Book Search Plot Novels & Stories

I didn't want to turn into a nutcase of Stockholm Syndrome. Shooting up to my feet, I veered to the history section of the library. If some beast like Jaxon said really existed out here, then there should be records of it or at least records of rumors. My hand rose, the tip of my index tracing the spines of the books as I passed them. Three shelves down, and I still couldn't find anything that could spark some interest in me. Leaning against the shelf behind me, I sighed when something caught my eyes on the top row. A single book lied there, cursive golden letters danced on its black leather spine.

Her cathedral. She slouched into her best corner chair—stuffed, tufted velvet in tired blue—pullding out a book from her tote. A quiet night's reading before bed was now her ritual, and for tonight, she opened what was familiar and comforting: *The Light Between Oceans*. The book always bore its imprint on her. Loss. Forgiveness. Breaking and binding decisions. She opened to the top of it, and the world disintegrated. Somewhere in the city—several stories above, in a steel and glass building—Julian Blackwood lay in his dark, sleek bedroom, staring at the book she had given him.

Not long after lying her body on the bed, she dozed off and became unaware now of everything around her. Inside his room, Boss Dar got a small black-covered book and browse its pages as if looking for something urgent on every page. After a few more browsing, he finally stopped flipping the pages of the book and focused his eyes on what has been written in the book. Then he furrowed thereafter as his eyes froze on that page.

He just syphons out the information that is of relevance to tell me and Jake, so we wait with bated breath for him to talk again. Nikita huffs and leaves again, going back to the kitchen in a strop. I haven’t got time to deal with her over emotional need for attention right now so I ignore her and carry on looking over through the big book in my lap, desperate to find anything that can help. I stretch my arms high into the air above me and arch my back inwards, trying to relieve some of the aching pain form reading for so long. In the corner of the room, just in the shadows where the light doesn’t quite reach I notice a small tattered book. I place the book I had been reading onto the floor

Unlike upstairs, everything seemed to be neatly organized. I began to scour the bookshelves, searching for anything that would even remotely resemble the book that I heard about. If it was going to be anywhere, it would be here… I was sure of it. I had a good feeling about this place. At first, my search was fruitless. There were plenty of rare books, but none of them seemed to contain any information on the Golden Wolf. I even went through each bookshelf twice, but found nothing. I must have been in there for a few hours at that point; the sun was probably rising and I had no way of knowing since it was so dark down there.

That night, I knew her body was on the verge of giving in. But that was not how I wanted things to happen. Hell. I don’t even know what I want to happen between us anymore. Katriona was an unexpected twist in this game. I didn’t want to but I found myself suddenly cracking a smile when I read the title of the book she was reading. 101 Ways To Defeat The Northerners. I didn’t know I had such a book hanging inside my house. Had I known, I would have burnt it a long time ago.

I press my hand to him, trying to get him to stay still. “I can help,” I murmur, fumbling with the heavy book in my lap. He pauses, eyes darting to the old book. His gaze hardens in suspicion but then softens. He recognizes what it is. I flip frantically through the brittle pages. 39… 91… 180… Focus. My fingers finally find the right page and relief washes over me when I spot the illustrations. I place the book next to me and take the bag, searching for the right leaves stuffy stuff. I do not know what. At least the book has pictures in color.

A shutter travels up my spine as I try not to think about which one of my mates she may have been involved with before I came along. I stare at the search bar on the library computer, and I wonder if the searches are tracked. I scan my card with the reader and type ‘witches’ into the search engine. I watch as the little blue circle in the center of the screen circles around and around, before only one book shows up on the screen. It is a children’s fictional book call The Werewolf and the Witch, and it is checked out. I blow out a deep breath and tap my long nails on the desk beside me. Clearing the search, I try ‘supernatural beings.’ Several different titles pop up, but they are all listed

“Okay, let’s begin.” She went to the first shelf behind the table, her fingers ran along the thick and dusty books, it seemed like they had not been moved for ages, and she also noticed that the books on this shelf were sorted by color, except for one which was misplaced. She reached for it above her head and pulled it out, the book was heavy but it seemed like it was just the book she was supposed to find. It was a book bound in hard blue covers and etched along the spine in gold letters was the word; “Khione.”

“What the hell is going on here?” My rasping voice only accentuated the strange, forlorn silence of my home. Nothing made any sense. Nothing seemed or felt real. Hadn’t, really, since we’d discovered those two dead dogs and that altar in the clearing, and especially since yesterday morning . . . When I’d seen that damned book at The General Store. The book I’d apparently bought in a fugue state and then read multiple times without remembering anything. The book that . . . I opened my eyes, looked down and—feeling very little surprise—saw The King Wears Yellow sitting open before me on the den table.