The librarian recognized everyone who came in. If she didn’t know their faces, she instantly knew their type. When Buster Greenheart walked in the door, she had to laugh.
“Hello!” she said. “We don’t get many A-listers in here.”
Buster shushed her. “Listen,” he said, “I’m trying to find Goll’s Grimoire.”
“Fantasy is on the second floor.”
“No, it’s not a fantasy,” he said, “it’s like a book -”
“Yes?”
“Like a book of spells!”
“I know what it is.” The librarian came from behind the desk. “We actually have a first edition.”
He followed her up past the fantasy section to a little room on the third floor. A battered hardcover sat propped up in a display case. Goll’s Grimoire by Barney W. Barney Jr..
“No,” said Buster.
“It’s not a real book,” said the librarian. “It’s a book within the book that the book is about.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m a librarian.”
“I need the real book,” Buster whispered.
“Do you want to go inside the novel?” the librarian whispered back. “Is that what you’re saying? How about we get you a nice cold drink of water?”
“Can I buy this?” asked Buster.
“You can check one out downstairs. This one’s not for sale.”
“Well, maybe there’s something special about the first edition.”
“Yes,” said the librarian, “its value.”
Buster looked at his notes.
The librarian headed back down. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yeah, but I need this first.”
“Well, like I said, second floor.”
They found a mass market paperback of Goll’s Grimoire. Buster rolled his eyes and skimmed over Barney W. Barney Jr.'s life and works. He had published two novels: Goll’s Grimoire and Paracosm. He had been missing, and presumed dead, since 1975.
“Hey." Buster turned to the librarian. “What do you think happened to this guy?”
“Well, the legend is that he was swallowed up by his creation, that he’s a prisoner in his own fictional world.”
“Really?” said Buster.
“No!” she laughed. “Let me get you that water.”