This was nonsense. He’d come a very long way to receive his answer in precise accordance with the terms of their treaty. In his long alliance with Dantalion, he’d never once had to contend with a disappearing book before, and he wasn’t about to start accepting it now.

He’d have to have a word with that boy by the door.

Mammon dropped to the floor, went charging down the row, and swung out sharply into the main aisle, but immediately he stopped himself.

There, on the little reading lectern bolted to the end of the row, was an unshelved volume of the Dantalion.

It hadn’t been there when he’d first turned down the row—of that he was absolutely sure.

Of course, there was no way for him to be certain that this particular unmarked brown volume was the one to which he’d been directed, but he had a strong suspicion. Taking it in his hand, he retraced his steps back down row 94 to case K.

Sure enough, volume H was still missing from shelf 7.

This must be it.

As was his habit when consulting the Dantalion, Mammon opened the book first to its title page, and there he read:

THE DANTALION

Prophet Margins

“Oh,” he said to himself. “Splendid.”

Quickly, he riffled through to page 391, where he’d been told his answer would be found.

“Huh,” he said.

That was odd. There, in the binding, between pages 390 and 391, was a ragged zigzag of torn paper pennants: clear testament to a page ripped out of the book.

But there was no page missing: 390 led seamlessly into 391.

Something strange was going on.

Mammon looked up from the book with a start.

A sound was echoing through the hall.

Someone had called out:

Hey!

—

The door swung gently shut behind Bluma, sending an echo into the massive hall like the memory of a drumbeat.

She was alone.

The cream-colored card in her hand read QB 94 K 7 H 390, all in her very own handwriting.

It didn’t take her long to discern the method of organization. As soon as she’d moved through the entry basilica into the large halls of the stacks, she noticed the letters high above on the skylights.

A. And then, moving into the next hall, B.

By the time she reached F, she’d noticed the offshoot doorways and determined how to proceed once she came to Hall Q.

She wanted to spend no more time in this place than she absolutely needed to. The silence and stillness were massive, heavy, weighting her down, as if trying to convince her to join them.

She wanted to find her name, dispose of it, and move on as quickly as possible.

Unconsciously, she found herself striking a compromise between the desire to move quickly and the need not to disturb the heavy silence; she’d begun to step on the balls of her feet to keep her heels from clattering.