by Shea, K. M.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: New Page Turner
There’s a new page turner arriving next week. Her partial file is attached. Prep for her.
Daire stared his newest received email, unable and unwilling to understand it.
“Something wrong, Daire?” Jeremiah asked as he swiped a fruit cup from the mini fridge that was precariously perched on his desk.
Daire looked up from his laptop. “My uncle just sent me an email. He says we’re getting another page turner.”
Jeremiah looked up and blinked. “But we didn’t ask for another page turner.”
Daire returned his gaze to his laptop. “I know.”
“Did you remind him of that?”
“I’m about to.”
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: New Page Turner
I did not ask for another page turner. We already have enough people in our task force.
Daire sent the email and returned his attention to his report for the Minnesota League of Fairy Godmothers, and was only slightly surprised when a reply popped up in his inbox seconds later.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: New Page Turner
Of course you didn’t request her. She’s been forced on us. Take care of it.
Daire read the email out loud to Jeremiah, who choked on a strawberry and stammered, “But, but, we don’t want her!”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Daire said, exhaling as he returned to the first email to download the new page turner’s partial file.
Jeremiah scraped the bottom of his plastic cup with his spoon. “What’s she like?”
“She doesn’t read,” Daire said, pulling back from the computer, his voice dripping with disbelief.
“What?” Jeremiah asked, his spoon raised halfway between his mouth and the cup.
“It’s a notation in her file. She refuses to read out loud.”
“What good is a page turner that doesn’t read?” Jeremiah asked, setting his fruit cup down.
“This is ridiculous,” Daire grumbled, typing out another email to his uncle.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: New Page Turner
We can’t use a page turner that won’t read. She should be expelled for rejecting a core principal of our profession. What would we do with her? She can’t wander freely in the library. She might be a spy for a KQ bureau. Can I get a copy of her whole file?
Daire waited several minutes for a response while Jeremiah played with his food.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: New Page Turner
In that case she’ll be just as useful as you. We have to take her; this is a direct order from headquarters. I don’t care what you do with her, you’re the prefect page. She’s your responsibility. If you are so inept that you do not know what to do with one teenage girl you should rethink your position in the library hierarchy.
Daire exhaled and leaned back in his chair after reading the email to Jeremiah.
“This is a nightmare,” Jeremiah grumbled, flicking mushy grapes onto a napkin. “If she really is a spy and finds out about—“
“I know,” Daire said, staring at the new page turner’s profile. “We get to manage her, right? So let’s run her off. Shouldn’t be too hard, a page turner that doesn’t read out loud can hardly be considered a page turner at all.”
“What level is she?” Jeremiah asked, eating a tidbit of peach.
“Shelf.”
“A level three page turner that doesn’t read? How stupid do they think we are?”
Daire wryly studied the girl’s photograph. She was undeniably pretty with long, silky hair and big eyes—she was a perfect reflection of Jeremiah’s last four girlfriends in a different color. “Not as much as one would think,” he said, flicking his eyes to Jeremiah.
Their first day at their new school, the eldest Wishmore children—newly renamed McCellen children—were doing their best to play out their parts.
“This school is wonderful, isn’t it Rachel?” Nate asked with a winning smile as he sat down at an empty table.
“Absolutely big brother. We’re going to love it here!” Raven said, elegantly setting her salad down before seating herself.
“I’m so glad we could eat together,” Nate said, his voice holding the sweetness of a hundred cakes. “Even though I just want to laugh my head off at you.”
“And I just want to wring your scrawny neck,” Raven giggled, her voice charming and friendly.
The siblings met gazes as they settled into their seats, mutual disgust shared between them.
“I don’t understand, why do we have to be doting siblings this time?” Nate complained. “Normally Dad settles for peacefully co-existing, but this time our identity packets clearly state we have to gush over each other.”
Raven ripped open her packet of low-fat Italian dressing. “I think it’s because of Fox and the attack on our home. Together we pose more of a threat if we’re attacked again.”
“Oh, so I’m playing your bodyguard?”
“I beg your pardon, but if I recall correctly it was I who saved you several nights ago.”
“Whatever,” Nate said, sullenly hunching his shoulders. “What’s your impression of the school?”
“Clique-y and small. Pretty average as far as high schools go.”
“Yep, that’s what I thought too. It should be a cakewalk. We’ve been shuffled around the country in multiple identities, there’s no way this will be challenging.”
Raven speared a lettuce leaf and popped it in her mouth. It was bitter and wilted. The dressing did very little to disguise the taste. “The students seem to be overly concerned with Image and Popularity, though,” she said after swallowing.
Nate shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. This is just the first time we’ve had to concern ourselves with it,” he said while opening a carton of chocolate milk.
Raven watched him with envy before she opened her skim-milk and took a drink. She set it down, clearly unsatisfied.
“What, is Rachel a vegan?” Nate asked, taking a big bite of his cheeseburger.
“No, a health nut,” Raven grumbled before transforming her demeanor as a group of four seniors drew close their table.
“Tough break,” Nate said, his mouth full.
“McCellen, right?” one of the guys said, stopping in front of the table.
Nate hurriedly swallowed. “Yeah. I’m Adam. You’re in my…English class?”
“Yep. I’m Levi,” he said, flashing a smile at Raven.
Raven sweetly returned it as Nate said, “Oh, sorry. This is my little sister, Rachel.”
“Adam! Stop it!” Raven squealed as her older brother ruffled her hair. “Hi,” she said after successfully shoving Nate away. “Want to sit with us?”
“Sure,” Levi said, plopping down with a swiftness that made Raven suspect this was his original goal.
The other guys chose chairs around the circular table, the tallest of the group sat next to Nate in order to start campaigning for him to join the basketball team.
Raven ate another forkful of lettuce as she studied the group of boys. When Levi met her gaze she flashed him another smile and tilted her head. (A move copied straight out of one of the dozens of chick flicks Gram had prescribed in preparation for her role.)
Levi blushed and looked away as Raven leaned back in her chair in satisfaction. Maybe, just maybe, she could do this.
Raven daintily adjusted her backpack as she walked through the crosswalk, scowling at the Mercedes that honked at her as she finished crossing. The moment she reached the sidewalk the car screeched and flew down the street. Raven coughed from the fumes, waving the air in front of her face as continued on her way.
Raven worked at keeping a p
leasant smile on her face. Today she was dressed in a floral skirt with a black top and white jacket. She didn’t mind the skirt, it was still mild for October, but she did mind her high heeled shoes. Not only were they starting to pinch her feet, they kept her gait in check. Plus gym was a real pain in the butt since she had to haul extra socks with her.
The real kicker, though, was that Raven would be walking to Saint Cloud every day after school for work. Her shoes were going to kill her.
After approximately ten additional minutes of walking, Raven found the city block Saint Cloud occupied. She took a walk, circling the building’s lower level.
Saint Cloud was two stories. The first floor was a partially exposed basement area that held the library’s computer resources, conference rooms, staff rooms, and nonfiction books. The upper story held the library’s fiction books and the children’s section. There was a magnificent garden fenced in next to it, nestled against a back wall of the staff quarters.
Gazing at the walls, Raven constructed a mental image of the insides and the blue prints Gram made her memorize. Rave knew the exact location of every door and desk that was made public in the library blue prints. The locations of the magical sections of the library weren’t in the public domain, but beyond that shortfall Raven was arriving on the scene with perfect comprehension of the library’s innards.
The building’s architecture reminded Raven of a gothic cathedral. There were stone gargoyles, stain glass windows, and flying buttresses that supported the arching roof.
It was beautiful, just like the pictures Raven saw in her page turner training manuals and the identity packet Gram gave her. However, it struck Raven that the whole building seemed rather dark. Even though the sun shone on it, it was if the sunlight trickled down the building’s sides like water instead of sticking to the stone.
Raven made another loop around the library, stopping when she reached the back.
The main entries of the partially operational Saint Cloud were on the lower floor, near the computer area. The entrance Raven was about to go through was no longer in use because it led straight into the heart of the fiction section of the library, which was closed.
“This is my chance to see the fiction area, to see the books,” Raven said, fluffing her copper hair. “After this I’m exiled to the computer area with the rest of the page turners. This is probably my only chance. I’ve got to take it,” Raven said, grimly furrowing her carefully sculpted eyebrows before she started to walk up the stairs.
When Raven reached the top stair, only slightly out of breath, she reached forward and wrapped a hand around one of the giant, gold handles of the elaborate doors and pulled.
The door creaked open, groaning as though it had not been used in months. It opened into a small foyer. Raven stepped inside and again reached out to pull open the large door that would lead directly into Saint Cloud.
The second Raven’s perfectly manicured hand touched the cool, metal handle a giant church bell rang three times.
The tolls were steady and low pitched. Raven hesitated at the sound before pulling at the handle.
It didn’t budge.
Raven frowned and jiggled it, hoping it was stuck, not locked.
Nothing.
Raven released the door and took a step back, her shoulders slumping with defeat. “There goes that idea,” she said, turning to go.
There was an almost inaudible sound of tiny bells furiously jingling, and the locked door blew open so fast Raven barely had time to scramble out of the way. The door hinges shrieked and door hit the wall with a crack.
Raven stared at the entryway before poking her head inside the library. It was dark. No lights were on. The only source of illumination was the dim sunlight that fell from the skylights and stain glass windows.
It smelled clean, but the air was stale and heavy, as though it wasn’t often stirred.
Wooden furniture gleamed in the weak light. There were two huge, magnificent desks on either side of the foyer doors, and a few smaller workstations. Beyond the desk a sea of bookshelves glimmered and glittered, book spines sparkling in the dimness like jewels. The ceiling was covered in beautiful paintings that depicted fantastical scenes of the imagination. Support pillars were covered in elegant stonework and sculptures.
It was so beautiful it took Raven’s breath away. It was so lonely it broke her heart.
Holding her breath, Raven took a step inside the library. She reached behind her and gently pulled the foyer door shut. She had time to take two additional steps before the library’s magic reacted.
Wind hit Raven like a wall. She shut her eyes against it as it pulled on her clothes, hair, and backpack. When it lessened to a tickling breeze she cautiously opened one eye.
A sea of softly bobbling lights—fairies—orbited around Raven like a sparkling cyclone. They chattered at her in trill, incomprehensible voices, reaching out to stroke her hair or press their tiny hands against her face.
Raven’s jaw dropped when her gaze flickered past the fairies and she saw one of the wall sculptures peel off the wall. It was a lion that yawned before padding towards Raven and the fairies, his granite paws scraping the marble floor.
Several other lions, griffins, and gargoyles followed behind him, flexing stone muscles as they drew closer.
A noise overhead ripped Raven’s gaze away from the alarming behavior of the stonework, and Raven’s brain ceased functioning when she saw the ceiling.
Saint Cloud’s ceiling was covered in paintings—which was not unusual. The paintings moved ever so softly—also not unusual if they were painted by a Kingdom Quest artist. What caused Raven to lose control of all bodily functions was that these painted figures were starting to pop out of their portraits.
Four elf maidens literately flung themselves out of their picture, landing in front of Raven with soft feet and elegant bows. As they joined hands and ran around Raven in a linked circle, a painted dragons plunged his head out of his painting.
His neck bulged with muscles, and his head—which was bigger than a truck—loomed above Raven. His breath smelled of sulfur and ash as he blew on her, rumbling deep in his throat.
Bells rang, and wind whipped through the bookshelves, bringing endless whispers to Raven’s ears.
“All for one, and one for all!”
“Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs offer their compliments to professor Snape...And request that he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.”
“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.”
“A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have.”
Raven was sent to her knees by the barrage of whispers, the calls of the thousands of books that longed to be read.
Raven looked up to stare at the beautiful stain glass windows—the colored figures were moving. One depicted a prince and princess—who were dancing and twirling in front of a sea monster that slowly drifted through an ocean of blue glass.
A grubby gnome poked his head over a desk and whistled, waving merrily when he caught Raven’s eyes as books started falling off shelves behind him, pulled by invisible hands. A cloud of glittering butterflies fluttered behind the dirty gnome, their wings brighter than stars.
Raven took a deep breath, and a bundle of black feathers barraged her. They were softer than velvet and paper thin, but huge. One of the feathers was easily the length of Raven’s forearm. The feathers danced across Raven’s skin, tickling her as the dragon breathed on her, the elf maidens laughed, and the stone griffin and lions roared.
There was a trumpet, and the figures and creatures retreated. They left even faster than they came, returning to their paintings, walls, and their still positions in the windows. The fairies flew up, glowing dimmer and dimmer before they disappeared in the sunlight. The gnome ducked behind a desk with his butterflies as the last of the black feather
s were swept away by a wind.
Raven shook, awed and frightened out of her mind. Library magic did not act like that. It didn’t breathe life into its decorations, or personally greet library employees.
Something was terribly wrong with Saint Cloud.
Raven shook herself out of her stupor when she heard the sound of quick and confident footsteps.
“Hello,” a male voice called. “Hello? You’re the new page turner, right?” the speaker said as he navigated his way through the maze of bookshelves, his voice tight with irritation. “Sorry for the lack of official greeting, but I thought it was obvious that our operational doors were downstairs. The doors here are locked, if you broke in—,” the speaker turned the corner, strolling into eyesight, and cut off his words with a gurgle.
Raven pushed herself to her feet, offering a shy smile as she mentally whipped through memorized profiles and pictures. She held back a satisfied nod when she recognized the guy as Jeremiah Tanner. He was Saint Cloud’s second—the page turner behind the prefect in terms of power—and Raven’s target.
Jeremiah stared at her with wide blue eyes that were unarmingly innocent—even though Raven was sure he had pressed his advantage with those eyes on a number of girls. His mouth gaped and he sputtered incoherently. “You, you, you are…”
Raven smiled and carefully crossed the distance between them. “Rachel McCellen,” she said, offering him her hand. “Most of my friends call me Ray, or Ray-Ray,” she winked.
Her words seemed to catapult Jeremiah back into lucidity. “A pleasure, Ray,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it rather than shaking it as Raven had intended. “I am Jeremiah Tanner, I’m the second here at Saint Cloud,” he said with a smarmy smile.
Raven kept her smile glued in place when she heard a set of jogging footsteps hurrying towards them.
“On behalf of the staff here at Saint Cloud, allow me to—AHHHH,” the blond said, yelping like a small dog when another teenager materialized at his side and yanked on his ear. “Ow, ow, OW! Daire let go!”