Gail smiled fondly at the snorer wearing the newspaper. “Ah—I forgot, one of our faithful patrons who frequents this room is here tonight. No matter—there’s another spot we can use!”
She led us off through the shelves again, zig zagging to the opposite side of the library. She stopped at a giant bay window—which showed the inky night—and sat down on a blue overstuffed chair.
There was a couch, a matching chair to the one Gail had taken, and a coffee table arranged between the three.
Binx and April immediately claimed the couch, leaving the chair for me, but I didn’t like the idea of sitting down even if this was for a casual interview. （Occupational hazard from my slayer days.）
Instead, I awkwardly stood at the open end of the coffee table.
“There we are! Now, ask me whatever you like,” Gail said.
“Do you mind if I take some notes?” I pulled my cellphone out of a pocket.
“Not at all. Go right ahead!”
“T-thank you.” I opened my notes app, and felt my awkwardness fade away as my work mode switched on. “I know the building was closed, but do you have any idea how the fire started?”
“None.” Gail shook her head, making her oversized dangly earrings—stacks of books shaped out of clay—bob. “We have security cameras, but they’re all pointed at the entrance and emergency exits. We reviewed the footage this morning, and you can see when the fire starts—it casts light on the dimmed entrance—but that’s it.”
It must have caught on fire fast for there to be a visible difference… unless that was just when the fire got big enough to notice?
“How was the fire department notified?” I asked.
“A patron who lives close enough to see the library from his house got up to let his dog outside and saw the fire, so he called the fire department. I shudder to think what would have happened if he hadn’t seen it!” Gail theatrically shivered, but the worry that clouded her kind brown eyes was real.
I tapped away on my cellphone. “Nobody reported seeing anything else?”
“No.” Gail said. “At least no one has said anything yet. It’s possible someone might come forward since the newspaper did an article about the fire today. Unless… did the supernaturals hear something?” Her gaze flickered from me to Binx and April.
Oh, I think that means I screwed up by going straight to the serious questions. I am not good with interviews!
Binx was looking around but April gave me an encouraging smile, so I was still on interview duty despite the blunder.
“No,” I said. “I was instructed to check in with you by my supervisor—to follow up so we can have the complete story in our notes.”
“The Wizards at House Tellier won’t get in trouble for helping us, will they?” Gail asked.
“No,” I said. “Supernaturals are allowed to use magic if it means saving someone—libraries included,” I said.
Wait, that didn’t make any sense—libraries aren’t people.
Gail was delighted by my blunder. She laughed and some of the worry seeped out as she sat more comfortably in her chair. “Indeed—libraries are practically persons on their own! They have the thoughts and writings of generations.” Her smile faded, and she added. “But I am glad for House Tellier’s assistance.” I was puzzled—she didn’t sound quite as happy and joyous as she had a moment ago, then she added, “It’s the second time they have helped the library.”
I paused, my fingers hovering over my phone. “Oh?”
“Yes. They donated a statue to the library to put in the peace gardens.”
April stirred on the couch. “When was this?”
I swear it was like the skies opened up and angels wept in relief—I wasn’t the only one responsible for the questions anymore!
“In the beginning of summer—it was right as we were finishing the fundraising push,” Gail said. “The statue was destroyed in the fire, unfortunately. Thankfully, all our other statues survived.”
“What was it a statue of?” I asked.
“It was a large cube with deep cracks within it—about the size of this coffee table,” Gail said. “It was called Creativity and was supposed to represent a bursting imagination, filled so full the cube—which represented the restraints we put upon it—was cracking.”
“Did they say what it was supposed to represent?” April asked.
Based on the jagged tone to her voice, I was starting to suspect her questions were coming from her House’s hatred of House Tellier.