City of Magic (Happily Ever Afterlife Book 1)

by Patricia Thomas

  Eliza’s expression scrunched up as she considered the question. Eventually, she just shrugged, like it wasn’t something she had ever given much thought to, an idea that seemed completely absurd to me. "In theory. And there are librarians who train to help people find their origin stories, but there isn’t that much call for them. Most people in the After never venture out past the region they start off in and probably don’t even realize Sanctum is here."

  "But it’s possible?" To my surprise, it was Marc who had joined the conversation, taking a quick hop forward so he was out in front of Eliza and me, walking backward to watch Eliza as he moved down the aisle. "Could I look up the book I came from and… I’m not sure. But could it happen?"

  Devon had squeezed in beside me as well, noticeably hanging on to every word of our conversation. He had to be just as curious about this possibility as I was. With just one book we could learn everything that had been written about our lives, learn things about ourselves we’d never considered.

  Eliza turned a little, taking in each of us in turn. Whatever she saw must have been enough to really grab her attention. "It’s not as simple as that. I mean, we have a database with titles, authors and genres, but can any of you tell me the name of the book you came from?"

  Huh.

  Well, that was something I hadn’t considered. And no matter how hard I searched my memories, nothing jumped out at me. Neither Devon nor Marc had an answer either.

  "Don’t feel too bad. No one ever does. Figuring out an origin story is rarely simple."

  "If you could, figure it out I mean," Marc said, sounding sincerer than he had since first being let out of his room, "could someone here maybe tell us which city we were supposed to have started in? The city where the people we knew would have been brought to?"

  At last, Eliza stopped, facing all of us. "In theory… but, it’s a little more complicated than that." She paused to check a rectangular device in her pocket. "We probably have time for a quick detour." She didn’t bother waiting for an answer. "Yeah, we’ve got time to do this. I mean, no one here seems to know what to do with you yet anyway. What do you guys say, are you dying for food, or do you want to see something potentially kind of cool?"

  "Food can wait," I said immediately. Both Devon and Marc nodded their approval.

  "In that case," Eliza pumped her fist into the air, "turn around and go back the way we came!"

  The trip to wherever we were going didn’t seem to take long, though I wasn’t focusing enough that I could have made the trip back in reverse. All I could really think about was that somewhere nearby was my book. I only really started to see past the endless books when the four of us left the well-furnished décor of the main library behind and headed down a cement staircase into a basement. The flight of stairs came out into an equally spare hallway that curved slightly as it stretched out in the distance. We passed several open doorways to empty offices filled with books and I couldn’t help but take a peak in every single one as we passed.

  "This way," Eliza said, calling out to us, and I realized that I’d fallen several paces behind everyone else in my attempt to explore.

  We all stopped in front of a set of double swinging metal doors, each with a small round window, displaying yet more books on the other side.

  Without any fanfare, Eliza pushed the door on the left open and held it while the three of us entered the room. Once we were inside it was clear that it was more of a warehouse than a single room. Concrete walls spread out in the distance and neither the floor nor the ceiling offered much in the way of aesthetically pleasing décor. Which made sense since no one had bothered to do anything besides fill the room with books. If I’d thought the shelves on the floors above us were overwhelming, this was something else entirely. There were no shelves, no tables, no chairs. Nothing but books. They sat stacked in massive piles one on top of the other, pile after pile in only a vague semblance of rows. I’d called it a warehouse, but most warehouses I'd seen had been significantly better organized. And that was saying something.

  "What is this place?" I asked Eliza. Part of me had been hoping that she was going to take us someplace where we could just look up our origin stories and find all the answers we’d been hoping for. Instead, she had brought us to pure chaos in book form.

  "See up there?" Eliza said, pointing to a nearby stack of books that wasn't quite as high as the one beside it, only coming up to about my waist or so. It was hard to imagine how someone had managed to put that many books in one place without the entire collection toppling downward. "Watch it carefully."

  I wanted to ask more questions but did as I was told, keeping my gaze fixed on the pile of books Eliza had pointed out. Because Marc wasn't making a fuss beside me, I had to assume that he and Devon were doing the same.

  It only took a second to see what Eliza had been waiting for, as a thick hardcover book popped into existence on the top of the stack. Except, pop was an exaggeration. One moment it hadn't been there, and the next there it was. Like someone had just placed it on top of the pile.

  No, like magic. Laughter bubbled up out of me, surprised and delighted.

  But if I'd been excited by the book appearing out of nowhere, Devon's reaction was ten times stronger.

  "Holy shit," he said, barely able to contain the laughter in his voice. "That was incredible. How did you do that?"

  "I didn't do anything." Eliza didn't sound as impressed as I felt. "That's the Archive at work. As new books are completed, they arrive here to be sorted by librarians. You'd think a place like this would be able to drop a book in its rightful place on the shelves as easily as placing it down here, but no such luck. Instead, we get new books all the time. Sometimes hundreds a day, and they all start here. Then they have to be sorted and brought upstairs so they can be found easier later. It's a bit of a process."

  "There. It happened again." I turned toward the direction Marc was looking and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But then again, I wouldn't have. But I certainly believed him, and that wherever he’d been looking there was now one more book there than there had been a minute ago.

  "So, the books don't all go in that stack then?" I asked, my eyes drifting back to the original pile we’d been looking at. Because Eliza had pointed it out, I'd assumed that all the new books were appearing on that same place. Which would mean all the books that had come in yesterday would be all in the same place, and hopefully easy to find.

  "Alas, no. That would be too easy. We can usually tell which piles are active based on the size, but it's not always quite that easy. On some days, the books seem to appear in piles that correspond to the sections of the Archive that they will be sorted into. Other days, it's completely random. And then on the days when the Archive is particularly annoyed at us for whatever reason, we start getting new books scattered around the building. Never a title left in the right place, of course. But a never-ending Easter egg hunt that no one can ever see coming, or really figure out the right answer to. And because of how quickly books are being published now, there's always a backlog. Always. I don't think I've ever seen this room more than half empty, and it's not the only warehouse in the building. So, there are always books to be sorted, and never enough people to see to it. I figure, once I finish off my rotation playing receptionist for the Council, then I'll end up stuck, back to sorting again for a few weeks. They have us, apprentices, do a bit of everything so that we have a decent sense of what our options are before we pledge to one order or another."

  I was still barely hearing anything Eliza was saying, though I tried to remember as much as I could to really think on it later. My book might have been in that room. My friends, my family, Darren.

  "Okay, but you guys all saw that book just appear out of nowhere, right?" Devon's voice still held a giddy note. "That was freaking incredible. It was magic! This is too damn cool."

  At last, I made myself look away from the piles of books and focused on my new friend’s face. Before, I would've guessed he wa
s in about his mid-to-late twenties. But with the way he was grinning at the piles and piles of books, I now pegged him as just out of his teens.

  "Right. I keep forgetting you guys are all probably prosaics. None of you came from worlds with magic, right?"

  "I didn't," I said, and looked over at the guys who were both shaking their heads.

  "I saw some pretty crazy stuff yesterday, so you can call me a believer," Marc said, "but before that I was just a cop in Chicago. But some guy yesterday called me that too. Prosaic. He didn't exactly make it seem to a good thing."

  "It just means someone who came from a world without magic. Or, sometimes someone non-magical in a magical story."

  "I don't care what you call me, I just want to see more stuff like that," Devon said.

  "Well, we should probably get going. I promised the Keeper I’d get you guys fed and then up to the classrooms to meet with Joanna. Lucky you."

  Eliza didn't wait for us and instead pushed her way back out of the warehouse and into the hallway. I cast one last look back at all the books, just at the right moment to see yet another pop into existence. I needed to believe that my book was in that room somewhere, even if there wasn't anything I could do about it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "Any chance you have a map or pamphlet of some kind we could use to find our way around?" I asked as the four of us traversed yet another set of stairs. Even though we just left the lower level, we’d had to go all the way back up through the lobby to get to our new destination which was in a completely separate basement from the one we'd just left.

  What kind of all powerful, omniscient being had designed a place like this? Nothing here made any sense. Maybe at one point, when the Archive had been far smaller, there had been some semblance of logic, but it must have disappeared overtime as the building continued to grow.

  "Not really. We have a map near the front lobby so people can find the genres they’re interested in, and there are librarians around if they still need help finding something specific. No one’s ever needed any more than that," Eliza said, while Devon and I shared a look like she was clearly a crazy person. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to how this place was set up and I didn't relish the idea of poking around without a personal tour guide. Although, left on my own, I’d find some interesting things just by picking a direction and walking for a while.

  No part of me thought that the Archive was boring, but it definitely required a map.

  We ended up in a large staff room decorated with sofas, a few small televisions sitting on desks, plus of course more books. A passion for reading was clearly a prerequisite for becoming a librarian. Deep blue throw rugs under a matching set of coffee tables formed a focal point around the three seating areas in the middle of the room.

  From the other end of the staff room we entered a large area that could only be described as a cafeteria. It was smaller than the one I remembered from my high school but was arranged in the same way, with endless long tables and chairs filling most of the room. There was a long row of stoves, microwaves, and counter space, presumably for the use of anyone who needed it. And in the corner sat a few different appliances that at first I thought were refrigerators, but at a closer look were far wider than what I was expecting.

  There was only one other person in the room and he didn't so much as look up when we came in, intent on his plate of pasta as he shoveled spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. He wore the same white robes as everyone else but I could see his were spattered with red sauce.

  Eliza deposited us at the end of a row of tables close to the kitchen area and took off at a jog toward one of the appliances I couldn't put a name to.

  Devon, Marc, and I sat in bewildered silence as we waited for her to return, each staring off at something different, lost in thought.

  When Eliza came back a minute later, she was carrying something I absolutely recognized. A cardboard pizza box whose lid we quickly flipped open. My mouth started to water right away. I was even more impressed when she set it down on the table and I could see steam coming off the combination of sauce and cheese. Eliza deposited four water bottles onto our table from a paper bag she’d been carrying along with the pizza.

  "You get delivery to this place?" Devon asked. Eliza only nodded, already intent on picking up a slice of the pizza for herself. "How cool is it that this place has magic, and still has pizza delivery?" Devon grinned but a second later his mouth was busy tearing into a slice of pepperoni pizza.

  I could only mmm my agreement as my mouth was already full. The pizza wasn't quite as good as the one I'd eaten at the pub the day before, but the fact that it was hot enough to have just come out of the oven moments ago, was more than enough to make up for the slightly bland taste.

  Just as I was leaning in to grab a second piece, a commotion came from the other side of the room. A large group had come in through the same door we'd used, talking amongst themselves. There had to be at least a dozen people, a mix of men and women all dressed in workout clothes rather than the attire I was finally getting used to seeing.

  The moment the crowd saw us, their voices hushed. They were still talking, but far quieter than they had been a moment before and at least half of the group seemed fixated on ours. They were talking about us, I was sure of it.

  "Ignore them," Eliza said in a whisper, as soon as she swallowed what had been in her mouth. "Nosy bastards, all of them."

  I didn’t respond, worried I’d be overheard, or that I’d just say the wrong thing. I had never minded a little extra attention, but ever since arriving in the After, the attention I was getting never seemed to be the right kind. It was possible that this new crowd was just interested because we were outsiders, but I’d already seen enough to know there was more to it. These guys knew who we were, and why we were here. At least as well as anyone else did. And their suspicion radiated off each of them in waves.

  As the four of us ate in silence, the feeling of strangers watching my every move was almost palpable. It only felt slightly less unnerving than the sensation of being hunted, which I'd experienced the day before. Neither was much fun.

  Despite our discomfort, we still managed to finish off the large pizza in record time. I tried to ignore the little voice in the back of my head that was already wondering where my next meal would come from as I swallowed my last bite.

  I missed regular meals, and knowing where my food was coming from. And not having to feel gratitude towards those who took enough pity on me to make sure I had something to eat. Not that I wasn’t grateful, but I did miss just being able to go into my own kitchen and make my own dinner without it being a highlight of my day.

  "What do you guys say? Are you ready to get out of here?" Eliza didn't wait for an answer as she hopped up from her seat, confident the three of us would follow quickly, which we did without hesitation.

  As we passed the big group, very few of them bothered to feign an interest in their own lunches long enough to stop studying us. My gaze darted down to my wrist as I covered my new scar with my other hand, trying to look inconspicuous. Was this the thing that made me so interesting?

  I still had Harper’s bracelet from the night before, but I had put it on my other wrist, not giving the action much thought at the time. Now, far more deliberately, I unsnapped the claps and then reattached it over the scarred sunrise on my wrist. I forced myself not to look away when I caught the eye of a brown-skinned woman who watched me with an intense level of concentration, but I still felt guilty somehow.

  "Hey guys, how's it going?" Eliza said with a wave as she reached the door. She didn’t wait for a response, but her face had been plastered with a toothy grin that didn't quite seem genuine.

  "What was that about?" Marc asked. "What happened to ‘nosy bastards’?"

  "Those guys are the Protectorate, essentially law enforcement for the Archive. Since I haven't decided yet which order I'll be pledging once I graduate, no point in pissing anyone off."

  "Yo
u might end up working with those guys?" I asked.

  "Probably not. I’m leaning toward becoming a Scholar, but we’re not supposed to get too attached to any one order over another until we have experience with all of them. Next year I can actually try working within the orders and see what I like best."

  Eliza took a different route to get us back up to the main level, and I was starting to suspect that she was keeping us deliberately confused about how to get around inside the Archive.

  We took off for the back of the building, and soon I caught sight of a large clearing of shelves in the distance that seemed to have seating and even a coffee cart, but I lost track of it before long.

  "So, there are Scholars and the Protectorate. What else?" I asked, both out of a need to fill the silence and a deep desire to know more.

  "There are four orders, each headed by one of the councilors. Protectorate, led by the Hand of the Archive. The Head leads the Scholars—they focus on using the incoming books to learn as much as they can about the other world and their technology, and how we can implement what they’ve learned in our own world. Then there are the Archivists, led by the Eye. They’re focused on tracking the characters who enter the After and how the world changes because of these new additions and new books."

  Eliza paused only long enough to unlock a heavy oak door at what looked to be the back of the building. But instead of reaching sunlight, we slipped through the door into yet another block of rooms. These were decorated more like a house than a public building, with plush furniture and portraits on the walls. "Then the Heart of the Archive leads the Keepers. They’re a little harder to explain, almost like religious leaders, interpreting the will of the Archive."

  I nodded along like all this made perfect sense as I did my best to commit everything to memory while I took in our new surroundings. The four councilors I’d met the night before were clearly the leaders of the Archive. Who did what exactly was hard to say. Even if Grayson hadn’t already outed himself as the Hand, he would have been the obvious choice for the person in charge of protecting the Archive. But everyone else… And what any of that meant for me, I couldn’t say.