Novel & Cerita Bookworms

𝙃𝙚'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙩

I recalled last night's incident, and my heart sank thinking about Abigail monitoring me. "Audrey? Well, she's our resident bookworm. Miss Smarty-pants went to class, and then she's going to read at the library," Elodie scoffed, as though being concerned about school was too much to ask. "Aren't you the resident bookworm?" I tilted my head to the side, watching as she flipped another page. "Nah, love, I am a bookwolf, a book-devourer, a book black hole. 'Worm' is a bit too small a creature to refer to me." She said it with that serious, philosophical expression that always made me laugh.

It was a space designed purely for quiet study, and reverence. “These two shelves here are all about the mate bond,” Thefros said, gesturing toward a pair of bookcases halfway down the room. “Lore, case studies, theory. Everything we’ve managed to preserve.” I nodded, pulling down five books at random and settling at the table under the nearest lamp. Thefros took a seat opposite, already flipping through his own selection with practiced ease. The pages felt heavy in my hands, textured like something handmade. These books hadn’t touched a printer, some were written in fading ink, others illuminated with strange symbols or brutal sketches. One book was nothing but badly rhymed poetry pretendin

The ladies all giggle and Julie stands, handing a new bookmark to each of us. "Yes. We figured we'd get you ones that suited you a little better." she says. The new one is dark blue with gold lettering that says 'Real men read dirty books'. I smile and look over at Ev who's showing Harper his excitedly. "These are great. Thank you." I say just as Bri nudges me. "Oh! Tell them your joke, love!" Harper says excitedly. Ev rolls his eyes before addressing the group.

But instead of old stories from my grandmother’s life, the pages were scrawled with strange symbols and sketches—shorthand in her handwriting explaining the purpose of different runes and sigils. Flipping through the pages, there were sketches of wolves, and the last page that she’d written in had a detailed rendition of a nightmarish wolf-beast that made my blood run cold at the sight of it, it’s eyes smudged over with charcoal in the shape of a protective rune. My heart raced when I realized what I was holding. This was no ordinary journal, it was a spell book.

Or was it just a dream? As before, the place smelled disconcertingly like foot powder—gritty talc with a cloying perfumed undertone that made her think of funerals. Display racks near the door held the usual suspects: artsy postcards, books on the witch trials, copies of famous witches' books, and such. But the racks themselves were made of wood rather than the usual cheesy wire, and the sides were carved with strange, sinuous curves and the hint of scales and teeth. The walls were painted black with greenish white accents; she glowed in the dark when the bookkeeper turned off the lights. It would make the perfect backdrop for him to pull out the three-foot-high grim reaper statue that was l

I mumbled with a full mouth. "There's extra in there. Let's keep moving." We turned the corner into another street lined with low brick buildings. One had a dusty window and a sun-faded sign that read Dog-Eared Pages. "This place is a little gem," Robbie said. "If you ever want to read up on modern stuff written for wolves from the old packs—this is where to do it. They even have books on magic you won't find in human shops." That piqued my interest immediately, but—

The sound of water gently lapping against the shelves provided a soothing ambiance, creating a serene atmosphere that encouraged deep contemplation and study. As they ventured deeper into the library, Tritan, Finrir, Nerissa, Madissa, Bryan, and Joe found themselves surrounded by rows upon rows of books. The sheer volume of knowledge contained within those pages was awe-inspiring. Each book seemed to hold the answers to countless mysteries, waiting to be discovered by those who sought enlightenment.

“Looks like I’m not done surprising you yet. And yes. I can. My familiars can sense for spirits and can pull me back. But I need you to make sure nothing else tries to come after me.” Lucas’s jaw tenses. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” “Yes. I’ve been wanting to go look through the books for a while, actually. The Academy has an extensive library. It’s two-stories tall and has the most wonderful smell of old paper and fresh ink.” “It’s obvious why you own a bookstore.” “I do like books, though our store is full of mostly fiction. I love a good romance novel.” He runs his hand up and down my arm. “Why do you love romance novels so much?”

Just sneakers and a light jacket. The city was unusually quiet. I ended up at a small antique bookstore tucked between a florist and a tailor. It had no flashy signage, just a brass bell on the door and a handwritten welcome note in cursive. Inside, the scent of old paper and cedar wrapped around me like a story waiting to be told. I let myself drift between the aisles until a book caught my eye—Letters Never Sent. It was a collection of real, unsent letters from women over the last century. To lost loves, estranged mothers, unborn children.