shook her head—“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
I gave her a squeeze on the arm, hoping to reassure her when I didn’t quite have the words. I knew what it was like to have something special inside that you didn’t quite know how to use. She’d get through it, and so would I.
“You know what?” I said, pausing as a thought grabbed me. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
They ascended the staircase while I stopped by the library directly off the main foyer. As nice as it was to fly at nausea-inducing speeds over Dimitri’s home, I intended to learn something about the history of the place as well. Knowledge is power, and besides, I’ve always loved research.
Amber wall sconces bathed the library in warm pools of light. Built-in bookcases crowded the circular room, stretching at least two stories high around arched windows. A family crest and a stone memorial were set into the wall, dedicating this as the library of Nikkos Kallinikos, circa 1789.
The room smelled like old books and plaster. I set to work on the shelves to the right of the door, starting at the lowest shelf and working my way up. Then I moved to the bottom of the next shelf and worked my way up. At first, my wobbly legs protested. Soon, I was too wrapped up in the books to notice.
I found comfort in the systematic search. More than that, I didn’t want to miss anything important. Most of the books on the first set of shelves had to do with the history of the Greek city-states and early Mycenaean culture. Then middle history, modern history, flora and fauna. I used my pointer finger to skim the thick volumes.
While in another life I could have happily spent a month in here, tonight I had a purpose. I found two black leather history books on a low shelf near the center of the room. One focused strictly on the Kallinikos family, the other on the griffin clans themselves. Fifteen more minutes of searching and I had a history of the house, including maps of the estate.
I smiled as I made a quick search of the rest of the books, just to make sure I had the most important volumes. Sure, Nancy Drew might have sleuthed her way into answers about the house and its past. I believed in taking a more direct approach.
It might not be sexy, but I was nothing if not practical. I hefted the thick volumes into the crook of my arm and made my way to the stairs.
Who knew? The next part of my research might be quite stimulating. After all, I fully intended to involve my griffin boyfriend.
I returned to my room to find Pirate running from the door to the dresser and then back again, his nose to the floor. I stacked my research books on the long dresser to the right and clicked open the crystal buckle on my utility belt. “Pirate, what are you—? Hey!” His cold nose brushed my toes.
“She was here. With that cat. See? Cat hair here and cat smell here and cat hair here.” He shoved his head under the dresser. “Mmm…crumb. I tell you, I don’t like that cat one bit.”
Pirate was excitable anyway, but this was like Pirate on Starbucks. His entire body quivered.
“Wait,” I said to his stubbly little tail. “Who was here?”
“Ohh…Lizzie. Amara and that no-good Isabelle,although I should call her Fang Breath.” He yanked his head out from under the dresser. “Don’t you worry because I chased them off, watchdog-style.”
“Good.” Amara had no business coming in here. Whatever she had to say, she could have said downstairs. She sure didn’t seem like the type to hold back. Besides, knocking on the door was one thing. Sneaking in was another.
Pirate cocked his head to the side. “Can I bite her next time?”
“No,” I said, not really meaning it.
“She gave you a book,” Pirate said, hopping on the bed and leaning to sniff a rich blue journal on my nightstand. “She said it was her mama’s and that you needed to see what was inside.” He let out a wet doggie sniffle over the leather-bound volume. “Personally, I think
I gave her a squeeze on the arm, hoping to reassure her when I didn’t quite have the words. I knew what it was like to have something special inside that you didn’t quite know how to use. She’d get through it, and so would I.
“You know what?” I said, pausing as a thought grabbed me. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
They ascended the staircase while I stopped by the library directly off the main foyer. As nice as it was to fly at nausea-inducing speeds over Dimitri’s home, I intended to learn something about the history of the place as well. Knowledge is power, and besides, I’ve always loved research.
Amber wall sconces bathed the library in warm pools of light. Built-in bookcases crowded the circular room, stretching at least two stories high around arched windows. A family crest and a stone memorial were set into the wall, dedicating this as the library of Nikkos Kallinikos, circa 1789.
The room smelled like old books and plaster. I set to work on the shelves to the right of the door, starting at the lowest shelf and working my way up. Then I moved to the bottom of the next shelf and worked my way up. At first, my wobbly legs protested. Soon, I was too wrapped up in the books to notice.
I found comfort in the systematic search. More than that, I didn’t want to miss anything important. Most of the books on the first set of shelves had to do with the history of the Greek city-states and early Mycenaean culture. Then middle history, modern history, flora and fauna. I used my pointer finger to skim the thick volumes.
While in another life I could have happily spent a month in here, tonight I had a purpose. I found two black leather history books on a low shelf near the center of the room. One focused strictly on the Kallinikos family, the other on the griffin clans themselves. Fifteen more minutes of searching and I had a history of the house, including maps of the estate.
I smiled as I made a quick search of the rest of the books, just to make sure I had the most important volumes. Sure, Nancy Drew might have sleuthed her way into answers about the house and its past. I believed in taking a more direct approach.
It might not be sexy, but I was nothing if not practical. I hefted the thick volumes into the crook of my arm and made my way to the stairs.
Who knew? The next part of my research might be quite stimulating. After all, I fully intended to involve my griffin boyfriend.
I returned to my room to find Pirate running from the door to the dresser and then back again, his nose to the floor. I stacked my research books on the long dresser to the right and clicked open the crystal buckle on my utility belt. “Pirate, what are you—? Hey!” His cold nose brushed my toes.
“She was here. With that cat. See? Cat hair here and cat smell here and cat hair here.” He shoved his head under the dresser. “Mmm…crumb. I tell you, I don’t like that cat one bit.”
Pirate was excitable anyway, but this was like Pirate on Starbucks. His entire body quivered.
“Wait,” I said to his stubbly little tail. “Who was here?”
“Ohh…Lizzie. Amara and that no-good Isabelle,although I should call her Fang Breath.” He yanked his head out from under the dresser. “Don’t you worry because I chased them off, watchdog-style.”
“Good.” Amara had no business coming in here. Whatever she had to say, she could have said downstairs. She sure didn’t seem like the type to hold back. Besides, knocking on the door was one thing. Sneaking in was another.
Pirate cocked his head to the side. “Can I bite her next time?”
“No,” I said, not really meaning it.
“She gave you a book,” Pirate said, hopping on the bed and leaning to sniff a rich blue journal on my nightstand. “She said it was her mama’s and that you needed to see what was inside.” He let out a wet doggie sniffle over the leather-bound volume. “Personally, I think
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