Zoe
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The Library really was a beautiful place. It was located right outside a small Scottish town. Trees grew everywhere around it and on the outside it just looked like a tiny abandoned cottage imbedded in the nature. Mortals would not want to step inside since it looked like it might fall apart at any moment, but that brittleness only made it more beautiful in my eyes.
Of course, all of that was just an outside shell, an illusion. As soon as I stepped inside, I was meet by the gigantic reception. Grey stones covered the walls, floor, and ceiling. Copper candelabras stood along the walls. Furthest in was a wooden desk and behind it, a wooden door.
I walked over to the desk and lifted the brass bell that was the only object there. I jiggled it and a soft musical clinking came from it.
In an instance the Librarian was by the desk. As far as I had understood he had always been the Librarian of the Library, and the Library was said to be at least three thousand years old. The first time I had come here I had therefore needed a lot of convincing from him that he actually was the Librarian, because to me he looked like a five-year-old boy who had to stand on his toes to see over the desk. He had then explained that he looked different to everyone that entered the Library, but when asked why that was, he had deflected the question.
"Dear Zoe! What can I do for you today?" he asked and jumped a little to get a better look at me.
"I need information on a witch hunter. Harry Jackson. He comes from a long lineage of witch hunters," I answered.
"Oh really? Harry Jackson, you said?" He quirked an eyebrow, a bright gleam had entered his eyes. "Well, I can certainly help you find information about him."
The Librarian opened a door that was to the side in the desk to let me step through while he moved over to the door behind the desk. He placed a hand where a lock should be and there was a click. Then he pushed down the handle and opened the door to a room full of shelves that stood in neat rows and filled to the brim with books.
"Here are all of our records on witch hunters," he said. "I would try aisle three if I was you."
I nodded at the Librarian as I stepped inside and made my way to aisle three. My first few interactions with the Librarian had left me immensely frustrated. I was sure he knew everything that every book in the Library said, but he always only helped so much. Honestly, him telling me what aisle to look in was awfully helpful for him. But I had learnt to accept it. According to him knowledge could not be given freely but must be sought. Which also meant that the more precise you were when asking him for help, the more help he usually gave.
Being precise could backfire also though, for he only ever answered the question that was asked. I had once been there to find out more about a group that I had been certain were mermaids. I had asked question after question but gotten nowhere. Finally I had asked if they actually were mermaids only for him to answer that they were sirens. After that I had asked the same questions again, only modified with that new knowledge and I had gotten all the information I had needed in five minutes.
The books in aisle three must had been at least over a thousand years old. They looked like one single touch would make them crumble into dust.
I carefully read a few of the titles on the leather spins and saw that they all simply bore a last name. The starting lineage of some of the oldest witch hunter families, no doubt. Though that didn't help me much since Harry Jackson's family probably had changed last name several times. But I kept on moving down the line, reading name after name until one had me stopping.
Oakes.
I couldn't help but sigh as I took the book down from the shelf. Magic... Sometimes it worked in mysterious ways.
I opened it to the end and sure enough there he was. Harry Jackson who had a son, Felix, together with an unknown woman. I checked the dates. Harry Jackson would be 53 and the son 24. Well, maybe my good looks could charm the boy so I could get close to the father. And if the boy was as bad as his father, I could kill him too. Ending that line of witch hunters.
I read a bit more of the family's history and found out that they had moved to America in the 1600s as the witch hunting in Europe slowly declined. Though they hadn't move to Salem but rather Hartford, Connecticut. There wasn't any more information about the family's movements, so my best chance for finding Harry Jackson was Hartford.
That in itself truly meant that he was very methodical about killing the witches from the coven. It would take him at least a day to travel from Hartford to where my coven was located in South Carolina. Since the killings hadn't happened all at once, that suggested he travelled back and forth. He had to be after something particular, have a reason, beyond just killing more witches, for why he targeted my coven.
I put the book back and left the room.
"Found what you needed?" the Librarian asked as I stepped into the entrance again.
"Yes," I nodded.
"Anything else I can help you with?" he asked as he always would. I wondered how often people came there. Wouldn't have surprised me if it wasn't often so he had to be desperate for company whenever someone came.
"You still haven't gotten any information on faerie curses?" I asked the question every time I was in the Library and I always got the same answer.
"There are no such thing as faerie curses," he said while shaking his head. And then continued like always. "There might be other information that can be useful for you though. You only need to ask the right question."
His tone seemed to be slightly different than usual. Harder and eager somehow. But it was likely just my imagination, I thought and shrugged it off.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I have a job to do," I answered and left.