Webster Library Novels & Stories

“Come on, let’s go somewhere you can take your mind off this. Some fresh air and the smell of old books will help you relax; trust me. I’m sure the boys can take care of things on their own.” Reluctantly, I allowed her to lead us out of the infirmary and towards a part of Whitestone I had never been to. For the first time since my arrival here, I was getting to see what the neutral lands really looked and felt like. Too bad it wasn’t on a good day. Janine led us to a building, which I soon realized was a library. “This is Monestra Library.” She announced proudly, keeping her voice to a low whisper. “It’s the biggest library in the werewolf community, the oldest and most comprehensive.

Which only made it more irritating. Her gaze moved toward the small stack of books sitting on the corner of her desk — mostly art books and a few random novels she hadn’t finished yet. None of them would help, at least not in this case. Maybe the internet just wasn’t the right place to look. Arabella tapped her fingers lightly against the arm of her chair as the idea slowly formed. Libraries had records the internet didn’t. Old texts. Language archives. Historical dictionaries. She remembered once hearing that the university library downtown had an entire section dedicated to ancient languages and forgotten dialects.

Kyra found the huge library easily enough with the help of an Omega. The smell of old books and dust greeted her the moment she entered the library. It took Kyra ten minutes to walk from one end to the other. The labyrinth of books with thick worn out spines are neatly arranged on the wooden shelves. Rows and rows of books are placed, one row older than the other. Centuries old history of the Lycan's and the Werewolfs was proudly displayed in one section. Another section belongs to their medical knowledge. Moon goddess, Vampires, golden wolves and so on. You name it this library has it.

I followed him blindly, conscious not to breathe too loudly. Could never underestimate werewolf hearing. “Down this hall and turn left. There’s a door. It is the back entrance of the library,” he said, and started walking away. I found the door just like he said. When I opened it, my jaw dropped. “Oh goddess,” I whispered in awe. Shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls. I had never seen so much paper in one place. The collection could probably rival the National Wolf Historian Archives, the central information hub of the wolves in the country.