bright-colored and gothic. She has the appearance of a cute chihuahua but is actually a pitbull underneath. Even I wouldn’t mess with her on a bad day.

Add in her impressive abilities as a witch, and you’ve got one powerful and competent technician.

Thankfully she’s easily calmed most days with a good fantasy novel and some of that green muck she calls herbal tea. She drinks that stuff like it should be attached to her veins on an IV drip. Probably some secret witch concoction to make her look so young and dainty.

As I approach the reception desk, she folds her arms and tilts back in her chair to look at me, a certain glint in her eyes.

“So, Rhys?” Her tone is challenging as she raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow into her multi-colored bangs, a slant tilting her black-painted lips.

“How was last night's rendezvous with Mr. Shifter? Did the big bear eat your goldilocks…or redlocks?” She smirks.

“Mirin!” I bark.

“Was he wild and rough and raw? Oh, oh, are they bigger than wolf shifters, cause I have a fellow coven witch who—”