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His thick wool coat was burning in several spots, as was the tip of his hat. The red embers slowly spread through it like a cancer. He raised his heavy hand, and put it out.
"Did you find it?"
His small beady eyes scanned the darkness. A tall, thin women emerged, her skirt was cut like a knife, every line as sharp as a razor. Her long black hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail. She wore a pair of wire framed glasses that looked like the killing mechanism of a mouse trap.
"Well, speak brute, did you find it or not," the Dark Librarian hissed.
"I looked everywhere you told me to look, flipped over every table you told me to flip, even toppled a couple of bookcases for fun. If it was there, I would have found it and it wasn't," the Old Stone Man replied.
"And you're sure?" she said, scowling.
"As sure as I am that I wasn't the only one looking for your ... book. Someone else was down there, and recently. I counted two pairs of footprints, sneakers. They knew where to look, they had help."
"My assistant?" she sneered.
"I would assume so."
She craned her neck like a vulture, her anger simmering just below a boil.
"I should have dealt with that filthy stray when I had the chance. I want ... that ... book."
"It wasn't a complete loss," he said, reaching into his pocket. He raised a clenched fist then flicked something with his stubby fingers. It frantically spun in the air before she caught it. She held it up.
"A button?" she asked.
"No, not just a button, a crumb, one you can use all your ... hocus pocus on to allow us ... me to flush out those rats."
"Clever ... very clever for a block of granite."
Her fingers closed over the button and squeezed. A violet flash of light erupted from with in, withered and died. She opened her boney hand. A single purple butterfly rested on her palm. It flapped it's wings several times and flew off into the night.
"Find them, find all of them. Kill them if you need too, but bring me my book. And don't fail me again."
A pair of charcoal black wings unfolded from behind her back. The feathers were the size of butcher knives and equally as sharp. They rose like a dark halo around her. With a mighty whoosh, they hammered down and rocketed her up and away into the darkness.
"So, I guess I'm walking then, am I?" he sneered, turned and followed the path of the purple butterfly.
End of Part One.
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