The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1)

by Casey White

  One more. He could do one more.

  The ladder groaned as he climbed it, settling the book into a cunningly-worked sling under his arm. The slot waited above, just a dark void waiting for its new inhabitant.

  The metal rails holding the ladder to the bookshelves creaked gently when he finally came to a stop, high over the herringbone-patterned floor. He refused to look down, refused to give in to the quiver of fear churning in his gut at the heights he was poised upon.

  What would happen if I fell? his thoughts whispered, completely missing out on the ‘not going to think about it’ message. Would the Library turn the ground to something soft and catch me?

  He grabbed for the book still hanging in its harness, gripping the ladder more tightly. Or would it let me strike? His unease grew stronger with every breath he took. With the void hanging underneath him, he realized he didn’t know what would happen if he died inside the Library. Maybe he’d just wake up in his bed outside, safe and sound.

  Maybe that was the answer he was looking for.

  The shutters high overhead rattled with sudden, vehement urgency, and Owl chuckled to himself. “I know. I get it. That’s not it.”

  The wind slowed, and the rattling with it. Rising to his tiptoes, Owl reached forward, and slotted the book into its home.

  Step after careful step, he began the long journey back down the ladder. The ache in his arms continued, marking each grab at the rungs with whispers of pain.

  He was the Librarian, damn it. He shouldn’t have to suffer through the hurts of his outside days even while he was stuck in here working. Owl scowled at the bookshelves, shuffling down another few steps, and screwed up his face.

  If he stretched his mind, he could almost remember something - a figure, an unfamiliar face. Words hung right at the edge of his memory, whispering to him about only appearing how he wanted.

  Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could change this, too. He bit his lip, finally reaching the bottom of the ladder, and hesitated. His eyelids slid almost shut, soft and heavy.

  He just wanted to not hurt so damn bad. Focusing on that, he sucked in a deep breath of air, trying to soak the air around his skin with Alexandria’s strange blend of magic.

  It might just have been his imagination, but he thought the ache lacing his bones faded just a little.

  His mood lifted at the relief. There. He stretched his arms out, lacing his fingers together and pushing until his elbows popped.

  “The practice fields, then?” he said out loud, glancing up to the sky-high shelves. “Some magic training sounds like it’d be fun to do for the day, doesn’t it?” He grinned from behind his mask. “It’s been a while. Besides, after that whole mess in the lab, I was thinking I should practice some snap-shielding, really get good at-”

  A door creaked open from the shelves ahead of him. Owl stopped - and inched forward.

  The study waited beyond, with his office waiting on the balcony. It already glowed from within by the light of his monitors.

  “Oh,” Owl said, deflating. “Or...I guess I could do the paperwork.”

  The hinges screeched, long and drawn-out, as if punctuating his acquiescence. Owl groaned, making a face at the doorway, and shot the shelves another angry look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  The Library chose not to gratify his remark with a reply, but the candles in the study twinkled brighter.

  Step after step, Owl trudged back up the stairs to the second floor and his waiting office. He grimaced as soon as he made it around the corner, greeted by the sight of the files on his desk. The work never ended, did it?

  Slowly, begrudgingly, he settled into his chair, glancing around one last time. It was fine, wasn’t it? He’d searched thoroughly, and the Library had been peaceful and quiet since his return. Whatever games Alexandria had been up to, they seemed to be over for now.

  Sliding his hands under his hood, he undid the buckles holding his mask on, dropping it onto a hook set into the wall. He threw the hood back without another thought, smiling at the sensation of fresh air on his skin. “Don’t screw me, now,” he murmured, cracking an eye open to glare at the bar-studded walls.

  With no reply forthcoming, Daniel ran a hand through his hair - and pulled the top sheet off the stack. His eyes flicked down, coming to rest on the first line.

  Name.

  Age.

  Profession.

  Background.

  He hardly realized he was tapping his foot until the vibrations of it rippled up through his desk. Biting his lip, he forced himself back to stillness.

  A biologist. A mathematician. Another linguist - Christ, there were always so many linguists. Daniel grinned, lifting the offending sheet closer to his nose. What language would it be? What culture would this man’s life’s work follow? More importantly, did Daniel already know the language? It was a tiny, perverse pleasure to be a step ahead of them on their own projects.

  Taking one more look, he let a breath whistle out between his teeth. Looking at their profiles was just the first step, after all. Now, he had to look into them. All of them. Which meant background checks, and digging through the archives for anything they might have done. Any grudges they might have, any reasons they might want to use or abuse the Library.

  His favorite. Paperwork.

  When he lowered the sheet of paper, though, Daniel froze.

  A book lay on the desk in front of him, right on top of the other candidates’ biographies. He stared at it, confused. There’d been no book, before. Just moments ago, when he’d grabbed for the profile, there’d been only an empty desk and paper. So why...

  The sheet of paper in his hand drooped to the desktop, wilting. Daniel reached out, hardly seeming to notice it, and let his fingertips brush against the book’s cover. If he hadn’t gone looking for the book, then something else must have brought it here.

  He shot a look at the walls around him, already knowing what ‘something’ must have been.

  And then he turned back to the book, his brow furrowing. It wasn’t quite like the usual tomes in Alexandria. When it came to the Library’s books, they usually had a bit of polish to them. A bit of pride. This was cloth-wrapped, with the pages rough and uneven. His fingers stroked across the exposed pages, pulling the book open from the middle and letting them fall.

  Page after handwritten page flashed by, too fast for his eyes to follow.

  A journal. His pulse beat a little faster. Journals weren’t unheard of within Alexandria - not with how many researchers had operated off-the-cuff, or lived in a time before mass printing. But if a journal, then...whose?

  Letting the binding flop back to closed, he slipped his thumb under the front cover, flipping it back.

  There was no name written there, no date. Just a stamp - a black shape, bristling with feathers and-

  He hardly realized he’d pushed himself back from the table until the scream of his chair’s legs against the wood floor split the quiet.

  A bird. A crow. The journal was stamped with a crow, which meant this was-

  A woman glanced down at him, her face hazy and blurred through the fog of the centuries. “Trust Alexandria,” he heard her murmur, her voice so familiar it hurt. “She’ll look after you. She’ll-

  His hand snapped out, grabbing for the cloth-bound slab. The book flipped shut, and the woman’s voice fell away.

  Daniel stood there for a long moment, staring down at the journal with his heart hammering in his ears. His legs shook underneath him. The innocuous fabric stared back up at him, cheerful and bright.

  “Why?” he whispered, fingers tightening against the book. “Why would you give me her journal? Why now?”

  He hadn’t looked at it, back then. He could remember that much, the little flicker of chagrin and guilt that’d lingered through the years. At first, he’d been too confused. Too lost to think about something like that.

  After that, once he’d realized she was gone, it’d just...it’d hurt too much. And th
at hurt had festered, settling deep into the cracks of his soul and wiping away the pain behind a soothing, numb veneer. He’d poked into older Librarian’s journals, gleaning scraps of information as to the best way to handle a dreamer, or to de-escalate a fight between guests, but not hers. Never hers. Easier not to look, his thoughts whispered. Easier to just keep walking forward.

  And so he never had.

  He smiled down at it, his eyes tightening. “Am I supposed to be getting something out of this?” he said, speaking to the empty room. “She’s gone, Alex. It doesn’t matter anymore.” A laugh ripped from between his lips, pealing out into the study. “Can’t hardly remember her, anyway. So...”

  Daniel patted the journal’s cover lightly, tenderly. “Whatever you’re trying to do, it’s okay,” he said, and took a step back. His fingertips slipped from the cloth, floating in midair. “I’m good. Thanks. But...I’m good.”

  The lantern over his desk dimmed, but he’d already spun on his heel, hurrying for the door. Maybe he would go practice some shields. He could have the whole practice yard to himself, without the fear of guests interrupting him. It’d be good to work his magical chops again. It’d be even better to wear himself out a little.

  The door clanged shut behind him as he fled the study, latching with a morose clink.

  * * * * *

  “It’s okay,” Daniel said, his tone schooled to comforting, careful warmth. “I’m right here. We’ll find it together.”

  The old man pawing through the books hardly seemed to hear him speak, so fixated was he. The light pouring off his skin grew brighter by the second, as though driven by his very need. The wooden rack shook gently as he shoved another book back into place, grabbing one from a shelf higher.

  “Or not,” Daniel muttered, making a face. Dreamers were always a little bit annoying - they clawed their way into his day, after all, ruining his best laid plans - but normally, it didn’t take too long to find whatever they wanted and send them on their way.

  This seemed like a different matter entirely. Even making two full laps of this wing hadn’t been enough. If things didn’t turn around, he’d have to try somewhere else entirely.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the headache building within his skull. “So you said you’re-”

  “He must’ve gone somewhere,” the old man whispered, running his fingers down another spine. “Jimmy wouldn’t just disappear. Somethin’ happened. I knows it. Always wondered, you know?”

  “I know,” Daniel said, reaching up to pat the man’s shoulder. The dreamers were corporeal enough - they had no trouble grabbing at Alexandria’s book, after all, and even if they were still rather...translucent...they’d always acted pleased enough at physical contact.

  And then he turned to the shelves around them, his mask bouncing lightly from its place clipped to his arm. “We’ll just...try somewhere else, shall we?” he said with deliberate cheer.

  “What’s that?” the old man said, glancing his way. His eyes glowed from within his pale, spectral face, little more than orbs of light.

  Daniel smiled. The sight had long since stopped scaring him. “We’ll keep looking,” he said, more gently. “If you’re not finding it here, then let’s look...over there?”

  The dreamer grumbled, but didn’t argue when Daniel tugged him away from the shelf. They never argued, in fact - and try as he might, Daniel could never find any sort of rhyme or reason to their search. Of course, the fact that the Library appeared to be shelved entirely at random didn’t help matters any.

  In the end, all he could do was guide the dreamer along, be there to comfort them as they wandered. That was enough.

  It didn’t stop him from casting a pleading glance up to the gothic arches rising over them. A little help? he whispered silently. Not that I mind, but...this is starting to carry on. Are you waiting for a sign, or am I just totally missing something?

  The Library seemed to sigh, all of the candles flickering in unison.

  Daniel winced. Sorry. Just being honest.

  Somewhere ahead of them, leather scraped against wood. Daniel’s head snapped up - and he watched a book quiver more and more violently, finally tipping over to fall to the stone floor.

  “Hey,” he said, tapping at the dreamer’s shoulder. “How about that, hmm? Let’s go look.”

  He’d never had much reason to be around children, and he’d certainly never had any of his own thus far in his mortal life - but as he towed the dreamer onward, still mumbling complaints and straining to look down other aisles, he couldn’t help chuckling at the notion that dreamer-herding had to come close.

  “Oh,” the old man rasped, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, that’s...”

  “Look familiar?” Daniel said with a smile, stepping clear and letting the dreamer have at it.

  The man lunged for the book on the floor, ripping it open.

  Daniel winced, throwing an arm up over his eyes as the aisle flared into brilliant, blinding light.

  There, he murmured, cracking an eye and peering out at the rest of the wing. That did it. Thanks. That could have taken all day. The dreamer was already all but gone, blurred out in a glowing pillar.

  One job done. He nodded, letting his eyes linger on the dreamer’s form for another moment before backing a step away. Time to get back to the rest of it.

  The light faded out into the Library’s usual mix of murk and glow as he stepped away, already moving on to the next task that needed doing. He needed to keep working on some additional defensive measures for Alexandria. Couldn’t let Lenny happen again. Needed to start looking into...he sighed. Some sort of AI system, perhaps. He could simulate her personality in the outside world, stock her with as much data as he could carry. If he couldn’t bring Alexandria with him to the outside, that’d be the next best thing.

  His skull pounded. Daniel pressed a hand to his face, trying to rub away the tired, but it wasn’t helping. He didn’t have long, he knew. He’d been back to reality a handful of times already since his last duty shift. More than a handful.

  Before long, Alexandria was going to insist he bring another batch in. His lips settled into a frown, crows’ feet etching into his forehead. As much as the thought of starting another shift did not appeal to him, he couldn’t let it go for as long as it had last time. No matter his personal feelings on the matter, he’d have to-

  “Holy shit.”

  “What’d I tell you?”

  Too late, Daniel heard the whispers. His foot was already in midair for the next step, the shelf passing him by. He was already half-exposed, poised at the very cusp of the hallway.

  There was no way for him to stop as he crossed into the open air beyond - and saw the figures creeping up the hall toward him.

  - Chapter Nineteen -

  In that single, horrifying moment, Daniel could only teeter in place, gaping down the hallway.

  A pair of figures stood equally frozen in the adrenaline-fueled nightmare of his mind, eyes round and faces beaming with nervous smiles. One was a complete mystery to him.

  The other was Leon.

  Well, shit.

  And then the moment unfroze, and Daniel lurched to the ground. In the hallway. The very, very open hallway. They jumped, their heads snapping up.

  He moved on instinct alone - and truly, it was remarkable just how quickly his hand closed about the mask hanging from his upper arm. The straps binding it to the jacket were meant to snap if necessary. It was necessary.

  Leon’s eyes were just starting to focus when he slammed the mask home, jamming it onto his nose so fast the tip gave a horrible crunch.

  The two visitors stared at him.

  He stared back, torn between charging, running away, or locking all of them in a giant, escape-proof box.

  He settled for staring - until finally, he remembered himself, and started scrabbling for the hood to his jacket.

  “S-Shit,” he heard Leon stammer. “This guy again.”

  “Again?” his fr
iend said. “You’re saying-”

  “He showed up last time,” Leon said, and through the cracks between his fingers, Owl saw the man start to back away. “J-Just, uh. We can-”

  “No running in the Library,” Owl said, the words slipping out of him on some perverse habit. “I, uh. I mean, let’s...don’t run.”

  Leon grabbed his friend’s shoulder, though, still backpedaling. “Guy came after me, James. So hurry up and-”

  Damn it, he wasn’t sure if it was the clumsy hood or his own clumsy fingers, but he just couldn’t get the thing up while keeping the mask in place. The straps for his mask were all tangled up in it, utterly preventing the fabric from moving. Owl let it fall for a moment, throwing his hand palm-first toward the pair.

  Every fiber of his being screamed to throw a wall up behind them, to box the pair in like the intruding rats they were.

  “Wait,” Owl said instead. “I won’t chase you. I’d like to...I want to talk.” Actually vocalizing the words hurt. Somewhere outside the windows lining the Library, he heard the soft tinkling of wind-chimes blowing on the breeze, and scowled. Don’t you dare laugh at me. This is your fault.

  But Leon and James froze. The friend kept glancing between Owl and Leon, his face bone-white. Leon hadn’t taken his eyes off Owl, his brows furrowed heavily.

  “Okay,” Leon said at last, turning to square off. “I guess. I mean...it’s you, isn’t it? Look, man, I answered your questions last time. I don’t have anything else to-”

  “I know,” Owl said hurriedly. “I know, I know. I’m not going to attack you or anything. Just want to talk. That’s all.”

  His fingers grabbed for the leather edge of the hood, trying to pull it up, but it kept catching on...everything, it seemed. The collar of his jacket. The high-necked shirt he wore underneath the jacket. And more than anything, the shaggy mess of black hair hanging down over the shirt.

  The silence dragged on as he grappled with the hood, fighting to pull it free without letting his mask fall.

  Softly at first, the sound of their shoes scraping against the elegant floors of the Library rose in his ears. “Uh,” Leon said.