by H. Duke
He seemed calm, but Andre approached him. “Hey, Randall,” Andre said. “Why don’t we talk for a minute, okay? I’ll buy you a coffee from the café.”
“Yeah, okay,” Randall said, and rose to his feet. He cast a mistrustful glance in April’s direction, but said nothing.
Andre nodded soothingly. “That’s good, Randall. Why don’t you and Rex head down there and I’ll catch up. I just have to tell something to my friend over there.”
Randall nodded, and he started to walk towards the stairs. The dog followed closely on his heels.
Andre watched him until he’d gone through the double doors, then walked over to April.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” When he’d first started yelling, she’d wanted to ask him how he’d known. “Who is that?”
“That’s one of our regular homeless patrons, Randall. He comes in most days. Reads, uses the bathroom, maybe hops on a public computer. Harmless, but he’s got PTSD. Veteran.” He sighed. “He was especially attached to Mae. They’d sit up here for hours some days talking about books and what not. I wanted to tell him myself before he came up here, but I didn’t see him.” He hit the counter with his fist, making her jump. “Damn it. You okay by yourself while I go talk to him?”
She nodded. “What about that dog? I thought dogs weren’t allowed in the library.”
“That’s Rex, Randall’s service dog. Helps calm him down when he’s having an episode. Better behaved than most of the teenagers who come in here.” He smiled, but the expression didn’t stick. “I’ll be downstairs. Call me on the walkie talkie if you need anything.”
She nodded. She hoped she wouldn’t need anything. Her hands still shook as she gathered up the magazines Randall had dropped.
~~~
She was able to get through the rest of the night by using the computer. She only had to call Becky twice.
At eight fifteen, Andre made the fifteen-minute announcement over the walkie talkie. April carried it with her as she walked through the stacks letting the few patrons know that the library was closing. She listened to the other staff members chatter over the radio about what they were going to do when they went home. They didn’t seem to notice that she remained silent.
At eight thirty, Andre walked up the stairs to check on her one last time. He was carrying a backpack, and now wore a jacket over his white button-down shirt.
“Everything’s good up here?” he said.
She nodded. “All clear.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to stay here alone. I guess I got used to Mae doing it, and I know you can take care of yourself, but…” he trailed off. “Why don’t you just leave with us tonight?”
April thought for a moment. She really didn’t feel comfortable being in the huge library all by herself, but… “What if Barb finds out? I think she’ll use any excuse she can to fire me.” She paused. “Anyway, I have my after-close duties.” She could use the time to try to figure out all the things she needed to learn before the test without everyone breathing down her neck.
“What if I stay with you? Just for tonight. I’d feel a lot better about it.”
Damn it. She wouldn’t be able to really dig through stuff if he was around. “That’s okay. I don’t want to keep you.” When he didn’t look convinced, she added, “I’m worried Barb might use that as an excuse too, you know?”
Andre thought for a moment. “You’re parked right outside of the back door?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Okay. Just call me when you leave so I know you got to your car alright.”
She nodded, relief flooding her body. “Will do. But I’ll be fine. Remember how I kicked that guy’s butt?”
She’d meant it as a joke, but Andre didn’t laugh. “Sometimes cocky thinking like that is what gets you in trouble.”
Still, he didn’t protest further. She watched Andre and the others walk to their cars from the same window she’d seen Mae in the day of her interview. Andre and Becky waved up at her. She waved back, then watched them drive away.
She breathed a sigh of relief. She liked Andre and Becky, but it was nice not to have to keep up the charade of knowing what she was doing. She sighed. She had over an hour before she was supposed to go home. It wasn’t nearly enough time to learn all the things she needed to know about being a special collection librarian, but it was a start.
The first thing on the agenda: What the hell were the after-hours duties everyone kept talking about? It must have been important for Mae to do it every day. What if it was something that would be catastrophic if it didn’t get done?
She glanced out into the Werner Room. Andre had turned off the main lights, and the only illumination came from the fluorescent security lights. The stacks seemed spooky. She shivered, then closed the blinds on the window.
The clock on the desktop computer read eight forty-two. She checked the digital calendar on the desktop to see if Mae had set any reminders, but no such luck. Not surprising—Mae didn’t seem like the type of person who used technology if she didn’t have to.
She rifled through the papers on the desk, trying to ignore the feeling that she was violating Mae’s privacy somehow. Going through Mae’s desk was like going on an archaeological dig. She moved some papers and uncovered a small planner bound in crisp leather. Unlike most of the books on the desk, it appeared new.
She opened it to the page for the previous week. There were no reminders for the after-hours duties. Only meeting reminders, and what appeared to be a log of the books Mae was reading:
October 3: “Grapes of Wrath,” pg 412
October 4: “The Great Gatsby,” pg 24
And so on. Mae read an awful lot by the looks of it. No wonder she was a librarian. Once she got to the previous Friday’s date—November ninth—she was surprised to see a name there rather than a book title:
For Barty:
Turner, S. pg 113
That was it, nothing else. Huh. Maybe there was a quote on that page that she wanted to show Barty—whoever that was. As far as April knew, no one name Barty worked at the library, and Mae didn’t have any close friends or relatives. Could Barty be a library customer?
April flipped through the rest of the pages, but nothing else looked useful. Certainly not a list of things to do after close. She let the planner shut with a thump.
The thump was echoed by three loud bangs on the office door.
Chapter 4
Thump Thump Thump!
April jumped at the unexpected noise. Damn it. Andre must have come back. What was she going to tell him? She obviously wasn’t doing anything important in here.
She breathed in and out, trying to think of a believable excuse…
Thump thump!
What was with all the pounding? “Hold on! Jeez!”
She fixed a smile on her face as she opened the door, but it immediately fell away. Instead of Andre’s imposing frame, the man who stood in the doorway was slightly built. Golden curls circled his head—backlit by the fluorescent security lights behind him, they looked like a halo. He was dressed in a suit, but it was unlike any suit she’d ever seen in person, though she thought she recognized the style from period movies.
One word entered her mind as she looked at him: beautiful. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Thank God he couldn’t hear her thoughts!
Focus. Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you. He was slender and not much taller than she was, but that didn’t mean much. Her mind immediately went to the first tenant of self-defense: prevention.
She fought the urge to step backwards; it would make her look like a target. She planted her feet even with her shoulders and held both of her hands palms-out in front of her body. It would send a subconscious signal for him to stay away. It would also make it easier to block an attack.
“Stop,” she said firmly. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?”
He held up his ha
nds to show they were empty. “I won’t hurt you.” He spoke with a British accent. “My name is Dorian.”
“The library is closed. How did you get in here?”
“I know. I work—worked—for Mae.”
“Then how come I haven’t met you?”
“Mae was going to introduce us on Friday night,” Dorian said. “But…” he looked down.
She relaxed a little in spite of herself. Her instincts told her that he meant her no harm. At the same time, something wasn’t right. If he worked for Mae, then why hadn’t anyone else mentioned him? Did he have something to do with the mysterious after-hours duties?
“Do you know who I am?” she asked. If he really knew Mae, he should know her name.
“Yes,” the man said. “You’re April Walker, her replacement.”
“Did you help Mae with the after-hours duties?” Maybe he could tell her what the heck she was supposed to do now.
Before he could respond, the building shuddered, almost knocking her off her feet. It felt as though a train had rammed into the library.
“Was that an earthquake?” she said, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady herself.
Dorian walked past her towards the window that overlooked the parking lot. “It’s too late.”
“Too late?”
He looked back at her. “They’re here.”
She hurried towards the window and looked out, forgetting that she was supposed to be wary of him. About a dozen men stood outside. They were difficult to make out at first, because they all wore black. They stood outside of the main entrance.
“Who are they?” she asked. The man closest to the door pulled something away from it—a hammer. The metal head glinted in the parking lot light. Then, as though he felt their eyes, he looked up at them and waved. It sent a chill up her spine. He turned away and struck the door with the hammer. He barely seemed to tap it, but still the building shuddered once more, sending pens and papers falling off Mae’s desk.
Dorian looked at her, his face grim. “I’m sorry.” He walked past her and through the office door, out into the stacks.
She followed him. “Sorry for what? Who are they? How can that tiny hammer shake the entire building?”
He turned to her. “I wanted to lead you into this gradually. That was always Mae’s plan, but her death has left the library vulnerable.” He walked towards one of the shelves. A copper plate screwed into the shelf read Werner Fiction Collection.
He began to look at the backs of the spines. “No… no… definitely not… no… ah.” He pulled out one of the books.
She walked towards him and was about to ask him what he was talking about, but she stopped dead in her tracks. He opened the book, and her ears began to hurt, as though the room had been pressurized. A staticky humming noise like that of an old television filled the air.
Then the pressure disappeared—it felt like her ears had popped, except all over her body. The static noise continued to come from the other side of the shelf. Curious, she walked towards it—stopping when she rounded the shelf.
The sound was coming from the east wall—or more accurately, from the other side of it. A crack had formed in the middle stained-glass window, bisecting it. She might have thought the earthquake (not earthquake, she thought dimly, the shockwaves from the hammer) had cracked the window, except sunshine was seeping through it. How was light coming through when the sun had set nearly four hours earlier?
The crack started to widen, the stained-glass window disappearing bit by bit. When it had consumed the entire window, it moved on to the wall.
“That’s not possible.”
She blinked in the brightness. There was… movement on the other side. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw humans, but they were oddly dressed. Some pushed carts, others walked alongside livestock. The tang of manure assaulted her nose.
The building shuddered once more, but this time the crack of breaking wood accompanied it.
“They’re inside,” Dorian said, but it barely seemed worth her attention, considering what she was seeing in front of her.
“Who are they?” she asked, dazed. Her eyes never left the ever-widening crack in the wall.
“Bad guys.”
She turned to look at Dorian. “And who are you? A good guy?”
“I told you my name,” he said.
“Not your name. Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get in here?”
“I’m a friend. There’s time for more of an explanation later.”
A cracking sound at the double doors drew both of their attention. “Right,” Dorian said. “Time to go.” He took her hand and started to pull her towards the crack.
“What are you doing?” She turned her wrist, easily jerking it through the weak point in his grip where his fingertips met. Normally she would have run from him, but her feet seemed glued to the floor. She looked back at the gateway, half expecting it to be gone. “What is it?” she asked.
He ignored her question. “I’m so sorry,” he said, and then pushed her through the gate.
She yelped, expecting to plummet to the concrete in the alley on the other side of the wall. Instead, she landed on her knees in the dust.
People were walking by, but none of them seemed to notice her. The closest was a woman who looked to be in her forties. She wore a long plain skirt with a leather corset tied around her waist. A dead chicken dangled upside down from her hand.
Dorian appeared behind her. “They can’t see us,” he said. “But that won’t last. Come on.” He reached for her hand but she pulled away from him.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, his eyes pleading. Again, her gut told her to trust him… but maybe that was just because he looked like an angel. She needed to judge him by his actions and not his looks. He just kidnapped you. Keep it together, woman!
April backed away from him, not paying attention to her surroundings. She collided with the woman holding the chicken.
“Watch where you’re going!” the woman said, glaring at her. “What do you think you’re doing, running into a person? Well, speak up!”
April opened her mouth to respond, but Dorian quickly stepped in front of her. “She meant no offense, ma’am.” He leaned in. “She’s a little…”
April couldn’t make out the rest of what he said, but she understood the twirling gesture he made at the side of his head well enough.
“Hey!” she said.
“Just keep her under control,” the woman said. Her expression hadn’t softened. “Some of us have work to do.” With that, she continued down the street, her nose held high in the air.
“What crawled up her butt?” April said, crossing her arms.
“Don’t worry too much about her,” Dorian said. “If you had to live in the Middle Ages, you’d be brusque, too.”
“Middle Ages?” April said. “Wait a second—where are we? Where’s the library?” She turned around, but the crack was gone.
“Well, it’s where and when,” Dorian said, running his fingers through his hair. “We’re in the late fifteenth century Paris, France.”
“France?” April said, crossing her arms. “And just how did we manage to travel back in time?” she paused for only a second. “Never mind. I don’t have to listen to this.”
She walked towards the wall that Dorian had just appeared from. It was made of very solid-looking gray stone.
She glanced at Dorian, who watched her expectantly. “An edifice, no doubt,” she said. “I was in drama club in high school. We made some very realistic sets, much like this.” She ran her fingers over the stone and was surprised to find that it felt real. “There must be a latch or handle here somewhere…”
“Don’t waste your time,” Dorian said. “I promise I will show you how to get back. But first you must listen to what I have to say.”
“Why don’t you take me back and then we’ll talk,” April said.
He raised an eyebrow, and April tried to ignore how attractive it made h
im look. “I’m no fool, Ms. Walker,” he said. “If I show you the way back, you’ll run away the first chance you get—and most likely contact the authorities, something neither of us wants.”
This is exactly what she would have done. “Would not,” she said out loud anyway.
His eyebrow raised even higher, if that was possible, and an impish grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Forgive me for not taking that chance.”
She had an idea. She pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket.
“That won’t work here,” Dorian said. “No signal.”
He was right. There was a small circle with a line through it in the upper right corner of the screen. She put the phone away.
“How can I trust you?” she asked, though it was starting to sink in that she really didn’t have a choice. “You kidnapped me.” A frightening thought occurred to her. What if this wasn’t real at all? What if she was hallucinating? “Wait a minute—did you drug me?”
Dorian laughed. “Do you feel like you’ve been drugged?”
She didn’t. Her mind felt as clear as ever, especially now that the shock of seeing the crack was starting to wear off. But that didn’t really mean anything, did it? She crossed her arms and stared at him.
Dorian sighed, and reached down and grabbed a long, club-like stick off the ground. He held it out to her.
“If my behavior is in any way unsatisfactory or improper in the least, I give you permission to beat me senseless.”
She considered the stick. It looked like her only option. But if he thought she was just going to agree without laying out the terms of their arrangement, he had another thing coming.
“Do you promise to answer all of my questions?”
“Of course.”
She thought for another moment, then took the stick with a sigh.
Dorian smiled. “Thank you for your trust.”