Free Cat's Quill by Anne Barwell Page B

smartarse comment it would not be tolerated. "A romantic fantasy, to be precise, although it is much more than that."
    "Of course it is." Donovan's tone was not mocking, but Tomas could not place it either, or the expression on Donovan's face. In lieu of that, it was easier to ignore both of them and continue onward with the details needed for this quest.
    He scanned the shelves, looking through the authors. They were standing in front of those beginning with T, so E had to be several shelves back. "Does this library have a separate section for fantasy, or is the fiction inclusive of all genres?"
    "We have a very good fantasy section." Donovan seemed amused by the question. "I wouldn't speak such sacrilege in Phoebe's hearing. All genres together, indeed. She's way too anal about stuff like that." He pointed to a bookcase on the wall by the window. Next to it was a chair with a crocheted rug draped over its back and a comfortable-looking cushion on its seat. "You can find them there. I don't remember seeing that author there, though, but then I'm not really into fantasy. I prefer an historical setting. Some time travel's cool though. Give me something with elements of both, and I'm happy."
    "I like fantasy because it creates realities." Tomas nodded his thanks and briskly walked over to where Donovan had indicated. Scanning the shelves quickly, he ran his fingers almost reverently over spines of the books, giving a low whistle of appreciation. Some of these were very rare, but there was a good mix of classics, both old and modern. Damn it. There was nothing by Emerys, not even the novel Tomas had already read.
    Hairs prickled on the back of his neck. Tomas rubbed at it absently, turning slightly. Phoebe was watching him, her hand on the phone she had just returned to its cradle. Just because something was not on the shelf did not mean the library did not possess a copy. She had mentioned a catalogue earlier. And, of course, there was that special collection at the top of the spiral staircase.
    Making a decision, he walked over to Phoebe's desk. "I'm looking for a book," he said, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. An elderly woman, browsing in the detective section to his right, looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. Unsure as to why, he found himself returning the gesture.
    "This is a library, so you are in the right place to do that." The side of Phoebe's mouth twitched. "Perhaps you would like to be more specific? A title or author is often something we librarians find useful."
    "I don't know the title," Tomas had to admit.
    "Helpful is another word which means the same thing." Phoebe shook her head, amused. "Do you know if this book exists, or are you looking for a sequel you hope has been written?"
    He stared at her. "It exists."
    "I see." Phoebe picked up a pen from her desk. "You'd be surprised how many people ask for nonexistent books. Just because you enjoyed the story doesn't mean the author chose to continue it." She paused, looking around for notepaper. He spied a pad buried under a book and handed it to her. "Thank you. So no title, but you have an author?" Phoebe glanced up at him; she seemed to not only be looking at him, but through him, into the private part of himself he kept well hidden. "You do have an author, don't you?"
    "Wynne Emerys," Tomas said, forcing himself not to avert his eyes. "He wrote In Hidden Places ."
    "I see." Phoebe wrote the information on her pad. "When was the original book written? Sometimes that can be helpful." The fact that she hadn't appeared to have heard of Emerys was not encouraging; none of the other librarians he'd asked had either.
    "It was published in 1941." Tomas watched her as she placed the pad on top of a set of small wooden drawers, pulling out the fifth one down on the left. "I can look, if you're busy. I have used a card catalogue before."
    "I'm sure you have, Mr. Kemp." Phoebe began flipping through the cards. "Emerys. Emerys. I wonder if you're as immortal as