Blood Rite by Stephen Penner

Author:Stephen Penner [Penner, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Ring of Fire Publishing
Published: 2011-12-27T04:30:00+00:00

Well, I'll be damned. A bemused smile lit Maggie's face. But who the hell is S. MacKenzie?

"Miss?" The librarian's voice pulled Maggie back to her surroundings. "Is everything in order?"

"Er, yes," Maggie replied. "Yes. Quite in order."

"Well, then," the woman opened a drawer in the counter and extracted a key. "Here is the key to the manuscript collection. It's on the fourth floor, up the lift then around the bend and at the end of the hallway."

"Thank you." Maggie took the key gladly. Then she glanced down at the fax from the mysterious Prof. MacKenzie. "Can I get a copy of this? You know, just for my records?"

"I don't see why not," replied the librarian, and within a few moments, Maggie was strolling down the hall, key in one hand and eyes perusing the surprising letter. She had forgotten entirely about breakfast.

At the far end of the hallway stood a rather nicely painted burgundy door with a rather nice black and white sign that read, simply enough, 'Manuscripts.' Maggie inserted the key into the doorknob and popped the door open.

Inside was a pristine and very comfortable modern chamber, some twenty feet wide and twice as deep. An institutionally patterned beige carpet blanketed the floor beneath a score of extremely solid looking black metal bookcases, all spaced well apart from one another. Several tables and chairs, all in a lightly stained pine, spread out ahead of her in front of the windows and across a sort of lobby formed between the nearest end of the bookshelves and the door. To her right was a row of half a dozen microfiche machines and an equal number of computer terminals. To her left were study carrels next to a wall of windows, all sporting a microfiber shade which filtered the potentially damaging sunlight without blocking it out altogether. Additional lighting was provided by attractively modern chandeliers, gold and wood half-spheres spaced evenly across the whitewashed ceiling. A central air system hummed quietly overhead and kept the room at a comfortable coolness. Almost too cool for Maggie who had worn another light summer dress and sandals for another sunny late July day. But her joy at her unexpected access to the manuscript collection more than warmed her inquisitive little self. She swung off her backpack, heavy with the Dark Book, and set it on the table nearest the door, then she pulled from a zippered pocket the slip of paper from yesterday—the one with the manuscript's call number—and dove between the shelves.

Her first order of business was not locating the manuscript. Rather it was to ascertain whether anyone else was in the room. She followed the hum of the central air down the length of the middle of three long corridors formed by the rows of bookcases. Then she doubled back around, circling and crisscrossing where possible to confirm she was alone. Having worked her way back to her backpack, she was satisfied she had the room to herself. The coast was clear.

Now to fetch the manuscript.

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