A Study in Spirits

by Byrd Nash

  In the library, they had found a good table, discretely away from the traffic.

  “I’m off to find a good book to hop into,” said Brigit. She was standing next to the table, eager to put their plan into action.

  “Bring back whatever you pick,” said Logan. “We don’t want someone walking off with the book and you inside of it.”

  Brigit nodded, disappearing into the stacks. Meanwhile, Granite had entered through a different door and was making some copies at a machine across the room. He was trying to look like he was up to no mischief. Em thought he looked like a kid who had just shoplifted candy for the first time.

  “So, where’s the cat?” Em asked Logan in an attempt to calm her nerves.

  “Jib is on the table,” said Logan. At her double-take, he explained, “The cat is a púca, a creature that has certain abilities. One of them is to become invisible.”

  “Why can you see it?”

  “Hm, yeah,” Logan looked slightly embarrassed. “It’s about being a bard. It’s all rather complicated.”

  “We have time. Tell me about it.”

  Logan shrugged his shoulders, uncomfortable with having to explain himself. In the past, relationships changed once people knew what he could do.

  “I’m a bard. I see things truly.”

  “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “It’s hard to conceal the truth from me. Jib trying to be invisible uses a fae deceit called Glamour.”

  “Ah, I think I get it now.” Obake dropped from earring to squirrel, landing on her shoulder, and said, “I see the cat.”

  Em’s hand came up to reflexively pet it, reassuring it, “Of course you do. No secret gets by you.”

  “Unlike your tsukumogami, the True Beast is always in a cat form.”

  “What’s a True Beast?”

  “It’s a fae that always remains in animal form. Not like a werewolf. Something that could be a human or a wolf.”

  “You’ve met a werewolf?”

  “Ha, no. Sorry I was using that as an example.”

  “What’s the True Beast doing right now?”

  “It keeps staring at Obake and wants me to ask you about it.”

  Em gave a little self-conscious cough, her eyes darting down to the laptop she had pulled from her backpack. She asked Logan, “What do you see when you look at it?”

  “When it’s an earring, it looks like a cylinder, made of some dark metal. I don’t get a hint that it is anything else, which is weird considering my talents. I asked Jib about it, and the púca said your tsukumogami is more like a shapeshifter in its talents. Whatever form it takes is its truth.”

  Em’s hand went up again to stroke the dwarf flying squirrel.

  “What kind of being is it?” asked Logan, genuinely curious. It was pretty adorable with large black eyes and a gray body fur with a lighter white on its underside. A long furry tail lay over the back of its spine.

  “A tsukumogami,” explained Em, “is a Japanese spirit that inhabits a man-made object, usually a tool. But it only spawns from things that are used over a long period of time. Some people say 99 years. Obake told me its been a key for 500 years.”

  “So it started as a key, but it learned to be a squirrel?” guessed Logan.

  “Yes. But it can hold the shape of some other things — especially anything that reveals —,” Emma paused for a brief second before adding, “information.”

  Obake was pretty cute. Logan reached out to touch it, but stopped, asking Emma if it was okay to do so.

  “Go ahead.” As Logan stroked a finger over its small body, Emma continued explaining, “I got it last year when I ordered a manga comic from Japan. When the book came in the mail, the tsukumogami was inside the package, disguised as a flash drive. At first, I ignored it because finding a strange flash drive is a common way for someone to send a virus.”

  “Have her tell us more,” Jib told Logan. The púca couldn’t stop giving a fixed, fascinated stare at the rodent in Em’s hands. Since Emma didn’t hear the Jib’s comment, Logan repeated the cat’s question.

  Before Emma could reply, Brigit returned to the table, sliding a book across to Logan.

  “How about I dive into this one?”

  Logan looked at the spine. It didn’t seem to be Brigit’s usual fare.

  “I need to have it read before my philosophy class next week,” said the dryad, a bit defensively.

  Logan said, “I’ll tap the book when we need you out, okay?”

  Brigit gave a quick nod. She opened the book to lay it flat, placing the palms of her hands on the pages. She gave a quick check around to see if anyone was looking their direction before fading into the book. Em couldn’t help but exclaim, “Wow! That’s cool!”

  Logan flipped the book closed, and set it between them. Across the hall, Granite met his eyes and the wrestler gave him a nod.

  “Okay, let me go meet Granite,” he told the girl. “Meanwhile, you and Jib watch the book.”

  Brigit and Granite were both naturals, a sept of the fae which could merge with natural materials in the human world. While the dryad could step into anything made of wood, even furniture or books, the eotan preferred rock. He was the offspring of a mountain and a harpy. Logan hadn’t asked how that worked because he figured, while it might not embarrass Granite, it would Logan.

  In the bathroom, Granite and Logan waited, washing their hands until everyone had left. When it was empty except for them, the wrestler set his shoulders against the door, preventing anyone from being able to enter.

  “Look in my backpack. I brought something.”

  Logan quickly found what he meant.

  “This is a brick!”

  “Yeah, I thought about doing a pebble, but it was too small and couldn’t contain my greatness. After I slip into it, just put it in my backpack.”

  Thank goodness Logan hadn’t packed a heavy bag himself! When the wrestler didn’t jump into the brick, Logan asked him encouragingly, “What?”

  “Sorry about all this, human.”

  “It’s okay. But don’t help people who want to cheat. It just makes trouble.”

  “Will do!” Granite wriggled and rotated his shoulders as if he was preparing for a wrestling match. He popped his neck once to the left and again to the right. “Just keep an eye on Emma. I told her I’d protect her against anything we find here.”

  “She’ll be fine. She has me, you, and Brigit here. And don’t forget Jib. We can handle whatever we find.”

  “Okay.”

  In a flash, Granite stepped into the brick, vanishing from sight. Logan gave the block a pat and slipped it into Granite’s bag. As he stepped through the bathroom door, Logan received a disgruntled look from another student, whose knocking had become pounding on the closed door.

  “Who do you think you are?” snapped the guy grabbing the handle. Logan just gave him a shrug before making his way back to the table where Emma and Jib sat.

  “All good?” she asked over the top of her laptop lid.

  “All according to plan.”

  When the lights flickered, warning people the library would be closing soon, Logan tucked Brigit’s book in his backpack.

  “Just follow me,” he instructed Em. The two humans and the cat made their way deeper into the library until they found an empty nook. When no one passed them for several minutes, both of the college students slid under the study table to hide.

  “Give me your hand.” Em did as Logan asked. He had a warm hand; hers was cooler. He placed both of their hands on Jib, who had settled down between them.

  “Oh, I can see him now!” she exclaimed.

  “It, if you please,” said the púca. “I’m non-binary.”

  “Sorry,” apologized Em, blushing slightly at her mistake. She told Logan, “I don’t feel any different? Are you sure we’re invisible?”

  “We are,” Logan whispered back, “but Jib’s powers won’t conceal our voices.” He put one finger over his lips to indicate silen
ce.

  The three waited as the sound of steps came their way. A librarian, doing a last-minute check through, passed them by without noticing them. Em may not have felt different, but Jib’s magic must have worked.

  Finally, the lights went out, and Logan took his hand off of Jib’s back. He didn’t move from their shelter, cautioning her, “Best stay here for a few hours until we know everyone is gone.”

  Sitting was rather boring. It also made Em’s crossed legs fall asleep. She stretched them out, trying to make them more comfortable. Her movement placed the tsukumogami on her shoulder very close to the cat’s face.

  “Your little companion fascinates me,” purred the púca.

  “As a snack?” countered Em. “Or are you curious about its abilities?”

  She cupped her hand over the squirrel in a protective gesture. Now that the púca was visible to her, she could see its orange eyes held a predatory gleam.

  “I will not lie,” said the cat, “and say I haven’t thought about eating it. It does look tasty, and it makes my mouth water. However, I am more interested in knowing how it can turn into something non-organic. That is a rare ability amongst the fae.”

  Em was apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how it does it.”

  Obake spoke in that machine, robot voice it had, “Loved through generations, I became self-aware. Time and acquaintance forms me.”

  “So like the rabbit toy?” suggested Logan, who had been listening in on the discussion.

  “I do not know the reference,” said the squirrel.

  So while they waited, Logan told them a story about a much-loved toy that became real.

  Eventually, the atmosphere of the library deepened into an oppressive stillness. They could hear only the sound of machines and the air ventilation system operating. Em nudged Logan, who had fallen into a doze. After he rubbed his eyes, she showed him her cell phone displaying the time.

  He nodded, and the two scooted out from under the table. He brought out the book that Brigit had merged within. Tapping it, he softly called her name. The dryad stepped out of the paperback, stretching her arms overhead.

  “Anything happened while I was reading?”

  “Nope,” said Logan.

  Meanwhile, Em pulled out the brick and set it on the floor. She looked at Logan and Brigit. “How do we get him out?”

  Brigit didn’t hesitate. She tapped her toe on the brick. “Come out, Boom-Boom, and let’s get this circus started.”

  As easily and quickly as Brigit, the eotan stepped out of the brick. His arrival made the nook very crowded.

  “Stage one completed,” said Brigit, rubbing her hands with anticipation. “Now, stage two of the plan. Emma will check out the database and work her computer magic there. Granite will be her lookout. Logan and I will interview some ghosts. See if we can sniff out this guy.”

  The group nodded at Brigit’s directions, but before they could separate, the dryad asked, “Where did Jib go?”

  Logan spotted a long black tail disappearing around the corner. They gave a hurried goodbye to Granite and Emma. Watching them leave down the hallway, the wrestler asked Em, “Where did you want to set up?”

  Instead of using the reference librarian’s desk, Emma picked another computer. Hooking in, she started searching files, while the eotan stood over her, scanning the library for anything suspicious.

  “What are you doing exactly?”

  “When I was in the system before, I saw it deleting the files, as it was doing it, but I didn’t have time to review the entire database at the time.”

  Em plugged the tsukumogami into her laptop. After it slipped through the firewall, she would start running the diagnostic programs she had installed on her computer. Leaning forward, she licked her lips in anticipation. She loved cracking open secrets just as much as the tsukumogami.

  “I just set up some programs to sift through the database and run reports. Find out when and where the data was damaged. If it’s as malicious as we believe, it probably left some ticking time bombs behind. A virus or malware often does this. Obake and I will be checking the database audit records, log files —.”

  Granite interrupted her. “That’s cool. You know your stuff. I don’t. I was just curious.” He pulled a few oranges from his backpack. Peeling them, he set the fruit segments next to Emma’s laptop.

  “I thought your buddy might be hungry after it gets done. I know I’m starving after a workout.”

  Spook in the Stacks

  Logan and Brigit quick-walked in an attempt to catch the black cat trotting away from them. Jib disappeared around a corner, causing Brigit to grumble, “Just like the True Beast to take off, going it alone, after we all agreed on a plan.”

  From the direction it was heading, it seemed the púca was going down to the lower basement floor. This area housed the stacks of lesser-known work and catalogs of professional journals.

  The library did have some lights, mainly small LED indicators, indicating maintenance areas or exit doors. However, the illumination was so dim, that at Em’s advice, they had brought small flashlights. They turned them on, and two spots lighted their way, their feet stepping softly across the tile. As the two continued following a waving tail they never caught, Logan asked Brigit, “So what kind of books are kept in this area?”

  Brigit ran her hands along the book covers, feeling paper, cardboard, and leather. The contents spoke under her exploring fingertips.

  — the art of translation is based upon a complete understanding of the society’s culture —

  — a group experience, such as that which takes place at a concert or movie theater, gives credence to —

  — the reduction of reliance upon trusted news sources to learn information will perhaps cause —

  “Looks like work done by scholars, mostly ignored. They feel pretty lonely.”

  Logan stopped and pulled a volume off the shelf. The booklet was about the thickness of a magazine. He sneezed from the dust as he pointed the flashlight beam at the cover to read it.

  “Oh, I see. It’s someone’s dissertation.”

  “As I said, ignored scholarly works.”

  Using his light, he read a few more pages. Closing it, he asked the dryad, “Why would anyone write a paper about the supposed existence of Atlantis?”

  “Because it’s important,” said a voice above their heads. Startled, Logan looked up to see a ghost drift down until her eyes were at their level. The specter was a woman about a dozen years older than himself, dressed in a long skirt fashionable a hundred years ago.

  “I want you to know,” the spirit said, “that my dissertation, at the time, was hotly debated. It was almost published in a peer journal.”

  “Oh? That’s — that’s good,” stuttered Logan, trying to think of something nice he could say, but his attempt must have fallen flat as the woman snapped, “Don’t give me that look of pity. You men are all alike.”

  “No, truly, I’m sorry. I just didn’t know. Before my time.”

  “My dissertation would have made waves except indoor plumbing became all the rage,” the ghost said morosely. Before she could continue moaning about being forgotten, Brigit interjected, “Haunting a library must be interesting.”

  “It would be if anyone came down here other than the cleaning crew. If visitors would read my important work, we could have a lively discussion.”

  Seeming to notice who they were for the first time, the ghostly scholar asked with temerity. “Why are a human and fae hanging in an area mostly forgotten in the middle of the night? Up to no good, I would imagine. You’re not sneaking about so you can rip out pages from art books, are you?”

  “No!” responded Logan sharply. “Why would I do that?”

  Brigit knew ghosts could be easily distracted. She forestalled this by saying, “We’re here investigating the safety of the library collection. Someone told us there is a creature here destroying books.”

  The ghost came closer, and the tempera
ture around Logan and Brigit dropped, raising goosebumps on their skin. She now spoke in a whisper, causing them both to lean in closer to hear her better.

  “You are? That would be good. Many here are frightened. The creature seems insatiable.”

  This near to her, her features took on more clarity, showing a long nose that turned up at the tip, deep brackets from the nose to the outer corners of the mouth, and laugh lines around round eyes with long, thick eyelashes.

  “Tell us more about it,” urged Logan.

  “It started sometime over the summer. I’m not sure when exactly. Some of the old regulars started disappearing. And I don’t mean they faded away as worn-out ghosts do. I mean gone.”

  “Gone?” Brigit was also whispering. Perhaps it was the proximity of the ghost or because the air was growing thicker. The atmosphere was stifling.

  “Vanished. Wiped away. As if they never existed. Of course, some of them were pompous old boors. I would be a hypocrite to say I regretted their dissolution.”

  The figure of the ghost bobbed up and down slightly, her figure drifting with an unseen, unfelt, current.

  “Still, I don’t think Rodger Montague would have abandoned his poetry. Not him. He was very protective of his three self-published volumes of poems about his home country. Even so, he also vanished right as the fall semester began.”

  Logan and Brigit exchanged looks. That would be about the time Emma had been in the library stealing the tests for Granite. They would need to ask her if any work by Rodger Montague was still in the directory.

  The ghost seemed about to say more when a noise down the corridor caused her to frown. She floated upward, looking over her shoulder. “We are not alone. Be careful,” she warned before fading away.

  “Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better,” Logan told Brigit.

  The dryad gave him a quick nod in agreement. “Me neither.”

  The two continued down the corridor, the beam of their flashlights guiding their way.

  “Where’s that cursed cat?” muttered Brigit under her breath.

  The beam of Logan’s flashlight flashed onto something white, and they halted.