by Casey White
Again, she didn’t reply. That didn’t seem like a good sign. She was still mad at him?
Whatever. He clamped down on the twinge of unease building in his chest, focusing in on the first pages of the book.
Madis
That was all—no last name. “Odd,” Daniel whispered, frowning. His eyes dropped to the next line. It was smaller, and looked as hand-scripted as the rest, but somehow, the two words there carried a reverence he couldn’t quite place.
The Rekindler
“Rekindler?” Daniel murmured, his frown deepening. “Is that some sort of title?” He flipped through the first pages, but the entries there were full of strange people and strange places, things that seemed to have little or nothing to do with the task at hand.
Biting back a hiss, he closed the book again, sliding it back into its slot on the shelf. “That’s the first one,” he said, more to steady himself than anything. “Then let’s…”
Shuffling sideways, his hand drifted to the last one—and the thinnest. That seemed like a good guess. He drew it out, ignoring the screech of the chain, and started to paw through.
Martin was supposed to handle the recruitment. He assured me he could handle it. We need to find new scholars to help us continue the research efforts, on top of new demis to keep it away from everyone else’s hands. We need a proper hider soon, too, or else the primes are going to eat us alive. I shouldn’t have left it to him. He’s too young. I should’ve-
Journal entries. Daniel let a sigh hiss out between his teeth, turning through the pages. Just like Indira’s book, and the others he’d flipped through. There was no telling if they’d ever actually written these entries, or if Alexandria had simply chosen this format to condense the information out of their minds. It didn’t really matter in the end, he supposed.
But he wasn’t interested in their recruitment problems, either. Grabbing chunks of the pages, he started flipping faster, searching for anything that looked familiar.
Rickard has progressed well over the last year. I’ve brought him into the inner circle. Karin says I should give him a relic, make him a proper demi, but I can’t help but feel that’s a mistake. This body isn’t as young as it once was. It’s time I started to think about the next inheritance, and a man like Rickard is passionate. Driven. He’ll-
No. His heart had leapt at the glimpse of the name, but it wasn’t what he needed. His fingers turned to the next delicate page, returning to the search. The sound of paper brushing against paper filled his ears, overloud in the eerie quiet of the filthy room.
Another week with no forward progress. I know I’m not wrong in this. She’s wily, but I’m no fool either. Her people have dwelled in the northeast as long as these states have existed. If I can find one of her goons, I can follow the trail right back to her. If we could secure a blood demi for our studies, it would change everything. Absolutely everything. Such a treasure trove of information...but she’s slippery. Every time I think we’re closing on her underlings, she-
No. Another useless mess of words. Daniel scowled, shaking his head, and flipped faster. The pages flew, dangerously close to tearing, until-
There. He grabbed hold before the pages could flop past and wipe away what he’d seen. There.
That Indira woman called again.
A smile spread across Daniel’s face, grim and ruthless. He’d found it.
Settling himself lower and pulling the book into his arms, he leaned over the words.
I thought I’d been firm enough after our last conversation, but she is proving to be nothing if not persistent. Again, she opened with stories about her mythical Library. Ridiculous. She contacts me now, when my hunt is so close to reaching fruition? It’s a distraction. She needs help, she says. She wants to mend the rift between her renegades and our faction, she says.
I will not be so easily fooled. I’ve walked that road before. My past days were wasted—squandered—by chasing after our idiot brethren and that creation. Now, they would have me rejoin the search? And they ask for our resources in their idiotic venture?
No. They left us behind, those centuries past. The Booklenders chose their own path, and it isn’t the responsibility of the ones they abandoned to clean up their mess now. Even now, I cannot lie. My heart leaps just a little at the thought that it might be within reach again. The old temptations are reborn so easily.
But I am older than I was back then, and wiser. They claim to have a lead on the current Librarian? Ridiculous. They’re fools, and a fool’s advice is worth nothing at all. Even if they knew something, even if by some chance of fate they happened across a true opportunity, the Librarian would never be caught so easily. They would simply vanish, disappearing again, and all of the effort I expended in the chasing would be squandered.
We’ve already committed to our own plans. I won’t allow us to become distracted, for our focus to be fractured in too many directions to be meaningful. Only this past month, I’ve located someone I’m sure is in the faceless bitch’s employ. I can’t turn back now.
Rickard disagrees, I think. He’s been polite, but unusually firm on the subject. Stubbornness is a good quality, and admirable in the heir, but this matter isn’t for him to decide. He has neither the knowledge nor the experience to see the complete picture. I can’t allow him to become distracted with the legends of prior years. He’s a curious man. That’s why I made him the heir, after all. If I were to tell him the truth, he would be consumed by it, and I need his mind back on matters of actual importance.
The only way to gain such experience is to live it, and if he is curious, I must crush that curiosity. In a decade or two, when the grimoire becomes his, he can have the truth, along with my wisdom to properly interpret it.
Until then, I’ve assigned him to look into the Booklenders’ request, and given him a small detachment. Let him learn the truth of his own folly, while I turn my eyes to the Legion, as is proper.
He will understand better once this is past. Of this, I am sure.
That was it. The handwritten entries came to an end—and when Daniel turned the page, he found only blank paper.
Was that all Alexandria knew on the matter? Daniel leaned back on his heels, his mind racing. This Madis fellow knew about the Library. He hadn’t been surprised, by either Alexandria or by Indira. If anything, he seemed annoyed. By her request?
Maybe he could use that.
Even as the journal entries circled in his thoughts, though, a deeper question rose up beneath them. The book was blank—but they were in the middle of a bloodbath with these demis, that Daniel could only assume had come from Rickard’s detachment. Had Rickard not called home to his superior?
Or was it that Alexandria simply didn’t know what had happened since he fell asleep? He tightened his grip on the journal, a sheen of sweat soaking through his palms. He’d always assumed Alexandria was all-knowing, all-seeing.
Was this a blind spot?
Daniel shook his head, his expression hardening, and put the Madis book back on the shelf. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let himself start to doubt.
He’d read Indira’s book, and Olivia’s, and those of their attackers. With Madis’s out of the way, he had only one text left.
Leaning against the bookshelf, he lifted the book labeled Rickard. This time, there was no messing around with checking through the front contents. He just turned the book over, heading straight to the back pages, and flipped through until at last, he saw the name he was looking for.
Taking a deep breath, Daniel started to read again.
That Booklender lady called again. Miss Indira, I think. That’s the third time in as many days, and she only talks to Madis.
He won’t tell me much about what she says. And it’s not that he’s angry with her. He just sounds...disinterested. As though she’s bothering him, each and every time. But from the little I’ve been able to glean from old records and the bits he lets on…I can’t help myself. The splinter faction, gone for so
many years? Chasing after a focus that carries all of humanity’s learnings and wisdom within it?
I’m curious.
Madis has been firm. We’re not getting involved. And on a surface level, I can see where he’s coming from. Truly. He’s responsible for looking after the whole guild, and it would be absurd to abandon everything we’ve been working for over the last decade. He says she’s nothing but a desperate fool, that the legends she spouts are myth and nothing else.
Is that true, though? I know that I shouldn’t doubt him—and I don’t doubt him, not really—but at the same time...a focus that passes itself down from hand to hand, owner to owner, but remains constant in the gifts it bestows? Such a thing is all but unheard of, and would seem to put this focus among a select category. It puts this library of theirs right alongside Madis’s own grimoire.
A blood focus. One like we’ve been searching for for so long. I’m certain of it.
But when I asked Madis, when I suggested the possibility, he laughed. He told me that this library focus doesn’t even exist. He shrugged me off.
Madis is wise. I know that. One does not become the Rekindler by accident, and ignorance is utterly impossible after inheriting. So it’s not that I don’t trust that he has a plan. I just...do not understand how he could ignore the possibility of a blood demi passing so close at hand.
So I pressed him. Perhaps I was too forward, but I couldn’t allow this opportunity to slip away. The Bookbinders have worked for too long to miss such a chance. I insisted that we take a serious look at Miss Indira’s information.
And now Madis has assigned me to the task.
I think he intended it as a slight. A punishment, of sorts. Sort of a do-it-yourself message. So be it. If he’s giving me the go-ahead, I’ll use it. He might laugh at me now, but hell. If I manage to bring a blood demi back to the compound before he’s even started to formulate his own plans, that laughter won’t last long.
Miss Indira gave me the addresses for this blood demi’s companions. They’re in an area filled with mundanes, the finders say. Not a demi in sight. There’s some travel involved, but if we can move quickly, the region’s primes won’t even realize we were there.
I’ll show him, and I’ll get to the bottom of this. We’ll have the future we deserve.
By the time he finished reading, whatever confidence Daniel had possessed had long since turned to ash. He swallowed hard, staring down at the words, then slowly, carefully, closed the book.
A blood demi. Him? And they were saying Alexandria was one of these focuses, just like Leon had?
That didn’t make any sense. He’d read the manual that Leon was still poring over, and while there were similarities, the differences were too pointed to be mistaken. And he wasn’t anywhere on the shelves in this horrible, horrible room.
He’d started to be hopeful, for the fact that this Madis had so little interest in him. Rickard’s entries had crushed that hope into dust.
And now, he was left caught between them, just a pawn for whatever goals the two of them had.
A hand brushed his shoulder. He jumped.
“Hey,” Leon said. “You good?”
Daniel blinked furiously, licking his lips. “Y-Yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You just look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”
The book hung heavy in his hands. Daniel nodded, drawing it closer to him. “...Right. Sorry.”
Leon sighed. “What’d I just say?”
This time, Daniel couldn’t quite bring himself to respond. The quiet dragged out, growing more uncomfortable by the second, until finally, Leon cleared his throat. “Everything okay?” he said, more softly.
“...Yeah,” Daniel said, straightening a fraction of an inch. “I was just...learning about the people. The ones attacking us.”
“...And?”
“I think...I don’t know,” Daniel mumbled. “They’re connected to Indira’s people, like Olivia said. They’re mages. They’re looking for special mages, and for some reason they think I’m one of them.”
“Oh,” Leon said. “Crap.”
Daniel snorted, unable to stop himself, and a heartbeat later, Leon joined in. It wasn’t funny. No part of it was funny. But right then, in that blood-soaked room with mages and murderers all around them, it was hilarious.
Finally, when their laughter started to die away, Daniel shook his head. “They’re arguing,” he said, and his voice was steadier. “The leader and his lieutenant. Madis and Rickard.” His smile went crooked. “There’s some bickering in the household about how to handle Indira’s request.”
“Maybe we can use that somehow,” Leon said, his eyes sparkling.
Daniel could only chuckle, watching him. “That’s what I thought, too. It’s pretty much all I’ve got.”
“Maybe that’s enough.” Leon’s expression didn’t falter. “We’ll make it through. We’ll find a way.”
Yes, they would. Daniel held Leon’s stare for a moment, still smiling faintly, and then turned away, loosening his hold on the Rickard book.
It fit back into the empty space on the shelf as though Alexandria had crafted it special for the biography. He let his fingers rest on the spine for a moment, memorizing the way the cover looked. Fixing each and every word of the journal entries in his mind.
“Are you good?” he said, then, glancing back over to where Leon waited. “I’m starting to think I’ve done all I can here.”
“Thank god,” Leon said, deflating. “I thought you’d never ask. If I have to read this damn book one more time, I’m going to puke.”
“You could have said something,” Daniel said, smothering a smile. “And please don’t puke on the books.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Leon said, setting the book down on top of the shelf. “That’s all I’m saying. How do we-”
He stopped dead mid-sentence. He’d seen it too, then—the light starting to reflect off the books around them, glowing from beneath his skin.
Daniel’s breath caught in his chest. His skin was glowing, too. Alexandria had never sent him out quite like this before. His pulse quickened, pulsing in his veins.
Thank you, he willed, closing his eyes against the glare. I know you didn’t want any of this. I know I’m breaking all the rules. Thank you.
A hand brushed against his. Leon. He didn’t pull away, letting Leon lace his fingers with Daniel’s. They clung to each other, holding tight as the world started to spin.
I’ll be back, he whispered silently, feeling the ground start to give way beneath his feet. Keep the place warm for me.
The glow wrapped around them surged, blinding even through his eyelids. Hand in hand, they let the Library vanish into white.
- Chapter Twenty-Two -
Movement.
Something soft pressed against his back. His head. Something warm, that gave way as he bounced along. Because he was moving, rocking back and forth ever so gently.
Somewhere nearby, voices talked, murmuring in low voices far beyond his ability to make out. His thoughts were a foggy blur, slowly ascending through the void and back toward reality.
A squeak. A lurch. The rocking came to a stop—and the sound of voices around him crescendoed.
Daniel twitched. As though remembering it existed, his leg twinged, igniting in a hundred fires spreading up toward his side. He groaned, shifting.
A hand pressed against his shoulder. “Y-You’re finally awake. Good.” A woman, her soft voice tight with anxiety. “Try not to move, okay?”
“Well, that makes it easier,” someone rumbled from ahead of him. It was getting easier and easier to make out the words as the fog cleared. “I was thinking we’d have to carry them.”
The warmth pressing against his head shifted, and he heard someone yawn. Leon.
Right. They were...in Maya’s car. The doors to his mental palace opened like they had so many times before. When keeping a relationship alive meant remembering details across
months or years jammed into the middle of his life, well. He’d gotten good at finding ways to preserve them.
And he’d only been gone for a handful of hours. Maybe a day. He could remember it all—going to find his friends. The house. The park. And…
His legs shifted. Someone was moving. The motion sent daggers of agony through his calf, and he hissed, tensing.
“Hey,” Leon snapped. “Don’t-”
“I’m sorry,” a woman whispered. “I’m trying.”
Olivia.
The first sparks of hope smothered to cinders. Right. Olivia was here. He...could remember that, too.
Fighting against eyelids that felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, Daniel opened his eyes.
Figures moved around the windows of the car. James. And Maya. He stiffened, trying to sit up. Couldn’t be lying around. Had to pull himself together, before-
“Take it slow,” Leon said. His fingers dug into Daniel’s shoulder. “You’re hurt still.”
The door opened before Daniel could retort. He winced, blinking away the heavy, hot sunlight. He’d charged over to Leon’s house at the crack of dawn, and most of their escape had taken place in the quiet murk of morning, but now...now, the sun hung high overhead, filling the air around them with warmth. He couldn’t quite keep the confusion from his expression.
“W-Where are we?” Leon mumbled, and Daniel could see him scrubbing at his eyes. “How long were we-”
“I took us as far as I could,” Maya said, with an apologetic look toward Daniel. “We started to think that, uh.”
“You’re losing a lot of blood,” James muttered, when she stopped. His tone was brusque, but lacked the abrasive edge it so often had. “Kinda need to take care of that, we thought.”
“It’s been a few hours, though,” Maya said with a tiny, hesitant smile and a shrug. “We should be good.”
“I haven’t seen them following,” Olivia whispered.