The Librarians 2 Novels & Stories

"You don't have feelings for this young lady?" I swallowed hard, and my heart was beating. "I'm not the committed type, sir," Liam replied severely, and I felt my heart crack into two pieces again. Odin played with his beard and studied the both of us. "From reliable sources,t seems you two have strong energies for one another but having difficult doubts about feelings." "Well, your wrong, sir. Lily and I are...friends." And the Grammy Award winner for Best Loser in the World goes too...Lily Peters!

“Beware the librarians who gave sight for sound. Tread quiet and swift, or you’ll never be found. What you seek and what you need are two very different things. Let the Library take control, and see what it brings. Knowledge is value, which must be protected at all cost. To pass through these doors, is to risk becoming lost.” ‘Another poem.’ Rayna groaned in my head, ‘I’ll take another poem as long as we can shift down here. I hate not being able to come forward.’ “Well—that was beautiful, and terrifying.” Helena sputtered, somehow managing a shaky smile. “So, these librarians, are they monsters?” I must’ve been getting better since my last confusing riddle, because these librarians sounded

Arthur nodded, “And it does not matter if they are extinct or not, I want to know all about them.” The librarian blinked at him in a confused fashion but then nodded. “And lineages too,” Rah added as he saw the librarian move away to find the books. The librarian clapped his hands on his ears dramatically and shook his head. “In hushed tones, please. In hushed tone.” “And lineages too,” Rah repeated in a soft whisper. Muttering under his breath that he was old but not deaf, the librarian went away to look for the titles. “Are you thinking what I think you are thinking?” Rah started.

Dim, golden light illuminates narrow aisles, casting long shadows that twist and shift with each step. The library is silent, save for the soft rustle of turning pages and the occasional squeak of a trolley wheel as librarians glide between shelves like wraiths. Their movements are unnervingly silent, their faces impassive as they climb ladders to retrieve books or vanish into shadowy alcoves. The atmosphere presses down on me, a solemn reminder of the knowledge stored here and the secrets it might hold.

I said, and she nodded. “Sometimes the biggest weapons, the strongest and deadliest are hidden in a library, Diablo.” She said, opening the door. The two of us walked inside and she nodded at the librarian. The woman did not even bother getting up. It was as if she was aware of our presence. She was aware of what we were here for. Maybe she was.

" The librarian said this while rising from the cold ground. I nodded at him. A minute later, we heard Kiara calling for help. I closed my eyes and hummed to distract myself from her cries. I just hoped that the shadows wouldn't kill her, because after all, before I went with the librarian to seek them out, we were warned that they had fatal consequences. “They got her!“ The librarian laughed gleefully and clapped his hands together when the screams stopped. “Let's go and see what they have done to her.“ He pulled my hand and rose me to my feet.

“Maybe we’re looking in the wrong place. There has to be something—there’s always something.” A soft clearing of the throat startled us, and we turned to see the librarian standing nearby. He was an older man, his gray hair neatly combed, and his sharp eyes glinted with curiosity. “Luna,” he said, bowing slightly. “How can I assist you?” Fatima exchanged a glance with me before answering. “We’re looking for information about... creatures. Something that might explain what’s happening in the woods. Deformed humans, maybe monsters.” The librarian hummed thoughtfully, his fingers stroking his beard. “Perhaps you’re searching in the wrong direction,” he said after a moment.

I couldn’t wait to finish the novel and then upload it to Zoodago, the sight where I published my works and had so many loyal readers. As I typed, a sharp voice cut through my concentration. "Humans aren't welcome in this section of the library." I looked up to see a stern-faced librarian glaring down at me. She had on round black glasses and a plastic-looking hairdo pulled back so tightly, I could see the strain around the edges of her face. Her eyes were cold and completely filled with disdain. "Excuse me?" I stammered, taken aback by her hostility. "You heard me," she snapped. "This area is reserved for special students. Not humans."

"A friend." "Which friend?" Eliana looked at the window. The sky was low and gray, the color of the glass sea before the doors began to change. "I don't know his name," she said. "But I need to find it." The library was two blocks from the main street, a brick building that smelled of carpet cleaner and old paper. Eliana had not been inside since freshman year, when she had still done homework at tables instead of avoiding them. The librarian looked up when she entered, a woman with silver hair and reading glasses, her face registering no recognition. Eliana had become a ghost in her own town.

Dim overhead lights cast long shadows between the rows, and the air carried that comforting, dusty scent of old paper and leather bindings. Lila Harper had worked the late shift at the circulation desk for three semesters. At 29, she was the youngest full-time librarian on staff, with sharp hazel eyes, shoulder-length chestnut hair often twisted into a loose bun, and a body that her modest cardigans and knee-length skirts couldn’t quite hide. She knew every quiet corner of the building, including which sections offered the most privacy after 9 p.m.