Bully Pulpit
Over the last two weeks Pi had found St. Agatha’s library to be anything but wanting. Its shelves were made from rich cherry wood that had been painstakingly put together and polished to shine as if they were crafted from gemstones instead. The demoness took a moment to caress the back of her fingers along the rigid underside of one, marveling in its smoothness. French cut nails grazed back down the shelf’s side before skipping off to reach for a worn book. Everything from stacks set on simple...