Franklin Library Leather Bound Books Novels & Stories

Leila walked between the aisles, surrounded by old copper kettles, once fine German porcelain, toy trains, and oak plant stands trying hard not to look bored. One stall caught her eye—a pile of books, mostly battered children’s tales and lonely volumes of the classics not worth much without the rest of the lot. Some books looked interesting, bound in old tooled leather. Then something caught her eye. She spotted a volume in the middle of all that artful chaos. It was a thick, faded book with a tan leather binding. The title, The History and Artifacts of the Ancient Germanic Tribes, was elegantly crafted in gold letters. Leila’s pulse quickened. She was looking for this volume in the library

I headed toward the back room and started looking for the box she'd mentioned. I was curious why those books weren't allowed to be read freely. Was it because they were old? I opened the box and found several old books with dark brown, tan, reddish, and primarily black leather covers, each with a unique texture. The titles were stamped in faded gold lettering. There were about ten thick books in total. It almost slipped out of my hands when I picked up the last one. It fell to the floor, landing face up to reveal the title: "The Dark History of the Maximillian Kingdom."

Just expensive furniture and abstract art that looked chosen to impress rather than express. I passed through the living room, my attention drawn to a large bookshelf covering one wall. The collection impressed me—ancient texts on pack history, rare volumes on wolf magic, modern novels organized by genre rather than author. Many of the books looked unread, their spines uncreased. One leather-bound book caught my eye—its dark cover embossed with strange symbols that resembled no language I recognized. I reached for it, but it refused to budge. Odd. I tried again, pulling harder. The book remained firmly in place, as if glued to the shelf.

"No, no, no, we all have our specialties. Actually, I was hoping you could teach me a few things. Would you be willing to come over to my place sometime?" We exchanged a look, both of us sharing an unspoken understanding. "Percy, have you ever heard of a close, private circle that focuses on nurturing women's tractability?" Franklin led me to his house, and we sat in his bedroom as he asked me this question. I couldn't help but smile. He was a literature professor, all right. The way he talked about things made them sound almost glamorous, as if he was presenting the fetish in a much grander way.

Threadbare paths where feet had walked before still looked good. The air smelled of lemon oil in some areas. I revisited the library again. Leather books, some with cracked spines, but well-kept. The Latin books on one side, the French books on another side. And there were the classics, which were my favourite. A decanter on the desk. Amber, which was always full, but I'd never used the desk, only the chaste by the window when reading. The drawing-room was next. There was a piano. Steinway, with the lid closed. The bench was pulled out as though someone had used the it.

Cain flips open the green book in his hand and Safira opens the one in hers. They stare at me and I smile sheepishly before walking over to one of the shelves and picking up the first green book I see. I smirk as I walk back to my seat. “What are the odds that I picked the book the librarian was telling us about?” Cain chuckles. “There are over one hundred green leather-bound books in here, different shades and different sizes, so let’s say the chances are pretty slim. The book is probably thicker than that.” Safira nods. “A history of Lycan and werewolf magics sounds like something that lives in a thick tome. Probably weighs a few pounds.”

The complete volume of the World Almanac on the top row, varying books about business and commerce on the middle, and a compilation of untitled white leather-bound books on the bottom. The white books caught my attention quickly. Weird. It looked specifically custom-made. I was almost tempted to open one of them when I found a familiar-looking book placed singularly at the far corner of the shelf. It was bound using black lamb skin. The title written on the spine made me frown as I read it. ‘The God’s Emerald Eyes.’

Kaida, mouth agape, stared at the leather-bound journals Brady had placed on the table in the library. Wearing white gloves, he'd retrieved them from a high glass-encased shelf and had lined them in order. Fifty-two in all. Some bindings were cracked, the pages yellow with age. Others looked new and barely touched.

The deeper they ventured, the more alive the library became. The room breathed. Every whispered discussion. Every turning page. Every scratching quill. Every careful footstep between the shelves. Together they formed a rhythm so gentle Adelaide found herself unconsciously slowing her own breathing to match it. Arkael glanced towards a towering collection bound entirely in dark green leather. "Our histories." Adelaide followed his gaze. Each spine had been stamped with elegant gold lettering, the dates spanning generations she could scarcely comprehend. Some volumes were so thick they looked impossible to lift, while others appeared no larger than journals.

Tall windows lined one wall, their glass segmented into stained panes that turned the morning light into soft golds and blues, painting long, colorful rectangles across the floor. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the rest of the walls, real shelves, packed tight with volumes upon volumes of every size. Some spines were pristine, stamped with clean titles and crisp pages. Others were cracked and faded with age, cloth frayed at the edges, leather worn smooth. There were shelves of modern binders and printed reports tucked beside ancient looking tomes bound in dark hide, their titles almost unreadable.