The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

it. Maybe some of your friends saw something.” I glanced out the window. As always, there were a few live ravens in sight.

“I’ll keep at it then. It’s personal, you see.”

His eyes glittered in the shifting light, but he gave away nothing.

“Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’ Good night, my friend.”

As I turned to step back over the rope I came face-to-face with Mr. Wi-Fi. Hoping he hadn’t heard me talking to the raven, I gave him a pleasant smile.

“May I help you find something?” I used my best reference librarian voice.

“Men’s room,” he replied, shifting and looking over my shoulder.

“Other end of the hall.”

“Oh, right, I guess I got turned around. Thanks.” He looked into the raven room once more, nodded at me and walked down the hall.

What was he doing lurking in the hall anyway? He was a man in his fifties and he’d been here all day, so he’d certainly been to the restroom more than once. Was he following me? Looking for a place to hide? I’d have to make sure I saw him leave.

I watched him go into the men’s room and then got back to work. I handed out a few more movies and a lot of new fiction. Mr. Wi-Fi returned to his computer. The rest of the crowd were regulars. I was starting another circuit of the reading room, when I spotted one of my favorite patrons curled up on the couch in the children’s area. Sadie Barrett was eight years old, with a sunny smile and a great love of reading. With long slender arms and legs, honey-brown hair and hazel eyes, she had a fey quality that made me think of her as a bookish wood sprite.

I walked over and sat next to her. From here I had a good view of the room and the front part of the hall.

“How do you like the book?” I asked. I had recommended The Mysterious Benedict Society to her earlier in the week, and she seemed to be making good progress with it.

She beamed at me. “I really, really like it!” she said. “I just loved all the tests at the beginning. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because in order to pass, you don’t have to be really smart, or good at school, but you have to be …” She searched for the word, her face pinched in concentration.

“Clever?” I asked.

“Yes! Clever!” she said, her smile back in place. “And you know what else? You know what I think the most important question is?”

“What?”

Sadie flipped through the book. Finding the page she wanted, she handed it to me. “This one,” she said, pointing.

“Are you brave?” I read. “You’re right. That is an important question. Reynie gives a pretty honest answer, doesn’t he?”

“I hope so,” Sadie quoted. “It was brave of him to be so honest, wasn’t it?”

“It was. Reynard is my favorite. I like the way he thinks.”

“I like Mr. Benedict best. He reminds me of my dad.”

I could see it. Rob Barrett was a highly respected botanist, but he did have a certain air of eccentricity about him.

“Did your dad bring you today?”

“No, my mom. She’s over there talking to some lady about the new library.” Sadie rolled her eyes.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t want a new library. I want this one.”

“Why? The new one would be closer to school, and have more books and computers, and more room. Kids would have their own space.”

“But the manor is special,” Sadie said. “Coming here is like—like going to Hogwarts!”

I smiled at her. “How so?”

“Because it’s big and old and fancy.” She looked around and leaned closer. “There’s a headless ghost, too, I’ve seen him. And the people in the pictures move. Sometimes they’re in their frames, and sometimes they’re not.”

I raised my eyebrows and looked out into the main hall.

“Yes,” she said, “those pictures.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The people in them move, but only at night.”

She leaned back and met my startled gaze with a solemn nod.

I knew she wasn’t pulling my leg. She looked and sounded serious. What she was suggesting was crazy, but she clearly believed it, and Sadie was both sane and honest. She had seen something strange and unrecognizable. Something—someone—had committed murder in this building, perhaps a stranger, someone so far unrecognized in the light of day.

Had she seen the killer?

A chill spread from the marrow of my bones outward. I looked around, noting the few people who might be close enough to hear us.

“I’ve never seen that,” I whispered back, “and I close a couple nights each week. Does it happen a lot?”

“I don’t think it happens every night, because I’ve only seen it a couple of times. The headless ghost I’ve only seen twice. Maybe you just can’t see them from your desk?” She looked down the room.

“Maybe not. When did you first notice the people in the pictures moving?”

She thought for a minute.

“Remember the big snowstorm? During February vacation?”

I nodded. She went on.

“It was that day when the library closed early, that I first saw the people in the pictures move. I thought my eyes were playing tricks, because of the lights flickering. But I’ve seen it since, so I know it really happens.”

She looked anxious, not sure she’d be believed.

“Tell me about the ghost. Did it really look like Nearly Headless Nick?”

“Sort of. It didn’t have a head at all that I could see, but it was sort of lumpy, like Nick when he lets his head go sideways. I only saw it twice, and it was dark.”

“It’s hard to get a good look at a ghost, from what I understand. When did you see it?”

“The first time was a couple of weeks ago, or maybe a month, but the second time was this week. I was here reading while my mom was at the jumble sale meeting, and she came to get me, but then she started to talking to someone like she always does. I was the only one still here, but