Where Dangerous Books Sleep
Gate 9 wasn’t a room. It was a myth. A warehouse that stretched into shadows, the last stop for books too dangerous to name. Most members of the priesthood would never see it. And even those who did only entered with purpose—and rarely alone.
I stepped inside and felt the heaviness of centuries of darkness in the hush.
Both dread and reverence shrouded my shoulders as I crossed the threshold. This wasn’t my first time in Gate 9, but each visit felt like an intrusion, as if the place itself knew I didn’t truly belong among its dangerous secrets.
Or maybe I did, and I was somehow just as dangerous.
My mind drifted to my first cataloging assignment here, three months after I’d joined Dru’s team. I’d dropped a brass locker key, and the sound had echoed so loudly that three books on a nearby shelf had rattled their chains in response. Dru had placed her hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Don’t show fear. Some of them can smell it.”
I’d laughed then, thinking she was joking.
I wasn’t so sure anymore.
The air was cool and dry, kept at a constant temperature and humidity. It was infused with the scents of dust, old leather, and something sharper—ozone, maybe. Magic and mildew? My footfalls echoed across the stone floor, softened only by the low hum of the wards that guarded this place. It was a sound too low to hear with the ears but felt in the chest, like a vibration under the ribs.
Dim cage lights hung high above, suspended on chains. They cast golden circles of light across the aisles but left the towering shelves in deep shadow.
Every shelf was oversized—industrial steel, reinforced. Some books were wrapped in chains, others in heavy cloth embroidered with wards. A few rested behind panes of darkened glass. Interspersed among them were crates sealed with wax sigils and unmarked containers that looked like they might contain plutonium. Or prophecy.
I passed a volume bound in what looked like rusted iron. Its cover had been etched with symbols that seemed to squirm under my gaze. My third time in Gate 9, Dru had shown me how to catalog such a book properly without looking directly at it.
“Some texts,” she’d explained, “aren’t meant to be read. Only contained.”
On a lower shelf, a small box buzzed faintly. Protective sigils had been burned into its wood surface. Last year, we’d found it vibrating so violently it had started to crack its containment. Raven had spent three hours rechanting the binding spells while I’d held a shield of protection around us both.
Gate 9 was sacred. A sanctum for relics that couldn’t be lost and shouldn’t be found. Like The Key of Hell and Death and other books that were weapons of mass destruction or cookbooks of dangerous spells or instructions for resurrection rituals. Books that could destroy realities or bend time made their way here, as well.
I had been here before, occasionally alone. I was authorized to catalog books, to log them in, and escort them to the high shelves, but rarely alone. Dru always told me it was a two-person threshold.
Just in case something woke up.
I hated being in here without a shadow at my back. The air always felt heavier, like the shelves themselves were watching.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, Dru was already here.
She sat curled into one of the old wing chairs between two vaults, her posture relaxed but tired. She still wore the soft, professional clothes she’d thrown on for the dentist—black pants that didn’t wrinkle, a soft blouse in indigo that draped at the neckline. Her jaw was slightly puffy, her eyes shadowed but calm. There was a faint scent of minty toothpaste that didn’t quite belong in Gate 9.
Across from her, just inside the door, stood Raven. He didn’t move when I entered, but I felt the shift in him—his shoulders straightening, the quiet inhale that meant he saw me, felt me. In his hands, he held The Book of Heroes, its sleek black cover catching the cage light and reflecting nothing. No title, no markings—just a surface like obsidian, dense with silence.
It pulsed against Raven’s palms, not with light but with pressure—like the names inside were trying to press outward. For a moment, I imagined I could hear them whispering, their stories demanding to be remembered, or resisting erasure even now. Raven’s knuckles were white with effort, tiny beads of sweat gathering at his temples.
“It’s still active,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I can feel names shifting inside it, appearing and disappearing. Like it hasn’t settled yet. Like there’s something buzzing in there, and if I open it, wasps will fly out.”
He held it like it had grown heavier since the last time I saw it. Maybe it had. Magic did that—made things heavier, harder, more real.
Dru smiled faintly. “There she is.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “This book belongs here,” I said quietly. “Gate 9. Where no one outside the priesthood will ever be able to touch it again.”
Raven nodded once. He looked like he wanted to speak but didn’t. His grip on the book was firm, but his arms hung slightly away from his body, as if it burned a little to touch.
“Mmm.” Whatever Dru mumbled wasn’t discernible through her swollen jaw. She winced in frustration.
Understanding, Raven shook his head at her. “What Dru is trying to say is that you and I are going to take this book to its new home: Aisle Gebo, row Berkano, stall 18, locker 4. Bound in leather straps and locked in a Faraday cage.”
Dru exhaled, rubbing her jaw with one hand. “If I sound a little muffled, it’s because the numbing agent is just now wearing off. I wasn’t expecting to be back here tonight.” She worked her jaw from side to side. “Ah, that’s better. Raven’s been filling me in. Or trying to. I got the bullet points: realities shifting, spells gone sideways, Aoife being Aoife. Jakin being… not Jakin.”
I stepped forward, my eyes adjusting to the gloom between the shelves. “I’m just… I’m just glad we made it back. Glad this place is still the same.”
Dru nodded as she watched me with that professor’s thoughtful stillness. “This place didn’t change, but you made it back changed. Whether you realize it or not. You’ve seen how easy it is to change reality with the smallest interaction and how far-reaching it is. It means you’ll be more aware of how what you do now changes the future—yours and maybe the whole world’s.”
I hesitated. “There were realities where you weren’t my mentor.”
Dru cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not surprised. Some of the people in that book, well, if you erased them from the world, I wouldn’t have met them, for good or for bad, and my life would be very different now. Because of what they did or didn’t do, I might never have met you. Those realities would have been a loss for me.”
“In a couple of them…” I trailed off, the words catching in my throat. “You were my mother.”
Raven flinched slightly. I felt it more than saw it. His eyes darted to Dru’s face, then away.
Dru’s expression didn’t change at first, but her smile faltered, and her eyes briefly glistened. She blinked slowly.
“I’d be honored to be your mother,” she said, the words quiet and steady. “If you’d be happy to have me.”
With his gaze fixed on the ground, Raven stepped subtly closer. When he finally looked up, his expression was unreadable, but I caught the brief flicker of longing there, something unsaid. Like a secret only he and Dru knew.
I hadn’t guessed how much I’d needed to hear those words from the only mother figure I’d had as an adult. Not just acceptance. Invitation. Not a mother I’d lost, but one who would’ve chosen me for the daughter she never had.
“I would be, yes.” My voice was rougher than I intended. “Very happy.”
I smiled, but there was something in me that ached. I could get over Charlie and Jakin, both, but I’d never fully gotten over the loss of my mother. That’s why Dru’s maternal behavior felt special to me. “It was weird,” I said softly. “But it also felt… right.”
Raven shifted, his expression thoughtful. “Lilah, do you remember anything about a spell that might have made you forget—”
Dru’s eyes snapped to his, sharp and warning. She was mouthing something at him, shaking her head slightly.
I looked between them, confused. “A spell? What are you talking about? Of course, Dru isn’t really my mom! Don’t be silly!”
Raven’s mouth opened as if to continue, but Dru’s glare could have melted steel. He muttered something under his breath about “just thinking that Terre did something to protect both you and—” then caught himself. He closed his mouth again, looking uncertain.
Dru cleared her throat and looked away. She brushed imaginary lint off her sleeve. “Well. That version of me had excellent taste. Weird or not.”
The moment passed like a ripple in deep water—tender, quiet, unfinished.
Dru straightened in the chair and rested her elbow on the armrest. She tapped one finger absently on the wood. “Now. Rune is officially barred from the Special Collections Library. If Charlie lets her back in again, he’s done.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’d really fire him?”
“I’d hate to,” Dru admitted. “He’s one of the only credentialed librarians we have. The rest of us are guardians or acquirers, not formally trained. But I’ll start looking for a replacement.”
“She’s not a kleptomaniac,” I said. “She knows what she’s stealing.”
Dru’s expression sharpened. Her tone shifted—less mentor, more magistrate. “Exactly. She knew the book hadn’t been authenticated or logged. No microchips, no digital record. She knew it wouldn’t trigger security. She saw an opportunity.”
The Book of Heroes still pulsed faintly in Raven’s hands.
“I’ve been watching her,” Dru continued. “She’s been feeding information to outsiders. Not for ideology. For profit. I’m trying to trace the network she’s working with. So far, I have two possibilities. Three if I count enemies of the priesthood for the last eighty or more years. Aoife thinks we should let it run longer—use Rune as bait and catch a bigger fish.”
“Not counting Samantha’s ex-boyfriend, right, Dru?”
“Right. He was opportunistic but not clever like Rune. Or as well-connected. As soon as one adversary is quelled, it seems a new one pops up. But I’m doing my best to lay the trap Aoife wants. Whether they’re mundane or magical thieves. Sometimes I even plant documents. Half-truths, dead ends, dates that lead nowhere. Rune’s convinced she’s found a secret channel. She has no idea she’s the one being used. We’ve intercepted three buyers in the last month. Real buyers. Real weapons. None of them magical.”
I blinked. “You’re running a counterintelligence op out of a library.”
“Of course,” Dru said. “It’s Special Collections. You think those scrolls are just for display?”
She twisted forward, wincing slightly as her jaw protested the movement. “Rune’s gotten sloppy. She can’t access the truly valuable books in the library anymore. I’ve made sure of that. But she still thinks she’s smarter than we are. Within a few weeks… months… certainly within the year, I’ll know the extent of her network and whether she’s supported by a rival priesthood. Or… even within the Order of Daegan.”
“You think she could be working for someone inside?” I asked, surprised.
Dru’s mouth tightened. “There are always those who think they know better. Who see power and want it for themselves, not for the greater good. The priesthood has survived this long because they maintain vigilance, even against their own.”
I clenched my jaw. “Charlie will never leave her.”
“Good,” Dru interrupted gently. “He gets what he deserves. Meanwhile, she uses him to get information to the priesthood’s enemies, and I use Charlie to feed it to her. It’s been working fine for the last few months, but what happened with The Book of Heroes just slipped by me. Toothaches are my kryptonite, I guess. But Lilah, if her presence causes you pain, I’ll get rid of them both and figure out how to explain it to Aoife later. I know she thinks keeping Charlie and Rune around will eventually pay off, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes if it means you won’t get hurt.”
Raven reached for my hand. “Let’s put this book in the right hands—none. Shall we?”
One stray hair had made its way from his topknot to his cheek, as if marking a new spot for me to dream of coming back to.
I looked at Raven, at the loose strand of hair that had fallen across his face again, just like it had before the spell. The bookmark, I thought. The thread we’d returned to.
I remembered every reality where he didn’t exist. Where I didn’t. And now here he was, book in one hand, mine in the other. A priest. A partner. And how blessed I felt to be in the same incarnation, perfect or not, with him.
There would be time to grieve the people we’d lost again. Like Emry, his parents, his foster mother. But right now? I was still here. With him. The constant across all those shifting worlds.
“Lilah,” Dru said, “did you hear me? If Rune and Charlie cause you any pain—”
I didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t looking at Dru. I was watching Raven, still standing near the entrance, still holding the book like it might come alive at any second or it might fall apart and erase everything he cared about, still waiting patiently for my answer to his earlier invitation. The hum of magic circled us like a closed current.
I took a slow breath. If Charlie had met me that day on the Hill of Tara instead of standing me up when we were on assignment in Ireland, if Charlie had gone down on one knee on the Cliffs of Moher to propose to me instead of Rune, if things had worked out with Charlie, I would never have known Raven as anything more than a colleague within the Daeganean library system. We would never have become friends, let alone best friends. I would have married Charlie and been faithful but unhappy after a while with his subtle manipulations and hidden neediness, and with his jealousies, I would never have been friends with Raven.
Funny, how such minor interactions can change a whole reality.
It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, and there was a part of me that still cared about Charlie and knew he still cared about me, but I’d definitely gotten the better deal.
“Lilah?” Dru said again. “I said, if Rune and Charlie cause you any pain—”
“No, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
I walked over to Raven, tucked that loose strand of hair behind his ear, and took his hand.
⁂
THE END
Dear Reader:
Laced with dry humor, sharp twists, emotional intimacy, and an undercurrent of dark academia, The Payback Archives series is a masterclass in low-key vengeance without overt violence or heavy spice. Begin with the playful misrule of The Guide to Petty Revenge, Raven and Lilah’s mission-of-the-week that occurs just days before The Book of Heroes’ adventures, then ascend through the surgical finesse of The Blueprint for Quiet Sabotage, which occurs days after The Book of Heroes.
All the stories in the universe of the Secret Lives of Librarians can be read in any order, unless specified in a numbered series like The Payback Archives.
What to Read Next
Thank you for reading The Book of Heroes. The Payback Archives continue with Book 2, The Blueprint for Quiet Sabotage. [Lorna: one-line hook / where to send readers next]. Read it free in the Library →
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