“The doorbell?” Stone said. “There’s something we don’t hear very often.”
The Annex building, which was tucked away under the southern end of a towering suspension bridge spanning the Willamette River, was not open to the public. Aside from the occasional invaders, including the Serpent Brotherhood, intent on pillaging the Library, Stone couldn’t immediately recall any visitors dropping by unannounced, unless you counted a couple of determined Girl Scouts hawking cookies.
Who in the world?
“The Serpents?” Baird said warily, jumping to her feet. “Back for revenge?”
Stone doubted it. “Politely ringing the doorbell isn’t exactly their style. They’re sneakier than that.”
Cassandra winced slightly. The last time the Brotherhood had infiltrated the Library, they had done so by promising her a cure for her brain tumor. That was years ago, and she had since redeemed herself many times over, but Stone feared his comment had hit a nerve, even if he hadn’t intended to bring up that past betrayal. He made a mental note to watch his words a little more carefully for Cassandra’s sake. It had taken a while for her to regain his trust, but she had it now—in spades.
The bell chimed again, demanding their attention.
“Jenkins?” Baird prompted.
“Yes, Colonel,” Jenkins huffed, clearly displeased by the interruption. He crossed the office to where a velvet cloth was draped over a tall piece of furniture. He whipped off the cloth to reveal the standing, wood-framed mirror that served as the supernatural equivalent of a closed-circuit security monitor. A wave of Jenkins’s hand activated it, so that instead of displaying his reflection, the magic mirror offered a view of the scene outside the building, where a distraught-looking young woman was leaning on the bell by the Annex’s front entrance.
Her short red hair, in a pageboy do, was only a shade darker than Cassandra’s. Freckles embellished her fair complexion, while a rumpled windbreaker and faded jeans protected her from the elements. One thing was for sure: she didn’t look like a Girl Scout. Stone didn’t recognize her.
“Anybody we know?” he asked.
A chorus of nopes went around the table. Stone glanced at Jenkins, who was the only one of them who actually lived at the Annex. “Friend of yours?”
“Not by appearances,” the caretaker said. “Most of my social contacts have long since departed this vale of tears. Present company excluded.”
The bell kept ringing as the woman in the mirror stabbed the button urgently. Her restless eyes searched the lifeless utilitarian façade for any sign of habitation. Desperation was written all over her face.
“She looks like she’s upset,” Cassandra said with concern. “Maybe she’s in trouble?”
Stone had to agree. This was no casual visit; the stranger really wanted somebody to let her in. Her mouth was open wide, her lips moving, but no sound emerged from the glass—or penetrated the solid front door. Stone wished he could read lips as well as he did ogham.
“Can we get some audio?” he asked.
“If you insist.” Jenkins stepped away from the mirror and switched on a vintage Cathedral-style radio from the 1930s sitting next to a Tiffany lamp on a stained walnut sideboard. A female voice emerged from the radio, in synch with the image in the mirror. Despite a slightly tinny quality, it was easy enough to make out her words:
“Hello? Is anyone home? Can you hear me?”
The anxiety in her voice could be heard even through the geriatric speakers. Stone shared a worried look with the others. Whatever the stranger wanted, it sounded serious.
“Please!” she entreated, just outside the door. “I need your help. I need … the Librarians!”
That got their attention in a big way, as if her unexpected arrival wasn’t surprising enough. The existence of the Librarians was largely a secret, known only to wizards, dragons, djinn, secret societies, clandestine government organizations, and, okay, a few ordinary people whom the Librarians had pulled from the fire over the years. The Library’s phone number was unlisted, nor could it be found on Twitter or Facebook. The Portland Public Library System did not have borrowing privileges.
“Whoa,” Ezekiel said. “So not a Jehovah’s Witness then.”
“And here for a reason, I’m guessing.” Stone got up from the table and started for the door. “Let’s find out what’s up.”
“Absolutely not,” Jenkins protested. He stepped between Stone and the door to obstruct him. “We do not take walk-ins.”
“But you heard her,” Stone said, not backing down. “She needs our help.”
“Your chivalrous instincts do you credit,” Jenkins said, “but the Library is one of the most secure sites on the planet for a reason. We are a repository for countless dangerous books and relics, as well as more priceless, irreplaceable items than the Smithsonian, the Library of Congress, the Louvre, the Tower of London, and eBay combined. We do not let random strangers stroll in as though this is the neighborhood Starbucks.”
Baird spoke up. “I hate to say it, but he has a point.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Stone asked. “Pretend we’re not home and hope she goes away?”
Jenkins didn’t budge. “You’d be surprised how effective that strategy is.”
Giving up on the doorbell, their mysterious visitor started pounding on the door with her fists. The blows echoed across the office.
“I don’t think she’s giving up anytime soon,” Ezekiel said.
“But the Librarians are all about helping people.” Cassandra flinched at every knock. The woman’s distress clearly tugged on her heart. “Aren’t we?”
“The Librarians are about protecting the world from magic and vice versa,” Jenkins clarified. “Need I remind you that we have larger matters on our plate? Namely, a resurgent Serpent Brotherhood?”
“But shouldn’t we at least hear her out?” Cassandra asked. “Looking for the Serpents can wait for a minute.”
“Can it?” Jenkins asked.
A clap of thunder signaled the arrival of an afternoon storm. It started raining outside, yet the woman refused to turn away from the door and seek shelter elsewhere. The sudden squall turned into a downpour, drenching her.
“Please!” she shouted via the radio. “I have no one else to turn to. It’s a matter of life or death … I think!”
“The hell with it,” Stone decided. “I’m opening that door. Anybody got a problem with that?”
“More like serious reservations,” Jenkins said, stepping aside. “But the decision is up to you and your associates.”
Despite his (extreme) seniority, Jenkins was only the caretaker, not a Librarian. Stone figured it was his call unless one of the others objected.
“Just keep an eye on her,” Baird insisted “Remember, she’s a security risk until proven otherwise.”
Ezekiel didn’t look worried. “She’s just one soaked bird. I think we can handle her.”
“Have you forgotten Morgan Le Fay?” Baird said. “Or Lamia, or the Queen of Hearts?”
Ezekiel gulped. “Never mind.”
“Do it,” Cassandra urged Stone. “Don’t leave her out there any longer.”
Stone took that as a consensus. Striding past Jenkins, he yanked open the front door. A drenched redhead gasped in surprise and/or relief. Wide green eyes gaped at him.
“Oh, thank heavens,” she said. “Are you … a Librarian?”
“Maybe,” he answered. “How can I help you?”