The Library: The Complete Series (All 8 Books) (2013)

by Amy Cross

  "Hey!" Haley shouts, stumbling out of the bar and giving me a big hug. After a moment, she looks up at the sky. "Fuck. Is that a storm?"

  "Can you see it too?" I ask, desperately hoping that there's been some kind of mistake.

  "My eyesight's not that bad," she replies with a laugh. "Great. I was thinking of going into town for some more drinks, but I guess that's off. I really just want to go crazy tonight."

  "What about him?" I ask, pointing at the dark figure still standing on the other side of the quadrant, watching my every move. "Can you see him?"

  "Yeah," she says. "Who is it? He looks kind of creepy."

  "He's..." I pause for a moment. "He's some guy. He tried to talk to me."

  "Like a creep?" she asks, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "Do you think I should call security?"

  "No," I say hurriedly. "It's nothing like that. It's just..." I watch as the figure steps back into the shadows. "It's just some drunk guy, I guess," I continue eventually, deciding that I'd rather not make a big thing out of this. I'm probably just overreacting as usual. "You know what this place can be like late at night, right?"

  "Whatever," she replies. "You still seem pretty out of it, Claire. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

  Taking a deep breath, I try to decide what to do. If Haley's seeing the same things that I'm seeing, there's only one possible explanation: she must be a hallucination as well. The real Haley is probably still inside the bar.

  "I have to go," I say, running around the side of the bar and making my way toward the library. I have no idea what I'm going to do, but I feel as if I have to get into the room I saw earlier, the one with Thomas J. Sharpe's name on the door. I have no idea who Sharpe is or why he feels so important, but I've got an overwhelming urge to see if there's something in there that can help me.

  "Claire!" Haley calls after me, but her voice is quickly drowned out by the sound of the developing storm above us.

  Reaching the library, I find that the doors are locked, so I hurry around to the back and finally find a small window that's been left open. I have to force the damn thing almost off its hinges in order to open it wide enough, but eventually I'm able to slip inside. I can still hear the storm developing above, and I'm quite certain that if I wait long enough, I'll see the dark figure still following me. Right now, however, I feel as if I have no choice. Even if I'm losing my mind, I have to be in the library. This is the only place where I feel safe, and I'm going to hide out here until the morning. Once the night has passed, hopefully things are going to feel a little more normal. Either that, or I'll have completely lost my mind.

  Vanguard

  "What are you doing?" asks a familiar voice.

  Turning, I see that Reith, the last of the Elders, is staggering toward me. He is old and frail, and his face is marked with a series of small cuts. How he survived the onslaught of the Forbidders, I do not know, but he is clearly on his last legs. He will be dead before long. Like me, he is little more than a relic of a world that has now been destroyed. We both should be dead, rather than clinging to life like shadows on a page.

  "What does it look like I'm doing?" I reply, getting on with my job. It's typical that a man like Reith would not understand the duty of a warrior.

  "It looks like you're digging your own grave," he says, stopping to observe me. "I know that this is your duty. It's a sad sight to see, but I understand why you're doing it."

  Not answering, I continue to scoop up the blood-soaked soil and throw it out of the small pit that I've begun to carve out of the ground. While it might seem morbid to dig one's own grave, this is part of the honor system of the Soldiers of Tea. We all swore that when the time came, we would choose the right moment to leave this world. By burying myself, I am denying my enemies the satisfaction of determining the manner of my death. I am also increasing the chances that I will be reunited with my dead family. I can only hope that their spirits, which once whistled through the holes in their broken skulls, will come and find me.

  "This place is ruined," Reith continues after a moment. "All the old prophecies said that the Library would last forever, that it was born of blood and fire but that it would never again descend to such a state. Perhaps the prophecies lulled us into a false sense of security, but we all believed them to be true. Never before have the prophecies been denied. How all of this came to pass, I cannot begin to understand."

  "We failed," I say, tossing up another handful of dirt. The pit is now a couple of feet deep, and I'm hopeful that I'll have completed it by sundown. My tired bones are ready to be laid to rest.

  "No-one could have withstood the power of the Forbidders," he replies. "Did you see them at the end? Huge creatures, standing astride the Citadel and breathing fire down onto the land. I watched as the shelves burn, as they were torn up by their roots. I cannot imagine a power strong enough to have resisted the Forbidders. It's as if, once they arrived here, it was inevitably that their wrath would be absolute. We didn't realize it at the time, but we have been doomed for many years."

  "Do you wish me to kill you?" I ask. "If that is why you have come to find me, I will be only too glad to provide such a service. Pass my sword and I will happily remove your head."

  "No," he says with a sigh. "I feel a greater punishment for my failings would be for me to wander these lands and look upon the destruction. From one edge of the Library to another, I will walk until eventually I drop."

  "You are taking a coward's way out," I sneer. "While others fight, you insist on standing back and observing."

  "We can't all be warriors," he replies. "Besides, the battle's over. There's no-one left to fight. Your enemy defeated you, Vanguard, and then they left the field of battle. As far as they're concerned, you're no longer a threat. How does it feel to know that they can't even be bothered to come back and kill you?"

  "You don't know what you're talking about," I mutter darkly.

  "I heard you screaming," he says. "I heard you calling them to come and face you. They didn't come, though, did they? They've already move on to other battles. To them, you were just an annoyance."

  "At least I fought them," I point out. "You just hid, Reith. You hid like a coward."

  "That's how you see it," he replies. "I see it differently. There are already signs of a great chaos coming to this world, Vanguard. Your old friend Fig, for example, is circling the remains of the Citadel, locked into a kind of madness. She hisses and rattles and screams, and I'm quite certain she will never recover her sanity." He pauses for a moment. "From my point of view, the bravest thing a man can do in these circumstances is to remain alive and face the trauma that has devastated these lands."

  "Then I must be a coward," I reply bitterly, "since I choose to die."

  "Would you not prefer to live?" he asks. "Could we not rebuild this world?"

  "With what?" I say, starting to find his questions annoying. "There is nothing here but soil and blood. Face it, old man. This world is dead."

  Rather than replying, he simply stands and watches for a few minutes as I continue to dig my grave. The soil is so wet with blood, so soaked in the detritus of battle, that my hands are already stained red. Although my body is recovering from the injuries I sustained in the final battle, I still feel weak, and I am hoping that I will die swiftly once I am underground. After all, without sunlight, I will perhaps finally sink into the sleep of death.

  "Will you permit me to share one final truth with you before you are gone?" Reith asks eventually.

  "I will not stop you," I reply tersely, "if you choose to babble on while you stand by my grave."

  "There is something I must show you," he continues. "I have been studying the void, and I have made a discovery. It's something that might have helped us long ago, if only one of us had noticed it before. Still, I feel it could be relevant to our situation."

  "Save it for your own eyes," I say.

  "It's something I wish you to see, Vanguard. I know you're a warrior, but I also know that
there's another side to your soul. You recognize the balance of the heavens, and you have more than a passing interest in the void."

  "I'm not interested in false hope," I tell him.

  "There is nothing hopeful about what I aim to show you," he says. "I merely believe that I have discovered the source of the darkness that has been spreading through the seven worlds." He waits for me to answer. "Are you not curious, Vanguard? Before you die, would you not like to know the nature of the power that will one day overwhelm all of existence?"

  "You're deluded," I reply.

  "Then come and see the delusion of an old man," he says. "Come and prove me wrong. If you're going to die anyway, you might as well come and view the void one final time. If I'm right, you might even see something new, something that no-one has ever noticed before. Even in your wounded state, Vanguard, does that not interest you? Does it not entice you?"

  Pausing for a moment, I realize that I would dearly love to stare one final time into the void. I wish to allow my mind to clear, to allow myself to lose all my worldly cares. I have lived many years in this world, and I have never seen anything as beautiful as the vast, empty nothingness that exists between the seven worlds. To gaze upon such a sight one more time, before I consign myself to the darkness of the grave, would be a divine moment. Perhaps it is not a moment that I deserve, but it is one that I cannot resist.

  "I will come with you," I say, looking down at my grave and realizing that it is close to being finished. "I will return here when we are done, though. My grave awaits. I shall not dodge the fate that is due to all who fail."

  "You still consider yourself to be a failure?" Reith asks. "Even after such a long battle?"

  "This world is destroyed," I reply, "and Claire is to be taken by the Forbidders once they track her down. I have failed doubly, and for that I must accept the fate of one who has disgraced the honor of the Soldiers of Tea."

  "That is your choice," he replies, "but first you must see what I have discovered. At the very least, it should help you to understand the true nature of the forces we have faced. It might even bring a smile to your lips, Vanguard. Believe me, this is something you will scarcely believe to be possible."

  Claire

  With moonlight streaming through the windows, I have no trouble finding my way around the library. Usually, it'd be pretty creepy to be in here alone late at night, but right now I've got much bigger things to worry about. I can still hear the storm developing outside, and I'm convinced that the dark figure is going to follow me in here eventually. I don't even have much of a plan now that I'm inside, but I figure I have to go and find the door to Thomas J. Sharpe's office. His name seems to be a link to the library described in Smotherwood's book.

  "Please don't be insane," I say quietly to myself as I reach Sharpe's office door. After a moment, however, I realize that the best option might actually be for me to turn out to have lost my mind. At least it'd mean that all this stuff about the world being destroyed would be false. "Please be insane," I say eventually, before knocking on Sharpe's door.

  I wait, but there's no reply.

  "Hello?" I call out, trying the handle and finding that it's unlocked. I stare at the stenciled name on the wood for a moment. I have no idea what I'm going to find on the other side, but I feel as if I have to go into the room. Pushing the door open, I take a deep breath, prepared for anything.

  Stepping forward, I peer into the darkness. I can see a desk, and there's something resting on the surface. From here, it looks like some kind of bowling ball, although as I get closer I see that it has various protuberances sticking out. After a few seconds, I realize that the protuberances are actually arms and legs, and finally I see that the 'bowling ball' has a face. It's like some kind of cannonball on legs, cooked up by a special effects team for a movie. The top of its head is covered by what seems to be a metal helmet, and perhaps the most shocking thing is that I can see, between its legs, its genitals dangling down.

  "What the fuck?" I mutter under my breath, approaching the desk cautiously. As I get closer, I see that there are two eyes on the face, and they're staring blankly up at the ceiling. There's a large gash on the ball's side, and a dark liquid is flowing out of the wound, across the desk and down to the floor. I want to believe that it's a fake, but I can't shake the feeling that I've met this 'thing' before. I have a vague memory of walking with him along some kind of corridor, and talking to him in a castle.

  "Can you hear me?" I ask, before reaching out and prodding him.

  No answer.

  "Thomas J. Sharpe?" I continue, giving him a gentle push.

  Still nothing.

  "Are you..." I start to say, before pausing for a moment. Finally, I realize that this creature - whatever he is - is dead. That's assuming he was ever really alive in the first place...

  "You can't be real," I say quietly. However, even though I know that such a creature can't possibly exist, I seem to have a strange memory of having met him before. It's almost as if he's an old friend, someone I've spent time with in the past. Despite not remembering him, I feel a crippling sadness wash over me as I stare down at his dead body.

  "I'm sorry about your friend," says a familiar voice from nearby.

  Turning, I see Haley standing in the doorway, with a curious smile on her face. She's wearing some kind of dark shawl, which I guess makes sense given that there's a storm brewing. Still, there's something 'off' about her, although I guess I can't really judge these things properly. I can't trust my own perceptions at the moment.

  "What are you doing here?" I ask, my heart pounding. The last thing I want to do is drag Haley into this whole mess.

  "I came to see you," she continues, stepping closer. "What did you expect to find in here, anyway? It was always inevitable that Sharpe was going to die. The day he left you in the citadel, he knew his time was up. He'd done his job, and all he had left to look forward to was death. Quite why he chose to come here, I have no idea, but he always seemed a little mentally unstable. Ironic, really, given that he's little more than a head on legs."

  "He was..." I start to say, before pausing as I realize that there's something strange about the way that Haley's talking. "This isn't a person," I continue, looking down at the strange little blob. "I mean, look at it. It's some kind of toy. It's a puppet or something."

  "Ouch," she replies with a laugh. "It's a good job he can't hear you say that. The poor guy gave up his life to find you, Claire. Don't you remember how he came and dragged you out of your home and took you to the Library? Don't you remember how he helped you when you first took on your human form?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, turning to her. There's definitely something wrong with Haley, but I can't quite put my finger on the problem. Whereas a moment ago she seemed drunk and happy, now she seems strangely calm. I've got no idea what's real and what's not at the moment, which I guess makes it official: I'm losing my mind. I've gone way, way over the edge and I'm going to need help.

  "I have to go," I say, pushing past Haley and heading back out of the office. Seconds later, however, I spot a human head on the floor. Stunned, I stare at it and I realize it's the rotten, diseased head of the guy I met outside earlier. Fighting the urge to vomit, I turn and find that Haley has followed me. In the back of my mind, I'm starting to put the pieces together, but I don't want to acknowledge the truth.

  "What's wrong?" she asks.

  "Don't look," I reply, trying to pull her away.

  "Oh, that," she continues. "Yes, it's disgusting, isn't it? Believe me, it wasn't pleasant at all. I kept it going for as long as possible, but it feels so good to have a change."

  "We have to get out of here," I say, holding her arm and forcing her to follow me along the aisle.

  "Are you going to run again?" she asks. "Do you really think that can work?"

  Stopping, I turn to face her and finally I realize why she seems so strange. Although it's Haley's face and Haley's voice, I don't think I'm ac
tually talking to Haley. This is the guy from earlier, but with a different head.

  "You're probably a little shocked," she says, reaching down and pulling her collar down to expose a thick red wound running all the way around her neck, where two entirely different sections of skin are slowly knitting together. "Did you know this girl? She was outside, so I decided to take her head. I must admit, I've never had a female face before, so I'm still getting used to the whole thing. It'll take a while to get used to it, but I'm sure I'll adapt eventually. At least the smell's a lot better, don't you think? I was getting sick of the stench of rotten flesh."

  "What the fuck are you?" I shout, stepping away from her.

  "We've met before," she replies. "You know exactly what, and who, I am."

  I shake my head, determined to find some way to break this illusion. There's no way any of this is happening. It has to be some kind of dream.

  "You have to come with me," she says firmly, with a knowing glint in her eye. "My name is Gum and I'm the emissary of the Forbidders, and I promise you that you'll never, ever get rid of me until you agree to surrender to their needs. They want the first book, Claire, and that's you. There's nowhere in the seven worlds you can hide. They're going to get you eventually, so why not show some mercy for this world? Let's get this over with as quickly as possible."

  "No," I say, trying desperately to get my head straight.

  "You want more people to die?" she asks. "Your friend died in agony. I tore her head clean off her shoulders while she was screaming. As soon as I'd placed it on top of my own neck, my spinal cord grew up into her brain and took control. Her mind might even be in here somewhere, still screaming, still begging for mercy. It's too late to save her, of course, but you can still save this world. How many people live her? Six, seven billion? Imagine the devastation the Forbidders could cause if they're set loose in such a place. Do you truly value your own life over the lives of everyone else?"