The Woman Who Shouldn’t Be Here
The door to the SCIF never gave in quietly, not even for a former cat burglar like Drusilla St. Augustine. Especially not since she’d left that life behind for a more dangerous career as a “librarian” for the priesthood of a long-dead god.
I spotted Dru bracing her shoulder against the reinforced glass, a heavy cardboard box wedged awkwardly under her chin and a keycard dangling out of reach from her lanyard. Her elbow jabbed the biometric panel with no result except an irritated beep and a red flashing light. Her muttered “Damned thing” barely reached me across the vestibule to the unobtrusive scholars’ library, but the frustration on her face was clear enough.
From the top of the stairs above the more mundane Florida University library, I tugged my smartwatch off and dropped my phone, watch, and a flash drive I definitely wasn’t supposed to have into a GSA-approved security container. I shut the heavy drawer with a dull clunk, then spun the dial clockwise—once, twice, three, four turns—until the numbers blurred together and the safe was blind again. Only then did I straighten, palms empty, ready to enter the St. Augustine Special Collections Library.
“Uh-oh,” I said to Raven, who was already securing his phone and watch in a second safe. “Looks like Dru is losing another fight with the door. Third time this week.”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes met mine briefly, the ghost of a smile touching the corners of his mouth. That was pure Raven—communicating volumes without a sound. He just moved forward, all swift precision and quiet efficiency. Whether he was euphoric or annoyed, Raven Darbyshire always moved like water sliding over polished stone.
His long brown hair was pulled back in its usual topknot, and the sleeves of his charcoal button-down were rolled to the elbows, revealing the Walking Lightning bind rune on his right wrist—the mark of the Daeganean priesthood. As the Last Priest, he carried the dormant god Daegan in his crown chakra, a burden that lent him an otherworldly stillness.
Except for the pewter cuffs that hid my childhood scars underneath, my own wrists were bare. I wasn’t a member of the priesthood. Just one of their supporters. Like Dru. I’d been working with Dru at the library for a couple of years now, and while I’d learned plenty about the ancient order dedicated to guiding humanity through the end times, I remained on the periphery, watching, learning, protecting where I could.
I jogged the last few steps toward my mentor. “Need a hand?”
“At least four!” Dru didn’t even try to hide her exasperation. “Please. Before I either drop this or dislocate something important.”
Raven reached her first, of course. He took the box from her arms like it weighed nothing, flattened his access badge against the reader, and punched in his code. He waited for the green light and a quiet click, then carried the box through the threshold into the library’s reception area. Smiling back at Dru through the glass wall, he set it down on the work table closest to the circulation desk and made a gesture as though he were presenting a prize on a game show.
Waiting for the heavy door to close again, Dru exhaled hard and rolled her shoulders. “Thanks. I should’ve waited, but I was too excited to get it inside.” Smoothing her linen jacket, a deep indigo that brought out the silver in her brown hair, she repeated the entry process with her own badge and personal code. At fifty-something—forty-something? sixty-something?—Drusilla St. Augustine carried herself with the authority of someone who had seen too much to be bothered by trivial matters.
Following the same entrance protocol, I stepped in after them, the air in the library-within-a-library already calming me. Paper, incense, history. The smell of centuries of knowledge. The energy from all the people who had read these books buzzed inside my skin. As an empath, I doubted I’d ever get used to it. Raven’s steady presence a few steps ahead anchored me as always, a quiet counterbalance to the emotional cacophony that threatened to overwhelm my senses.
“Did the Historical Society finally deliver?” I asked as I watched Raven tear into the box.
“Five books.” Her eyes were practically glowing. “All marked. All legit. Picked up from little free libraries across the country.”
She gestured toward the box with a kind of reverence and lowered her voice. “The Historical Society’s outer circle has been busy. They’ve been dropping off marked texts anonymously in free book boxes all over the Southeast.”
I leaned in, the scent of degrading bindings and old ink pulling me closer before I even saw what was inside. This was the part of my job I loved most—the discovery, the connection to something ancient and powerful. Before coming to work for Dru, I’d been rudderless in my life. Now I was part of something much bigger, even if my role was relatively small.
The reading room was mostly quiet with only a few students and visiting scholars scattered around the reception area outside of the secret vaults. Samantha. Godfrey. Others I didn’t know. At the circulation desk, the only trained librarian among us was sorting acquisition cards like always, methodical and focused. Charlie’s sandy hair fell across his forehead as he bent over his work and tried to pretend I wasn’t there.
And then I saw her.
I hadn’t noticed at first—probably some act of self-preservation—but there she was, sitting beside Charlie like she belonged. Her hair that lacquered shade of red, the scent of perfume too sweet, too artificial, already creeping in around the edges of my awareness. Her hand rested lazily on his arm, possessive, territorial. The ring on her finger caught the light—her engagement ring Charlie had bought.
For me.
Not her. Me. Even if both it and Charlie were hers now.
Rune. Or whatever her real name is.
A sharp wave of emotion crashed over me before I could brace—rage, grief, betrayal—and I turned my face away fast enough to make my neck ache. I took a long breath and focused on the box instead. It wasn’t that I still wanted Charlie, but that charlatan’s presence here felt like salt in a wound I’d thought was finally healing.
Rune wasn’t even supposed to be in here. Dru had banned her from the Special Collections Library outright after catching her attempting to use Charlie’s phone to photograph restricted texts. Afterward, Dru had banned all phones inside the door, even staff phones. Rune had wriggled back in on a technicality: she enrolled as a student at Florida University—auditing classes, supposedly, since she never actually attended—and now claimed full access to the main university library, which housed the Special Collections vaults. I’d found her here a few times since, thanks to Charlie.
Dru’s only explanation, when I asked? “Keep your enemies close.”
I caught Raven studying me as he opened the box. His expression hadn’t changed, but I felt the subtle shift in his energy—a careful watchfulness that wasn’t intrusive, just… present. No pity, no expectation that I’d fall apart. Just quiet acknowledgment of the moment. He knew about Charlie and me. Knew about the messy end of things. He’d seen it firsthand in Ireland, where Charlie and I had met him on an assignment to bring back a dangerous book, but instead, Charlie had brought back a new wife, and I’d brought back a broken heart. Out of those ruins, my friendship with Raven had blossomed.
I gave him the smallest of nods—our silent language developing its own vocabulary after months of missions together.
I’m fine. Let’s work.
His eyes crinkled at the corners, just slightly.
I know you are.
Dru didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. “Let’s see what they sent.”
She pulled back the wrapping paper with care and lifted the first book.
“Astrological Almanac,” she read. She glanced quickly at the book and made an initial assessment. “1879. Frayed linen cover, celestial wheel, full of hand-inked tables. Pages are delicate but intact. Careful notations of planetary movements and star charts. Oh, look! Written observations in the margins. It says here, ‘Jupiter ascendant brings promise of abundance if properly channeled.’ Emry’s going to love—”
Eyes wide, she stopped herself. Raven and I went still. So did Samantha across the room. Even Charlie glanced up.
Dru cleared her throat. “Well, Lilah, why don’t you set this one aside for cataloging? Gate 1.”
She handed it to me. Her hand shook. I let my fingers graze the old cloth cover, the history practically humming in my hands before I set it down on the table between us.
The second volume was a thicker leather-bound book with tooled borders of braided wheat. It didn’t look quite as old as the astrology guide.
“Agricultural Cycle Guide for Sacred Land. Meticulous diagrams of planting formations, charts of lunar cycles tied to crop rotations, and instructions for blessing fields before and after harvest.” She sniffed. “Still smells of herbs and soil. Rare and beautifully kept. Gate 1.”
She moved to the third, more battered than the others.
“Field Notes of a Daeganean Pilgrim. Half-scorched, smells like incense and rosemary. Gate 2, maybe 3.”
That one made her pause. The contents weren’t insignificant enough to discuss in the open. The book looked like it had survived a fire—one edge charred black, the canvas cover stained with what might have been smoke or blood. Inside were hastily scrawled notes from a wandering priest, descriptions of rituals performed under different moons, maps with sections crossed out and redrawn, and sigils I’d never seen in any of our other texts.
I knew what Dru meant by “Gate 2, maybe 3.” The library’s security increased with each Gate—Gate 1 was where we stood now, the reception area accessible to scholars with appointments and university students with badges and prior approval. Gate 2 held texts that required special clearance. Gate 3 housed books that could do real damage in the wrong hands. Beyond that were Gates 4 through 9, each more restricted than the last. Even Charlie, our credentialed librarian, wasn’t aware of the most secure gates.
Samantha drifted closer from her chair at a round table, a tattered copy of Manifesting Your Ideal Timeline tucked under one arm. She’d changed lately—less of the sharp Goth aesthetic that had been her signature since I’d known her. She’d been solely focused on the dark, and now was solely focused on the light. Her hair was still that deep blue-black, with blonde roots, but the dramatic eye makeup had been traded for something minimal, and her lipstick today was pink. Pink. On Samantha.
“Can I see one? Um, please?”
Samantha’s eyes were wide with a kind of eagerness I’d never seen in her before. Bright, even. Unclouded by the usual mental turmoil that only my own past traumas surpassed. Samantha hadn’t treated me well my first autumn at the library, but she, too, had been a victim of circumstances. Usually, Samantha’s interest in the library’s collection extended only as far as she could glean dark magic. This was something else.
Hesitant at first, Dru nodded. “The astrology and agricultural guides are fine. Here, under supervision. After Charlie chips them.”
“Deal,” Samantha said with a grin, stepping closer. She reached for the agricultural guide first, running her fingertips lightly over the braided wheat pattern on its cover. She didn’t seem to mind the implication that the book needed a grain-of-sand-sized chip pressed between the endpaper and the board to make sure she didn’t steal it. Samantha may have turned over a new leaf, but Dru wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t trust her either, love-and-light be damned.
Rune, still draped around Charlie like ivy, edged forward, too, pulling him with her. She didn’t say anything. Just nuzzled his arm again and tilted her head, peering into the box like she had any business there. I shot her a glare she completely ignored.
I could feel my fingers curling into fists at my sides. Raven subtly shifted his weight, moving just an inch closer to me—not hovering, not protective in a way that suggested I couldn’t handle myself, but positioned like we were partners covering each other’s blind spots. It was his version of “I’ve got your back” without the empty words.
Despite Dru’s claims about keeping enemies close, I couldn’t understand why she tolerated Rune’s presence at all. Even though the head of the priesthood had demanded it for now, under the theory that Rune had a connection to an old enemy and eventually, with enough rope, Rune would hang both herself and her contact with a rival priesthood. There was something wrong about her, something that set off all my internal alarms. The way she’d appeared out of nowhere, the way Charlie had fallen under her spell so completely, the way she always seemed to be exactly where she shouldn’t be. Of course, I knew exactly what she was guilty of, even if Charlie hadn’t believed me. Regardless of my past history with her, the woman was dangerous and in more than a steal-your-man sort of way.
Dru reached into the box for the fourth book. This one shimmered slightly in the light—deep blue Morocco leather, the title tooled in silver leaf: The Wards of Braided Light: Protection Spells and Rituals.
The cover caught the library’s overhead lights differently than the others, reflecting back with a subtle sheen—like oil on water, or enchantment. It was older than the almanac—mid-18th century, perhaps, judging by the raised bands and stitching—but in remarkable condition, as if it had been kept in perfect darkness. Or protected by something more.
“Gate 4,” Dru whispered, glancing warily at Rune. Whatever was important about this one wasn’t for discussion here.
Raven shifted on his feet, hand out. “I’m taking this one.”
There was an urgency in his voice I recognized immediately. Raven rarely showed alarm, but I could read the tension in his shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eyes. He gripped the book to his chest, his forearms crossing it.
Without a word, I stepped to his side—close enough that our shoulders almost touched. It wasn’t discussed or planned; we’d just developed this habit of moving in tandem when things got tense. Like magnets finding their proper alignment.
“We’ll authenticate it for you, Dru.”
What I meant was: We’ll make sure it’s safe. Some of the oldest protection texts contained warnings for reasons—rituals that backfired, wards that consumed their casters, bindings that broke in catastrophic ways. If this was authentic, we needed to know what we were dealing with. This was probably the most important of the five books, by far.
Frowning, Rune merely pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, but I saw the shift in her posture, how she leaned in just enough to read the title, how her fingers itched like she wanted to touch something that didn’t belong to her.
She’s good at touching things that don’t belong to her.
Charlie noticed, too, covering her hand with his own in what looked like reassurance but might have been restraint.
Dru reached for the final book.
Sleek. Black. No title on the cover.
She lifted it slowly, like it might bite. The cover was modern—smooth leather or perhaps some synthetic material, with no markings visible to the naked eye. It felt wrong among the others, too new, too anonymous.
“If this is what I think it is,” she murmured. Dru gave Raven a sidelong glance and opened the cover.
Samantha inhaled sharply and peered around Charlie as she tried to read the text upside down. “The Book of Heroes: A Compendium of Daeganean Lineages, 1915 to 2015.”
Rune gave Samantha enough of a nudge that she almost fell into Raven. The two book thieves scowled at each other.
Dru pulled the book closer, protectively inching it away from Charlie and the two women. The book didn’t seem dangerous at all, but the fact that the two women had been gawking at it was a little too telling.
“I’m going to need everyone to take one step backward. I need air.”
No one moved. I was certain Dru wasn’t talking to Raven and me.
“Charlie? Rune? Go back to the circulation desk. Samantha, take six steps backward, please.”
As soon as the circle around her thinned, Dru flipped the title page. The first page bore a photograph of a smiling man in his late forties or early fifties, silver hair swept back from a tanned face. Beside it was a detailed biography in a crisp, modern typeface.
“Harlan Coker. Priest. Baptist minister. Motivational speaker. Dangerous man.” Dru’s voice had gone flat, clinical.
I frowned. “Never heard of him.”
“Good,” Dru said. “Keep it that way.”
Samantha moved closer, her expression suddenly intense. “Reverend Coker? He’s changed a lot of lives. His MOJO seminars? Manifest Optimum JOy? I’ve been to a few. I’m going to one tonight in Orlando. I’ve watched all of his YouTube videos and all the free workshops on his website. I think he’s amazing.” With every syllable, she edged closer to the book. Her fingers touched the edge of the page with something close to worship.
That explained the transformation—the pink lipstick, the lightness in her step, the determined turning from her love of darkness. Samantha had found a guru.
Dru’s mouth tightened. “He’s still dangerous.” She didn’t elaborate, just turned a thick block of pages.
The name Aoife Jung appeared beside a photo of a stern-looking woman with a pristine updo of white-blonde hair. The text described her as the current Ranking High Priestess of the Order of Daegan and the United States Secretary of State.
Raven was already leaning over Dru’s shoulder, scanning the pages as she turned them.
“Siobhan,” he murmured just loud enough for me to hear him. “Aoife. Lady Cora. Moira. Terrence Vanderholt. Tessa. My parents.” His voice grew quiet. “This goes all the way back to Jaryx. Even before.”
The Wolf Queen, Jaryx, was a legend among the priesthood. Said to have led them through the darkest period a thousand years ago, establishing the sanctuaries, codifying the rituals, all before feeding her enemies to her wolves. Prophecy also said it was her reincarnation who was to lead humanity into the next age after an extinction event, but Aoife was the leader now. I’d only ever seen Jaryx’s name in our oldest texts, usually with either praise and prayers from her fans or condemnation from her enemies as a harbinger of destruction. There was nothing between.
Raven paused, turning another page slowly. “Each entry’s formatted the same—front and back of a single sheet. It’s not just a list. It’s lineage. History. Personal and political.”
“And this was found in a little library on a street corner?” I asked. “Wouldn’t something like this be kept secure?”
Dru shook her head. “Not really. It’s just a who’s who of people the author considered to be heroes. Probably Gate 2 material, but more for privacy reasons of the people listed here. Looks like most are dead or elderly. Other than Aoife and one other priestess, I think Harlan is the only one still alive, and I’d hardly call him a hero.”
“He is to me,” Samantha squeaked.
Raven added, “My guess? Someone found it in an estate sale or old attic. Probably passed through hands, ended up in one of those little libraries. Nobody outside the order would’ve recognized it for what it was. No more important than finding an old volume of high school students who excelled and paid thirty-five bucks to get the book to prove it.”
I shrugged. “Not too many hands if it’s a hundred-year who’s who that ends in 2015.”
He didn’t seem to hear me. His fingers trailed over his parents’ names on one of the pages. There was history there—painful history I knew only pieces of. Raven rarely spoke of his family, of the circumstances that had led him to the priesthood so young.
I could feel the tension in him, a stillness that went beyond his usual calm. My hand hovered near his elbow—not quite touching, but close enough to ground him if needed. It was what he’d done for me countless times before, that quiet reassurance that someone understood, someone was there, without forcing a conversation he wasn’t ready to have.
“I’d like to examine that one myself,” Dru said. “Unless you want to authenticate that one, too, Raven.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need a book telling me they were heroes. Thank you, but no. You can authenticate this one. Lilah and I will take the spell book instead.”
Dru closed the book carefully and set it on the table beside the others. “I’ll do the authentication after I get back from my dentist appointment. Charlie, please chip the first two books so Samantha can enjoy them, and then lock the other two in the Gate 1 safe.” She tilted her head to the in-wall safe beyond the circulation desk.
Before she finished her sentence, Rune was already reaching for both books. Dru handed the four directly to Charlie.
“And Charlie? Do not, under any circumstances, digitize these books. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pouted, then glanced away. He still hadn’t lived down the last time he uploaded a book of medieval spells of mass destruction to an online world filled with avatars.
Rune whispered something in his ear, and I saw his face change—soften, then harden in quick succession. Something passed between them that made my skin crawl. Maybe it was because she’d discovered he kept souvenirs of our relationship.
“Lilah, Raven, we’ll talk more after I get this tooth repaired.” Dru rubbed her jaw, then checked her watch. “Do you think you can have the spell book authenticated by the time I get back?”
“We’ll do our best.” Raven waved at her as she hurried out. Then, the blue book still in his hands, he nodded at me. “Ready?” He tucked it carefully under his arm.
“Always,” I replied with a half-smile. It wasn’t bravado—the truth was, missions with Raven had become my anchor in the chaos of the past year. Where most of my life had come undone, this—working side by side with him—felt solid.
I nodded and followed him toward the door that looked as if it led to a supply closet but actually led deeper into the library’s hidden vaults. Gate 4 would be the perfect space for us to do our work. Whatever Raven already knew about the spell book, he knew it would need containment that the other books would not.
Raven went first, and I waited for the door to close behind him before I scanned my keycard and waited for the familiar click of the lock. I stepped into Gate 2. Just before the security door closed behind me, I glanced over my shoulder—and froze.
The table was empty.
The Book of Heroes was gone.
And so was Charlie.
You’re reading The Book of Heroes free, right here in the Library. Want a copy to keep on your Kindle or e-reader? Buy the e-book direct from me →
© 2025 Lorna Tedder. All rights reserved. Free to read here — please don’t repost elsewhere.