Simon stepped inside the library. The door shooshed shut behind with a smothered thump. Simon suddenly had a mental image to go with the noise: a shovel plunging into the ground, but not a real shovel. No, a shovel from a Tales From The Darkside episode that you snuck downstairs to watch after midnight. A blue-lit shovel turning over loam filled with worms, a cartoony sound effect to match; the thing beneath the blade pushing through the rotting coffin lid, up through the soft ground towards the digger’s feet…

Simon tried to make the picture go away, but the skeletal hand kept pushing. He looked around and tried to focus on the real.

The library was cold, like a meat locker, dim like a catacomb. The air had the sharpness of refrigeration and the musty smell of old books—dust, mold, binding glue, leather. It was a mix that Simon always found intoxicating. Shelves stretched away to his left and a high counter ran away to his right. He had a suspicion the library wasn’t this big on the outside.