The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1)

by Casey White

  Involuntarily, his eyes flicked up to the clock over the mantle - the clock that was no longer pouring itself out. His pulse jumped. Alexandria wasn't speeding up time anymore. Then-

  So that's your game, he whispered silently, exhaling. The fire burning in the heart simmered higher, casting a rosy glow over the room. Oh, she was cheerful, all right. Everything had gone according to her plan.

  Owl couldn't quite bring himself to feel the same way. Not when her antics had left a study destroyed, two guests injured, and his own nerves frayed right to the very edge.

  The floorboards under him groaned. He jumped - and watched as a flicker of light reflected from the candlestick that had been dropped alongside Dylan's chair. Somehow, he'd managed to carry it in with him. Owl sighed. I...I get it, I guess. You want them gone too. I'd given you a damn method, though. You didn't have to rush things.

  Knowing what her plans were didn't make the frustration any less pointed. But he had two guests in front of him, both hurting and in need of help, and they didn't care if he was frustrated. Both were staring at the fire, too glassy-eyed to have taken notice of the fact he'd stopped dead in his tracks. Making an irritated noise, Owl stepped closer, crouching down between them.

  There was no way to be sure if treating them inside the Library would work, but he didn't have much choice, either. So he'd do what he could. Popping the snaps loose on the case, he opened it wide. A pile of neatly folded white cloths stared back at him, alongside a jar of green paste. He stared at it for a long moment, his confusion rising. This....This didn't look like a normal first aid kit. Uh.

  "W-What's....What's that?" Dylan said. "What is that stuff?"

  "It'll help," Owl said, pulling a cloth free from the top of the stack. Even if he was confused as hell, the other two did not need to know that. "Just sit back. I'll get you feeling better."

  Alan nodded, his teeth still clenched. Owl eyed him, then the jar. Most of his sweatshirt was gone, exposing angry, shiny red flesh beneath. That...that looked bad. He'd never studied the medical arts in depth - there'd been no reason for him to - but he knew a burn when he saw one. And he knew how bad burns could get.

  The green paste in the jar gleamed up at him, smooth and inviting. Owl shook his head, unscrewing the top. Well...it was cloth and paste. There weren't too many options for him to choose between.

  Scooping a bit of the paste out with a cloth, he spread it across Alan's now-exposed back. The man shivered, letting out a hiss of air, but Owl kept spreading, kept covering the exposed skin with fabric. Over and over, he dipped into the jar, taking solace in the repetition of it all.

  And when he slowed, pausing for long enough to peel back the very edge of one of the first bandages he'd laid, the redness underneath had gone down. A lot. Owl smiled, sweet relief filling his veins. Okay, fair enough, Alexandria. Even still, next time, could you send some instructions with it?

  "We're in t-trouble, aren't we?"

  Owl looked up. Dylan stared at the ground in front of his chair, his hands balled up against his knees. The scholar didn't budge. His face shone pure white in the fire-lit room. "Alan and I, that is. Us."

  Owl stared at Dylan, the words lodged in his throat. They wouldn't appear when he reached for them, as though hiding from him. Dylan and Alan had...they'd messed everything up. Absolutely everything. They'd been irresponsible and reckless.

  But at the same time, they were just scholars, curious about everything the world had to offer. That was why they were here. Alexandria wanted the best and brightest - and it was his job to stay a step ahead of them.

  This time, he'd failed.

  "You two are fortunate," Owl said instead, picking up another cloth. "Really, really fortunate. Things could have gone...so much worse." Another dip. The green paste coated the pure white fabric, vanishing as he turned it against Alan's arms. "You could have gotten something worse than burns. You could have died."

  "I-I know," Dylan said, his voice small. "I know. I do."

  Damn it. If the man didn't sound so mortified, so humiliated by their catastrophe, Owl would have had a much easier time holding a grudge against them. He let out a huff of air, shooting an irritated glance Dylan's way. "The Library is a special place," he said, more gently. "But it's dangerous. I told you that when you arrived, didn't I?"

  "Yeah," Dylan mumbled. "You did."

  "How..." Alan began, then winced.

  Owl paused, his hands pulling free of Alan's skin. "What's that?"

  "...How bad did it get?" Alan mumbled, at last.

  Ah. That. Owl inclined his head, his lips pressing together tightly. "That's...it got bad," he said. "A wing was destroyed. The shelves are ruined. The whole section is unusable. I'm...not sure if I'll have to repair it, or if Alexandria will, or if it has to be retired." He smiled faintly from behind his mask. "It all remains to be seen."

  "Oh," Alan rasped hoarsely. "I'm...I'm sorry, Librarian."

  "I'm just glad that you both emerged from the mess whole," Owl said. As much as his thoughts screamed to rip into these two, to teach them the error of their ways, he knew it wouldn't help. They'd already learned their lesson, he knew. And both of the men were smart. Very smart. They'd know what came next.

  Sure enough, they both fell quiet, then, Dylan fidgeting in his seat while Alan stared hollowly at the fire. One bandage at a time, Owl coated the worst of Alan's injuries. The minutes slipped past, with the herbal scent of the paste steadily filling Owl's nostrils.

  Finally, when Owl had turned to wrapping Alan's fingers with tiny strips of white fabric, he heard the too-sharp man clear his throat. Again, he looked up.

  "So..." Alan began, then swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed. "What now, Librarian?"

  Alongside him, Dylan drooped.

  Owl took his time, continuing to wrap the bandage he held. His gloved fingers looped the fabric around itself, then pushed the end through the tiny hole he'd made. A gentle pull, and the whole thing wrapped snug.

  Only then did he sit back on his heels, resting his hands in his lap.

  "I know that neither of you meant harm," Owl said quietly. "But Alexandria has been hurt, today. The Library was damaged. My duties are to it as much as you, and I can't ignore that this has taken place."

  Alan nodded, once, then dropped his chin to his chest.

  "...Shit," Dylan mumbled.

  "I-I still have work that needs doing," Alan said. The man's skin was starting to flush, a glow completely aside from his injuries. "I'm not finished. I still have to-"

  "Tomorrow morning, you may collect your research and put yourself in order," Owl said. He wanted to throw them out right then and there, but as angry as he was, the two were just too damn pathetic. "That will be your opportunity to organize whatever notes will translate to the outside with you. But then, tomorrow evening?" He looked from Alan to Dylan, trusting in the tone of his voice to convey the seriousness that his eyes couldn't. "You will depart the Library, so that I can begin to repair the damage."

  And they'd stay well away from magic. One night unsupervised was still a risk - but better than weeks more left running amok in Alexandria. For a moment, a flicker of begrudging appreciation for Alex's antics shot through him.

  He didn't think it was possible, but Alan and Dylan somehow managed to droop even lower. "Ah," Alan said.

  "Shit," Dylan repeated, shaking his head. He buried his face in his hands, and went quiet.

  Owl waited another moment, watching the two of them, but neither voiced another complaint. More than likely, both knew they were in no position to. Not when they'd wreaked the sort of destruction they had - with or without Alexandria's help.

  "Do you hurt anywhere else?" Owl said at last, turning his eyes back to Alan.

  The scholar shook his head, still fixated on the carpet. "No...no. I'm...I feel fine," he mumbled. "Thank you, Librarian. I'm sorry. Again. For everything. I-"

  "You should get some rest," Owl said, gently but firmly. He nodded toward the two doors f
arther down the hall, alongside his own quarters. "Rest up. Your hurts will feel better in the morning, and your heads will be clearer as you collect yourselves."

  Alan's lips tightened. "B-But I only have tomorrow. I should at least take the time remaining to-"

  Owl folded his arms. It shouldn't have worked. He was still on his knees alongside the two, nowhere near as intimidating as he would have been ordinarily. But it did work, either through the sheer disapproval radiating off his skin or the ironclad set of his shoulders. Alan stopped, closing his mouth hurriedly.

  "Y-Yeah," Dylan said. "I'm pretty tired, I guess. That...yeah, that sounds like...a good plan. Yeah."

  "Stop babbling," Alan mumbled. But when Dylan grabbed his arms gently, he didn't fight. Wincing with every step, he crept toward his room.

  Owl waited, watching them go. Only when their doors shut behind them did he let out the sigh he'd been holding. The tension bled from his limbs like air leaving a balloon.

  He twisted one finger, yanking it to the side. The latches fixed to both doors slammed home. This was Alexandria. There'd be no fire, no emergency facing either of them. He very, very much wanted to be sure Alan wouldn't go running back out into the Library to finish a few more scraps of his research.

  And then, with fresh silence hanging over the sitting room, he turned.

  "You're still there, aren't you?"

  At first, nothing happened - and he started to worry that he was mistaken, that he'd misheard. Then, the slow thud of footsteps rose.

  Leon appeared around the edge of the doorframe, glancing back and forth nervously. His cloak swirled about his legs, the hood pulled high enough that only a scrap of his golden-brown hair shone around the edges. "Uh."

  "They're gone," Owl said, kicking the first aid kit aside and dropping into one of the sitting room chairs. "For now. They're in their rooms, anyway, so it's safe."

  "Oh. Sweet." Leon looked to their doors again, though, before nervously creeping into the room. "I just- I didn't want them to-"

  "They're not going to see you."

  "...Sweet." Leon lowered himself into the chair beside Owl, leaning forward to warm his still-shaking hands. Dried blood coated the side of his face. "T-This is pretty slick. You've got chairs, you've got fire. That's, uh-"

  "Are you okay?" Owl said quietly.

  Leon stopped. His hands twisted in, turning back and forth as he inspected them. "I...yeah."

  "You're sure?"

  Leon chuckled, reaching up to pat at the wound hidden beneath his hair. "Well, the bleeding seems to have stopped. I didn't get crushed by one of those bookshelves. And I'm not burned. So, yeah." He snapped his fingers, grinning at the tiny ball of embers that sprang to life in his palm. "I think I'm good."

  Owl leaned his head back against the chair, sagging. The two scholars were set to leave. He'd healed them as best he could. All of his problems were starting to flit away, and with their absence, the exhaustion pressed in harder than ever. "Cool," he mumbled. "Sorry. About all of that. I didn't..." His shoulders sank lower. "I didn't want you to get mixed up in anything like that."

  Again, Leon chuckled. The sound had changed, growing more wistful and less nervous. "James is never gonna believe this, you know."

  "Oh, I know it," Owl said. "Shit. Bring him around next time and I'll show him." It'd be kind of like letting Alexandria show off, wouldn't it? Except instead of showing him her good side, she’d be showing him exactly how nasty she could get.

  "He'd probably shit himself if he saw it. He'd have nightmares."

  "Yeah," Owl said. "Probably."

  "I'll drag him along anyway," Leon said. "He'd have fun. And he's getting murdered in physics."

  "I think I can manage that."

  "Yeah. I bet you can," Leon said, grinning. "Oh, I should..." He hesitated, glancing to Owl. "There's another girl in my class. A study partner. Uh. She saw the journals, too, she just didn't come with. And she's got some questions with electromagnetics. Um. I was wondering...do you think Alexandria might let her slip in, too?"

  Owl's headache surged back to life in full. He stiffened, the slackness fleeing his limbs. "Leon...I know she's a friend, but...I don't think..." He swallowed. "I don't want more people here than necessary. It's not safe. She might be a friend, but-"

  "I get it," Leon said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to- I shouldn't have assumed. Sorry."

  "You didn't- I'm not upset. I just-"

  "No, you're right," Leon said. "It was stupid. I just-"

  He gasped, and Owl flinched. His eyes snapped back to Leon.

  Out from under the edge of his hood, he watched a dull glow take root in Leon's skin, faint at first but growing stronger. "Oh," he whispered.

  "Guess that's it," Leon said, shooting Owl a grin. "Your girl is sending me home."

  "I'm sorry," Owl said, a moment of horror flashing through his mind. "Your exam. I didn't- We never-"

  "You can make it up to me next time," Leon said. "Me and James both. Deal?"

  Owl smiled, leaning forward. "Yeah. Deal. Thank you. For staying."

  "No big," Leon said, his grin widening. "You looked so damn pathetic, I couldn't just leave. What kind of friend would I be to run off and-"

  The glimmers of light flared like a sun underneath Leon's skin. Owl threw a hand up, shying back.

  When it faded, the other seat was empty.

  Owl lingered a moment longer, letting the last notes of Leon's voice fade from the air.

  And then, slowly, he pushed himself upright and trudged toward his quarters.

  * * * * *

  "We are so, so sorry."

  Owl stood in the entryway, eyeing the two scholars. They stood, the doorway arrayed behind them with their bags in a heap. The worst of Alan's wounds had faded in the night, much to Owl's relief. It was Dylan who spoke, his hands clutching at the hem of his shirt. The man looked like nothing so much as a schoolchild caught misbehaving.

  He smiled thinly. "It's all right," he said. "You're both safe. That's what matters, in the end."

  "But we-"

  "I apologize for the mess we've made, Librarian," Alan said quietly. The man had hardly said a word since Owl guided them into the entrance a few short minutes prior. They hadn't argued, at least, which made the whole thing substantially less painful than it could have been. He still wore a few of the white bandages Owl had wrapped about him the night before, poking out from underneath his shirt. "It was...never my intention. I just wanted to learn."

  "I understand," Owl said. "Really." How many times was he going to have to explain this?

  He knew, though. The two had blown their chance. It didn't matter what punishment he tried to exact on them. Their own minds would serve up something far worse, if they remembered enough to know what wrongs they'd done.

  "I can't believe we did that," Dylan mumbled, deflating further.

  Owl sighed, shifting from foot to foot. When he didn't reply further, the two seemed to understand that they weren't going to get another response. Slowly, reluctantly, they turned toward the door.

  The light of the outside grew as it opened, swallowing them whole. Owl rocked back on his heels, squinting his eyes closed against the brilliance.

  Freedom. He'd gotten rid of them, without them realizing the truth of the magic they'd played with. It was a small victory, but he'd take what he could get.

  The light faded, and Owl slumped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. They were gone. The Library was empty again.

  Maybe now, he could leave. Maybe he could actually taste freedom again.

  He turned on his heel, striding back toward his domain.

  With the ache of the magic he'd used still rumbling through his limbs, his skull, he couldn't help wondering if that freedom was worth the struggle.

  - Chapter Twenty-Six -

  The smell of coffee wafted through the kitchen.

  Daniel leaned back against his counter, his eyes fixed to the steadily-bubbling carafe of brown. Light streamed through
the windows, warm and bright. He'd slept too late. Or, rather, he'd woken up early enough - he'd simply stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours.

  It was a waste of time, his senses screamed. But his thoughts churned as turbulently as the coffee dripping into the pot, and somehow, laying there had felt like the right thing to do.

  The coffeepot was still screaming its first strident cheep when he swiped the carafe free, pouring a cup. It clanged back onto the hot plate. He turned for the back door, hardly seeing the rooms around him.

  A shiver rippled across his skin as he stepped outside, carried on a thin whisper of a breeze. Summer would be over soon, he knew. Another year, down. And him still without any sense of direction. The sourness of his mood deepened.

  His house bordered a forest, one owned by a party disinterested enough that it'd been left untouched. He drifted down the narrow trail he'd long since beat into the dirt, leaving the sunlight behind.

  A picnic table waited, just inside the treeline. Daniel lowered himself onto one of its benches. A drop of coffee sloshed onto the wooden surface.

  He'd already looked away, though, lifting his chin until a scrap of blue sky shone from between the green-brown leaves. His hands wrapped about the mug, though, savoring the warmth it offered.

  Alexandria had let him go early. He smiled faintly. That was unusual - although, it wasn't every day that two of their guests destroyed an entire section of the Library. These were unusual times. Logically, he knew he should be ecstatic. He'd gotten out months ahead of when he’d planned on. And yet...he couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone, to call any of his friends or set up evening plans. They seemed a million miles away, more distant than ever.

  With a groan, Daniel drooped, leaning forward to rest his elbow against the table. His other hand wandered to his chest, his fingers curling in meaningfully.

  Blue light flared for a moment, glowing in the space about his hand. A moment later, it faded - and a golden pendant dropped into his hand. The chain extended upward, hanging about his neck.