Grimoire Mishaps at the Library of Baba Yaga

Rule #438 of the Library of Baba Yaga: Damaged books will be fined

Hecate, grant me peace. Aradia clasped her pendant, running her thumb over the serpent’s ridges, as she gingerly opened the volume in front of her, a copy of “A Lady’s Guide to Cyanide.” She quickly flipped through the bloodied pages, assessing the damage. It seemed the lady had decided to forgo cyanide. This amount of blood could only spill from a sizable wound. Really, it was none of her business what people did with the books, but she drew the line at returning them in less than sparkling condition.

“Otto,” she called, standing from her meticulously organized desk – mountain ash, like everything in the library, to keep out malicious spells. The domowik peeked over a shelf, his gold eyes flashing beneath his pointy hat and bushy brows. “Draft a letter to Lady Thistlebriar, please.”

He moved silently, as all domowik did, and Aradia returned to her work as well, poring over a law book as her categorizing spell worked meticulously to label the newly acquired materials.

Rule #1002 of the Library of Baba Yaga: Use of library materials to summon demons is strictly prohibited.

Hours later, a rather sheepish young man in a suit and top hat came through the library doors, sneaking glances at the wooden snakes adorning the doorframe. Aradia recognized him, as she did all her patrons. Untidy. His tie was still crooked and his blond hair untamed, but he’d fixed his jacket collar, and Aradia counted that as progress.

“M-miss–” he stuttered.

Her stomach dropped. He wasn’t sheepish at all. Guilty.

Her hand clasped her pendant as she recited the laws of Hecate to herself. She shut the law book in a manner she hoped wasn’t too harsh. “There is a twenty gold fee for releasing class A demons.”

“I-I understand.” The young man’s eyes bulged as he focused on the spot over her shoulder, his lips forming a thin line. Aradia kept her eyes forward. Always the same tricks. It might’ve worked when Viviano had first been summoned and all that Aradia had ever exorcised was a villainous crow, but these days, there was nothing Viviano could do to catch her off guard. She could tell from his pouts that it frustrated him.

The young man retrieved the book from his satchel. It was a tome fit for a demon prince, embossed with vines, and fastened with a gold lock for good measure. Viviano’s seal, a hand holding a golden apple, echoed with an ancient power that always left Aradia’s head spinning. Her fingers smoothed over the cover, brushing off any lingering dust, though the tome never dirtied.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Aradia asked as she placed the book on the cart next to her, the words robotic on her tongue. The young man shook his head and glanced back over her shoulder.

“Thank you, my lord!” was all he managed before turning around and running out of the building.

“Don’t forget to tell all your friends about me,” a smooth voice called after the young man through a mouthful of something crackly.

Aradia leaned back in her chair. “What did he want?”

“Career help,” the smooth voice said. “Your customer service is as atrocious as ever.”

Aradia found Viviano sprawled over his favorite armchair, the upholstery still shimmering with the remnants of whatever spell he’d used to move it behind her desk. In his hand, he held a pomegranate, its garnet seeds glistening enticingly. Teeth marks crowned the fruit where Viviano had bitten into it like an animal. He did not belong here, what with his fashionable wardrobe: a black shirt with billowing sleeves, a red vest, and a pair of well-fitted pants. A gold apple pendant hung from his neck, one which he’d offered to her more than a few times. She was quite certain it was cursed.

Quite at odds, indeed, with her cozy library, furnished with rickety shelves, vintage study tables, and her mother’s old grandfather clock.

“Your Highness,” she greeted. She always attempted to be polite, at least in the beginning. She was, after all, a professional. “I know you cannot control when someone summons you, but could you perhaps refrain from advertising yourself?”

For a moment, Viviano only stared at her, puzzlement in his black eyes, his eyebrow arching. Then, he broke into a sly grin, showing off his pointed canines, now reddened with pomegranate juice.

“Ari,” Viviano said, rising from his seat and closing the small distance between them. He leaned against her work desk, the ash doing little to stop him despite his demonic blood. “Aren’t you the one who keeps giving them my book?”

She bristled at this, recognizing the coquettishness in his voice.

Rule #50 of the Library of Baba Yaga: Staff members are not to consort with demonic entities.

“I cannot interfere with the distribution of materials.” She shooed him away. “Nor can I dictate how they use it.”

Viviano scoffed, looking away as he bit into the pomegranate again. He pointedly walked away, browsing the shelves in a manner far too childish for a demon prince.

“Your Highness.” She was quite ready to chastise him properly when a paper bag caught the corner of her eye, sitting next to the armchair, abandoned. She recognized that logo. Midtown Grocery. Viviano followed her gaze and smiled again.

“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten since this morning,” he said. “And if I know you, then your pantry is empty, too.”

“Well, I . . .”

“Well?” Viviano asked. “It’s past closing, isn’t it? Even your little goblin has gone home to rest. And there’s still three hours until you can send me on my way back to hell.”

She knew from experience that Viviano could cook as well as any chef. Had the discerning palate of any royal brat, too. Said food tasted better in hell.

Her stomach growled, and she heaved a sigh, defeated. “Very well.”

Rule #1010: Do not dine with demonic entities.

Her apartment, which was on the third floor of the library, and which she had once shared with her parents before they’d been arrested for killing ten people in a ritual sacrifice. Might’ve gotten away with it too, if their daughter hadn’t seen the prize money for their capture. Libraries were expensive to upkeep and that mountain ash furniture wasn’t going to pay for itself. She thought they might understand, but truth be told, she hadn’t spoken to them in over a decade now.

The library creaked as they passed the threshold into the moonlit kitchen, rocking back and forth. What had stirred it awake this time?

Aradia pushed aside the floral curtains, which smelled of burning sage and pine needles, and opened the window.

“Oh dear,” she murmured. Thank Hecate that she’d remembered to renew the security spell on the books. It would’ve been a mess by now.

The giant chicken leg supporting the house had taken off at a frenzied gallop.

“Probably senses the bureau officers,” Viviano said from his place at the stove. Her home was as meticulously organized and tidy as the rest of the building, so he’d had no trouble in finding pots and pans and utensils, all of which had been enchanted to protect against curses.

“Bureau officers?” Aradia asked. “Here?”

Viviano glanced at her, black eyes glinting. That look always pulled her stomach into knots. He pushed his dark hair out of his eyes as he threw breaded chicken into a frying pan.

“Don’t worry. This place would run off the edge of the world before it’d let them catch up to it.”

Aradia’s fingers found her pendant, slid over the labyrinthine serpent, and breathed. Hecate –

“You know, it’s rude to wear another entity’s pendant in front of your demon friend.” Viviano had his back to her, chopping tomatoes on a wooden cutting board. Mountain ash, of course. Why he always got so worked up over her devotion to Hecate was beyond her. “Especially one who’s making you dinner.

“It’s for protection.” She walked to him, eyeing the knife in his hand. His technique was immaculate as always. She appreciated his attention to detail in this regard, at least.

“You could use my pendant,” he said. “I’m great at protecting humans.”

“No, thank you.” She took a seat on a stool, leaning her elbows on the countertop. She’d have helped, but Viviano was a tyrant in the kitchen.

“What? Are you scared of me, after all?”

She observed him for a moment, parsing through his good-humored tone.

“Of course not,” she replied, earning a glance from the hitherto disinterested Viviano. “Fear is too easy to manipulate for demons. I am merely cautious.”

Viviano turned his gaze back down, a small smile on his face. “So it is. Right again.”

Rule #19 of the Library of Baba Yaga: Never trust a demon.

After dinner, they had an hour to spare before Aradia could open a portal to send Viviano back home. They settled in the living room, Aradia on one side of the large, practical sofa, and Viviano on the other. This time, he did not comment on her dull choice of furnishing, though she could tell the bland beige tormented him.

“Do not fall asleep,” Aradia warned, peeking her head over the law book in her hands.

“Then talk to me,” Viviano yawned, leaning his head against the armrest. “What are you reading?”

“Law.”

Viviano hummed. “For the entrance exams?”

Her stomach flipped, uneasy again. He remembered things too well. “Yes.”

“We could make a deal.” Not this again. “You wouldn’t have to study another word. I could get you into the best school in the world.”

If he wanted to get her soul, he’d have to try harder. “I’ll have to decline. If I cannot get in by my own merit, then I’d rather not go at all.”

“You are ever so honorable, Ari darling.” Viviano stretched out on the couch, and then rolled onto his side. “I’m starting to think there is nothing you truly desire.”

“I do.”

“No.” Viviano’s voice was barely above a whisper and uncharacteristically somber. “You don’t. When you truly desire something, you’d do anything to get it. Sacrifice anything.”

Aradia considered his words carefully and then shook her head. Well, she supposed he was a demon of desire first and foremost. He would know about such feelings than she. Still. “That seems foolish.”

Viviano heaved a painstaking sigh. “You would say that. You have no care for matters of the heart.”

Aradia shut the law book in her hands. “I believe an hour has passed.”

She was about to rise from the sofa when Viviano took her arm. “Wait.”

With this, her suspicions were confirmed. Something was wrong with the demon prince who had made a pastime out of inconveniencing her.

“Is something the matter?” she asked him, finally, though she knew showing empathy to a demon could only end badly.

“Could we leave the portal-summoning until tomorrow, maybe?”

What a strange request. “Witch law dictates that all summoned demonic entities be sent back to hell the following witching hour.”

“I know, I know, I just . . .”

Something more. “Viviano, is there a reason you’ve been asking people to summon you more often?”

He flinched, as much as a demon prince could flinch. “I just . . . need a little break, that’s all.”

Well, she supposed she could understand that. The demonic royal family came with its own set of miseries.

Come now, Aradia, you cannot sleep with a demon in your home! Be sensible.

But as sensible as she was, she could see the reluctance in Viviano’s face, and her heart gave a little squeeze. Really, what could one night hurt? She’d already let him into her home and eaten his food.

She cleared her throat, standing from the sofa again. “Then, I suppose there’s no reason to stay up.”

“Ari?”

She pulled a comforter and two pillows from the storage closer and tossed it at him. “You can take the spare bedroom. I will bathe first. You may go after me. Over the course of the night, you may not enter my room without my permission. If you do so, I reserve the right to restrain you in any way I see fit. Is that understood?”

“Yes?”

That was that, then. She would be roommates with a demon. She’d pray to Hecate later that the bureau doesn’t find out. They’d been cracking down on all sorts of magic lately. And those bureau officers had been so close too . . .

“Ari?” Viviano called her name softly. So softly that she wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear. “Thank you.”

Rule #92 of the Library of Baba Yaga: Do not let a demon thank you.