Pagewalker

by H. Duke

  “Compensation?” That sounded an awful lot like a bribe.

  “Enough to pay off the debt from your grandmother’s medical bills, and more.”

  Her neck snapped towards him at the mention of Gram. “How do you know about that?”

  “I work for very powerful people.” He reached inside his coat and pulled out a business card. She took it. It had only a phone number on it. “Call this number when you make up your mind. But don’t take too long to decide—the people I work for are not as patient as I am.” He stood. “Have a good day, Ms. Walker.”

  He walked out of the room and exited through the double doors and down the staircase. A minute later he appeared in the parking lot below her window. He glanced up at her and waved, reminding her of the previous night. She didn’t wave back. He walked towards the sidewalk and down the street.

  Once he’d disappeared, she collapsed backwards into her chair. What he offered was too good to pass up, wasn’t it? She could pay off her grandmother’s medical bills, and both of them could take a nice vacation somewhere, get away from all this…

  But how could she do that to Dorian? Was it possible that he wasn’t human, that he wasn’t even conscious? Thaddeus hadn’t said so, but allowing them to “decommission” the library was as good as a death sentence for Dorian. But was that really her problem? Dorian and Mae had conspired together, manipulated her, hadn’t they? They’d lied. They surely didn’t have her best interests at heart.

  A knock on the door made her jump. Clara stuck her head in. “Sorry to bother you,” she said apologetically, “but I saw that man leave, and I really need to get back downstairs.”

  April shook her head to clear it of those thoughts. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

  She’d tried to act normal, but she must not have done a very good job of it, because Clara asked, “Are you okay?”

  April nodded, trying to smile. “I’m fine, thanks. Just a little out of it.”

  “Who was that guy, anyway? He was a little creepy.”

  April laughed, feeling a little better. “He’s interested in the Werner Room,” she said. “He just had a few questions about it.”

  Clara left, and April headed out to the reference desk. There were only a few patrons in the room—not surprising. If she didn’t have to work, she wouldn’t have braved the chilly weather outside, either. Most of them were patrons she’d never seen before, but she recognized Randall, the homeless man who’d yelled at her the previous evening. He sat in one of the arm chairs furthest away from the reference desk. If he noticed her come in, he didn’t show it. Rex the service dog lay calmly on the floor at his feet.

  Well, if Randall wasn’t going to acknowledge her, she wasn’t going to acknowledge him, either. She spent the next few hours absorbing as much as she could about library science. She tried not to think about Thaddeus’ offer.

  She was jolted out of her scholarly stupor by the static of the walkie talkie. She grabbed it and carefully pushed down the green button, hoping she was remembering how to use it properly.

  “What’s that, Andre?”

  “It’s nearly closing time,” Andre said, and a look at the corner of her computer monitor confirmed that it was fifteen minutes past eight. “Have you started your closing procedures yet?”

  She put her palm against her forehead. Would she ever remember all this stuff? “No,” she sighed. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Don’t sweat it. You’ll catch on soon enough.”

  “Thanks. See you in a minute.”

  “Rodger that.”

  She placed the walkie talkie back in its cradle, then looked out over the library. Completely empty. She closed the notebook she’d been taking notes in, lest anyone see them and wonder why she was taking notes on things she supposedly already knew. She started walking around the library, checking for stragglers. After that, she went into the vault where the more valuable and fragile items were kept. She glanced around, then turned off the lights and locked the door.

  Knowing the library was secure, she walked over to the shelves where the Werner collection was kept. She glanced at some of the titles. Frankenstein. Dracula. The Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft. The Time Machine.

  She shivered. What if a patron took one of the books and left it open somewhere in the library where she couldn’t see it, and she didn’t know where it was? What if the gate opened and someone or something crossed over?

  She would need to check the collection every night. She glanced at the shelf helplessly. There appeared to be a loose spot where a book should have been, but it could have simply been caused by a customer shuffling the books around while browsing. There was no way for her to tell if a book was actually missing—there had to be a list of the books on this shelf, right?

  “All clear?” she jumped at the voice, and turned to find Andre, who laughed.

  “I see you’ve taken Becky’s ghost stories seriously,” he said. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of here in this library.”

  She smiled weakly. If only he knew the half of it. “Everyone’s out. You guys are free to go.”

  Andre’s smile faltered. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave with us? Can’t whatever you’re doing be done during business hours?”

  April thought for a moment. Maybe she should leave now. The gate didn’t open until nine—what if she left before then every night? It wasn’t like Dorian could follow her to her house. Could he?

  She shivered at the thought of Dorian, or Thaddeus, for that matter, knocking on her door and her grandmother answering. Running from this would only make things worse.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I like the solitude, really.”

  Andre sighed. “I’m beginning to see why Mae chose you. You’re as stubborn as she was. Okay. Well, call me when you leave, just like you did last night.”

  “I will. See you tomorrow.”

  She watched through her window as the others fought against the wind on the way to their cars. She stayed in her office trying not to watch the time flash past on the computer screen but watching it all the same.

  At nine, the grandfather clock began to chime. Her palms began to sweat and suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do this. She needed to get out of there.

  She grabbed her purse and coat. She’d lost count of the chimes. She stepped out of her office, the last chime rang out, and she felt that pain in her ears. Across the library, the crack in the window opened. She ran down the stairs and out the door that Thaddeus had used the magical hammer on.

  She fumbled with her keys for what felt like forever before she was able to maneuver her shaking hands enough to get the key into the lock and turn it.

  She rushed to her car, which was parked against the curb near the door. She was about to get in when the feeling of being watched stopped her. She looked up at the window in Mae’s office. In her haste to get out, she’d left the lamp on. Dorian was standing there, watching her. He looked resigned and… sad.

  She slid into her car but didn’t start the engine. When she glanced back up at the window, Dorian was gone. She sat there for ten, fifteen minutes before she sighed and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

  When she walked back into the Werner Room, Dorian was sitting at one of the tables nearest the door, his back turned towards her. He didn’t hear her come in. His shoulders were hunched over. He looked completely defeated. He held something in his hands. She walked closer to see what the object was—Mae’s reading glasses. They’d been on the desk in Mae’s office. He stared down at them unhappily.

  “Dorian?”

  He turned around, surprised to see her. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He quickly tucked the glasses inside his jacket. Did he think she hadn’t seen them? She decided not to say anything.

  “Well, here I am. Are you okay? You look… upset.”

  “I’m fine.” His tone was hardly convincing.

  She decided not to push it. “How do you get
in here, anyway?”

  “My book is hidden in the library. I close it after I cross over. In the morning I open it up and cross back over shortly before the gate closes.”

  “And then you wait there until it’s time to cross back over?” she asked.

  “More or less.” He looked away. “Time works differently on that side. Did you notice we spent more than an hour at Notre Dame yesterday?”

  They had, hadn’t they? When they crossed back over she’d been surprised that it was only ten. She nodded. “How do you know when the gate is going to open then?”

  Dorian pulled back his sleeve to reveal the wristwatch he’d fiddled with the previous night. It was small with a thin black leather strap. “This timepiece is synced with the grandfather clock. No matter how fast or slow time moves on the other side of the veil, this tells me what time it is in the library.”

  “What book are you from?”

  Dorian’s lips tightened. “You don’t read much, do you, Miss Walker?”

  “Not really.” she said.

  “Why are you here?” He asked, sidestepping the question. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t want any part of this.”

  She thought for a second. Why was she here? Fifteen minutes ago she’d been scared out of her mind, but here she was. Was it simply that she felt sorry for Dorian?

  “I don’t know. I guess… I just needed to know more.”

  Dorian raised an eyebrow. “More?”

  “I just kept picturing myself telling my grandkids about the night that I found a gate that crossed over into books… can I really say, ‘I never went back again, the end?’”

  Dorian nodded as though this made sense. “So what do you want to know?”

  “Why do you do it?” She asked. “I mean, it can’t just be because it’s fun, or cool, or whatever. It’s too dangerous. Why not just let the collectors have it?”

  Dorian nodded. “The truth is, there used to be a lot more of these gates than there are now, and they didn’t just go into books. But the collectors have taken all except this one.”

  “Thousands of years,” April said, repeating what Thaddeus had told her. Then she realized that maybe she didn’t want Dorian to know about his visit. “I mean, it would have to take that long, right?”

  Dorian shrugged. “Supposedly.”

  “So why protect this last one? It seems like the job is almost done, anyway.”

  “The theory is that, as long as this gate remains active, the rest can eventually be restored… but if this one closes, this world is completely cut off from the rest of the universes. This is your world’s birthright. You don’t want to lose it.” He ran his hands through his hair. “That’s not all. The gate is starting to degrade. The worlds have to be actively maintained.”

  “Maintained?”

  “Yes.” Dorian stood and went to one of the shelves. He pulled a book off the shelf and held it out to her. “Don’t open it—just look near the spine.”

  She took the book. The Great Gatsby. This book had been assigned in her high school Literature class, but she hadn’t read it. She turned it over in her hands. The pages near the spine had a black substance on them. It looked like a mixture of spilled ink and mold was growing between the pages.

  “Ew.” She put the book down on the table.

  “Ink rot. In another month or so, that book will be completely consumed by it. It affects the world, too. It’s… not pretty.”

  “So how do we stop it?”

  “Not we, you. You enter the books, find the source of the rot, and restore it before the rot spreads too far. I can go with you and guide you, but you have to do the work.”

  “Me?” She looked down at the book. Was she really the only one who could save it? Was it even worth it to do so? And Thaddeus wanted to destroy it. Why did this have to be so confusing? She sat down in the chair Dorian had just vacated.

  To her surprise, Dorian came and kneeled down on the floor in front of her. He clasped her hands in his a few inches in front of his face. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss them. Her cheeks became hot. “Listen, last night was not how I wanted to start this off. Let me show you that this is worth protecting. I’ll show you something else, something better.”

  “Better? Like what?”

  “There’s a door in the next room that can take you virtually anywhere. Where would you like to go?”

  She had to admit—his proposal was intriguing. She’d wondered how the gate worked. What were its limits? Where could it go? Not to mention that it was difficult to say no to Dorian’s beautiful, earnest face.

  But there was one thing she needed to know, first. “Why do you care so much if this isn’t your world?”

  Dorian was silent for a moment. “Mae took a chance on me, a chance I didn’t deserve. I made her a promise, and I owe her enough to try to keep it.”

  What did that mean? April had the feeling that even if she asked he wouldn’t elaborate. She nodded to the book shelf. “Surprise me.”

  Dorian grinned and walked over to the Werner Collection and pulled a few books off the shelf, considering each one before replacing it with a shake of his head. Finally, he pulled down a book the width of her palm and glanced up at her slyly.

  “What?” she asked.

  He turned the book so she could see the cover. One Thousand and One Nights.

  “That sounds familiar,” she said, trying to remember where she’d heard the title before.

  His look of excitement shifted to one of shock. “You don’t know One Thousand and One Nights? The King of Thieves? Aladdin and the Lamp?”

  “You mean like the Disney movie?”

  He sighed and shook his head as he walked towards the east wall. “Did the creators of these Disney movies make anything original?” he muttered.

  “Hey! Not all of us have read every book under the sun, okay?”

  “I just thought that you would have read a few before you sought employment at a library!” Dorian said, then sighed. “Nevermind. Let’s go.”

  He opened the book. The low thrum of static started again. A shimmer passed in front of the window. Seconds later the gate began to open, the two sides of the window pulling apart like edges of a rift opened by an earthquake.

  When the gate was about three feet wide and a few feet taller than she was, it stopped opening. It followed the curve of the stained-glass window but was not bound by its edges.

  The view through the gate was clear except for the occasional shimmering wave that passed over it. The scene on the other side appeared to be of a tight alley, much like the one they’d emerged into the previous night. Every so often she’d smell a whiff of dust, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

  “Come on,” Dorian said. The gate was not quite wide enough to pass through side-by-side, so she went through first. Part of her wondered if Dorian was making sure she didn’t abandon him and close the book as soon as he crossed over.

  She thought about doing that—then her troubles would really be over. She’d be able to do her work without worrying about him giving her trouble every night…

  But then there was the part of her that really wanted to go through the gate. She would never say so out loud and barely wanted to acknowledge it to herself, but the trip to Paris had been thrilling—even when they’d been chased. Just the day before she’d been worried about paying her bills, and now she was someone who had been to Paris!

  On the other side, the dusty smell evolved into that of sunbaked clay and sand. They were in a city center of some sort. Scraggly trees clung to the earth here and there, some with horses, goats, or camels tied to them. Mostly, it was square, sand-colored buildings, the majority two stories high or less.

  There were a few people around, but none paid them any attention. It had been the same the previous night—there seemed to be a short period after they arrived where they were invisible.

  That got April thinking. “Don’t we stand out with the way we’re dressed?” she a
sked, looking down at her panty-hose clad legs and sensible black shoes.

  “Oh!” Dorian said. “I forgot to tell you about that. Come here.” He led her over to a trough of water. “Take a look.”

  She glanced down into the water and gasped. Her reflection was dressed in a brown, robe-like dress that hung down to the floor. A shawl was draped demurely over her head. Even her face seemed different, and she spent a few extra seconds examining her features. The reflection that looked back at her looked like her, but her skin-tone was a little different. She looked like a middle-eastern version of herself. She couldn’t pin-point the other differences exactly.

  “This is how they see us,” Dorian said. She glanced over at his reflection. He wore long, loose pants and an off-white tunic. His head was also covered. “Well, we’re not rich, but we’re not poor, either.” Dorian nodded. “That’s good. We won’t attract attention, but we at least have a little spending money.”

  “So,” she said, pulling her eyes away from her reflection. “What is there to see here?”

  “Why, the most important feature in any city,” he said. “The market.”

  “Do you know where that is?”

  “No—but it shouldn’t be hard to find. It’s the place everyone is coming and going from.”

  She looked around. There was a definite flow of traffic moving down an adjacent street that was twice as wide as their alley.

  “Down that street,” she said. “But which direction?”

  “What do you think?”

  She watched the flow of traffic. The people walking to the left were carrying empty baskets, while the people walking to the right were carrying sacks that were filled with goods.

  “That way,” she said, pointing to the left.

  “You have a good eye,” Dorian said approvingly. She tried to ignore the rise of color in her cheeks.

  She glanced back at the gate, trying to remember where it was. She didn’t want a repeat of the previous evening’s events. She noted that it was next to a tree whose branches grew at an odd angle parallel to the ground.

  They followed the flow of traffic. As they walked, more and more people joined them on the road. The buildings soon gave way to a large courtyard. Despite the extra space, it was even more crowded. The entire courtyard was taken up by vendor stalls. Some were simply set up on the backs of carts, others consisted of no more than blankets spread out on the ground with vegetables or other goods laid out on them. A few people had erected awnings from fabric to protect themselves and their wares from the sun.