by Casey White
Oh, Daniel didn’t miss the looks they shot her way. “Right,” Maya said. “Anyway. Um. We...We have a room. Can you walk, mister Owl?”
James turned away, wrinkling his nose. “I’m not carrying him.” His skin was pale, though, inching toward green.
Daniel fought down a laugh. Have a soft stomach, did he? Well...he glanced down, eyeing the fabric that had been hastily wrapped around his leg while he slept. A sweater, it looked like—or it had been a sweater at one point. There was rather too much blood soaked through the fabric to ever fulfill that role again. “I’m fine,” he rasped, squirming toward the open door. “I-I’ll-”
“Help him out, would you?” Leon said, vanishing from the other side of the door. “Don’t just stand there.”
Maya rolled her eyes, but pulled Olivia out of the way, reaching toward Owl a moment later. Olivia skittered to the side, her arms poised defensively in front of her chest. Her eyes were distant, unfocused.
That would be a problem. He couldn’t afford for any of them to panic—least of all the woman who had ins with their enemies. She needed to keep her head screwed on straight.
Trying to tell her that would get them nowhere, he knew. And so he let Leon and Maya sandwich him between them, hauling him upright.
As they stumbled forward, Daniel glanced around at last. It had to be at least noon, if not later, and...his eyes scanned across empty asphalt, broken-down concrete bollards, and the saddest-looking motel he’d ever seen. Shingles hung from the corners of the eaves. Cobwebs filled the cracks between the bricks—cracks that were made all the larger by the mortar that seemed perilously sparse.
Something jingled around his neck. Daniel’s mind went blank. What? That sounded like-
When his eyes dropped, falling to his chest, he saw a narrow golden chain bouncing with every lurch.
A tiny pendant of a book swayed at its end.
Alexandria. He stared at the necklace, confused. The necklace only appeared when he asked for it, which he certainly hadn’t done. Why? Why was it here now, then?
When he narrowed his eyes, willing it away, the smooth golden metal of its surface only twinkled merrily in the flickering light. It should have turned to dust at a thought. Again, it hadn’t.
He was just tired. That was all. Once he rested, he could-
Dry, rusted hinges creaked, bringing his thoughts to a stop. Ahead of them, James pushed a door to one of the rooms open, stepping inside. His expression went carefully blank after that, but not before Daniel saw his nose wrinkle. “Seriously?” he mumbled.
“Get out of the way,” Maya said. With Daniel’s arm around her shoulders and her lips all but up against his ear, the words were deafening.
James trudged out of the way, though, making his way deeper into the motel room. Unhappily.
When he lumbered across the threshold, fighting against a leg that didn’t seem to want to listen to him, Daniel...realized he couldn’t blame James.
The spiders had been every bit as industrious inside as out. This time, their handiwork served to adorn the sort of peeling, green-and-orange wallpaper that had been safely out of fashion four decades prior. Another step confirmed that it’d been equally long since the carpet had heard the roar of a vacuum.
There was a bed, though, however much the covers looked like someone had eaten a three-course meal off them. “Come on,” Maya said, dragging Daniel toward it. “Lift, Leon.”
“Are you kidding me?” Leon hissed through clenched teeth. “We- We want to help him heal, not give him hepatitis.”
“Just shut up and walk.”
The mattress creaked beneath Daniel as they dropped him onto it. The springs groaned, protesting his weight, and for a moment he thought they might snap entirely.
“Sorry,” Maya mumbled. “Look, this was the only place I could find, okay?”
“Really?” James said. “This was the only one?”
“W-Well, the only place I could find that wouldn’t ask why we’re hauling around a man covered in blood, okay?” Maya snapped. Her eyes darted over to meet Daniel’s. “I...I already paid for the night. We can...um. We’ll-”
“Thanks,” he said, pasting a smile back onto his face. “We’ll figure it out.”
She sucked in a breth of air, like she was about to continue, but deflated, nodding. “Yeah. Right.”
“He’s still bleeding,” James remarked, leaning on the wall. “Uh...Not to be that guy. But should we-”
“Oh,” Leon said, hurrying closer. “Right. I know- We looked it up. We should, uh. Clean the wound, first. And then-”
“I’ll get some towels,” Olivia mumbled, turning toward the bathroom as though it was all she could see. “They...They’re probably clean. I can-”
“Sit,” Daniel said. He wanted to lean back, sinking into the definitely-bedbug-infested comforter, and let them look after things.
He just couldn’t afford to do that.
Her eyes widened fractionally, locked onto his. Just like Maya, she crumpled, her expression darkening. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, I guess.”
Reversing course, Olivia trudged back to the side of the bed. She glanced at the single, cigarette-burned chair in the room, weighing the option, but dropped to the carpet instead. That was all—no protests, no arguments, no trying to start the conversation ahead of him. She just sat and waited.
“U-Uh. Well.” Maya backpedaled, clasping her hands behind her legs, and Daniel couldn’t bring himself to blame her. Just like that, the mood in the room had shifted from awkward to oppressive. “I’m going to- I’ll get the towels, then, shall I?”
“I’ll help,” James grunted, appearing at her side fast enough the big man hardly appeared to move. So eager, Daniel thought with a wry smile. He’d never known James was such a helpful man.
Just as quickly as the two of them could shuffle across the cramped, greasy motel room, they vanished into the bathroom.
And now...now he had to try and figure out how to manage this. Daniel bowed his head, kneading at the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to get the better of the headache he had blossoming. “So. Let’s-”
“Here!” he heard someone call. Maya’s hand appeared from around the door, a wadded-up washcloth clutched in it. “Um- For you!”
Daniel shifted, squirming back to an upright. Leon pushed him back against the pillows. “Why do you think you’re allowed to work?” Daniel heard him say, and watched him stand.
Maya’s hand vanished back into the bathroom after Leon took the cloth—and Daniel heard the door click shut. Not taking any chances, then.
His amusement at the pair of them disappeared behind a flood of pain as his leg reignited. “Sorry,” Leon mumbled. “Bear with me.”
Daniel glanced down, watching through watering eyes as Leon mopped gently around the edges of...his gut churned. The edges of the wound. Just a tiny, shredded section of flesh, starting to seep red again at the fresh return of moisture.
“If you can talk while I’m doing this, feel free,” Leon said, looking up for long enough to glare at Daniel. “But I’m not waiting. I was serious, before. No rotting limbs.”
Daniel watched Olivia look between him and Leon, her eyes narrowing with stark confusion, but only shorted. “Fine,” he said.
And then he turned to her.
She flinched, twitching away under the force of his stare. “Owl. L-Look. I-”
“I need to know what you know,” Daniel said quietly. “All of it. No more secrets.”
“I wasn’t- I never wanted to-”
“Olivia.” He spat the word out, watching as she stilled again. “You’ve been true to your word since this started. And I appreciate you helping me. But-”
“I know,” she whispered. Her eyes flicked up, locking onto his. “I’m not holding anything back. I understand why you can’t trust me. I’ll…”
She took a deep breath, running a hand through the brown waterfall of her hair as if to steady herself. Just like that, Danie
l watched her start to come together. She still looked shellshocked, and he wouldn’t trust a strong breeze not to knock her over, but a bit of her old, cocky confidence started to creep back in.
And then she folded her hands in her lap, sitting up straight.
“I’m here to help,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “What’s going on...I can’t go along with it. I can’t let her ruin the Booklenders.” Her eyes fell again. “I can’t let her hurt anyone. It’s not right.”
The door creaked. James crept out of the bathroom, a mess of towels clutched in his arms. He didn’t look at any of them as he slipped toward Daniel, depositing them on the bed. Turning away, he-
“Can you cut them into strips?” Daniel said.
James froze. Slowly, painfully slowly, he glanced to Daniel. “Fine,” he muttered, deflating.
“Big baby,” Leon said with a snort, still wiping the gunshot wound clean. Already, Daniel could see bare skin underneath the film of red-brown staining.
“Okay,” Daniel said, forcing himself to look back to Olivia. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I just- I need to know. Everything.”
She forced a smile, her eyes dark and unhappy even as her lips curled up. “I suppose.” Her fingers tightened, her chin rising stubbornly. “Where should I start?”
Daniel leaned forward, grimacing. He took the wad of washcloths, taking a deep breath, and stared down at the wound in his leg.
This was going to hurt. It already hurt, in fact. But it was about to get worse.
The washcloths were cheap, already worn down to the threads and with terrycloth fringes besides. It’d make a mess of the injury, he knew. He’d be digging it all back out of the gash once this was over. But he didn’t have a better alternative.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed the fresh cloth against the wound—and then turned back to Olivia, his eyes watering. “F-From the start,” he whispered. “I need everything. I need to know what’s going on, damn it.”
“The beginning,” Olivia whispered, rising to pace the floor. “Right. Yeah.”
“Olivia-”
“Indira was upset,” Olivia said, spinning back to face him. “She felt like you’d shut the door in her face. Closed her off from everything. Everything.”
“We already talked about-”
“And when she didn’t feel like she had anywhere else to turn, she went to...them.” Olivia shook her head, her eyes darkening. “She had...old records. A safe, hidden in her office. One I’d never seen before. With...contact information.”
“For the mages,” Daniel said. His leg burned. He kept pushing down against the wound, squeezing it tighter and tighter. Had to stop the bleeding—and more importantly, he had to get himself back to hobbling. He couldn’t afford to be dead weight here.
Olivia hesitated, but nodded begrudgingly. “After a fashion,” she whispered. “It took some digging. The records were...outdated. I had to-” She shook her head again. “It doesn’t matter. I found the number she was looking for, and then Indira-”
“Contacted their leader,” Daniel said heavily.
“Right.” Olivia swallowed. “A man named Madis. Owl, his name, the records...That name, it just kept showing up. No matter where I looked, no matter how old the documents. Madis, Madis, Madis. It couldn’t possibly be the same person, but-”
“It’s not important,” Daniel said, jerking his head to the side. He was curious, but something in him screamed to change the subject. He needed to contain this, and that meant limiting the number of people who knew about magic. And out of all the people he knew, Olivia was damn near the last one he wanted to have sensitive information.
But...he filed the detail away, sliding it onto its mental shelf—right alongside his memories of that blood-soaked room in Alexandria’s basement.
“She called them,” he said instead, inclining his head a fraction of an inch.
Olivia stiffened. He smiled thinly. She’d gotten the hint—Get back on topic.
“It took a while,” she said. Her fingers laced together in front of her, squeezing tightly. “They...They didn’t seem eager. But after a few weeks, I was contacted. By them.”
“By this Madis asshole?” Leon said. He strode toward Daniel, crouching beside the bed. “Here,” he murmured, more quietly. “Let me help.”
Daniel let him take the strips of fabric gratefully, leaning back onto his elbows. Every wrap and squeeze burned, and sitting forward to do it himself put even more pressure on the injury. His eyes stayed glued to Olivia, his lips tight.
Olivia opened her mouth, but hesitated. “No,” she said. “By someone else. He called himself Rickard, said he was a representative for the Bookbinders.”
“Right,” Daniel whispered. That second book flashed before his eyes. “Right, that makes sense.”
“It does?” Olivia said, starting to laugh. The sound was far from amused. “What part of this makes sense? We’re the Booklenders, not the- not the damn…”
When she trailed off, drooping, Leon shot an irritated look her way. “Stop freaking out and just explain,” he snapped.
“Whatever,” she mumbled. “It’s...I don’t...I looked. In the records. There were early communications included. Ancient. Called us some sort of splinter group.” Her eyes flicked up. “The Booklenders.”
“And the Bookbinders are the parent organization.” There was no question in the words—he’d read the books himself. He didn’t understand all of it yet, but with every word she said, the pieces were starting to fall into place.
Sure enough, Olivia nodded, swallowing again. “They left, ages ago. Centuries. We stayed behind.” Her thumbs were in constant motion, stroking over each other again and agian. “This Rickard fellow...he asked me some questions.”
“About what?” Daniel said, leaning forward again. Leon pushed him back to the pillows.
“About you,” Olivia said, holding his gaze. “And about your Alexandria. About what I remembered. It was like...he was looking for something. A hint. A clue.”
“Proof,” Daniel echoed.
“Sure, but of what?” Olivia burst out. “I don’t- Indira never said anything about-”
“Then what?” Daniel said, hardening his stare. “Stay on topic, Olivia.”
As quickly as she’d spoken, Olivia deflated. “R-Right. Sorry.” Her shoulders rose as she took a deep, long breath. “After a while, his questions...stopped. And then he told me a date. Told me to make arrangements for him and his crew.” She spat the last word, her eyes narrowing derisively. “They were coming from- abroad. I don’t know exactly where. They didn’t say. So I made the arrangements, put them up in a guild house.” Her shoulders drooped. “They arrived two weeks ago.”
“Rickard and his mages.” Daniel flinched, shrinking back as Leon pulled the binding around his leg tight. The soft touch of his hand brushed against Daniel’s leg, a tiny apology.
“Yeah.” Olivia’s gaze fell to the horrible, worn-down carpeting. “Indira had me in the house. Looking after them. They were...planning.”
“And?” Daniel said. He balled up his fists, every muscle in his body tensing against the incessant pain in his leg. “What are they here to do, exactly? If we know their plans, we might be able to get ahead of them.”
“It’s not anything surprising,” Olivia whispered. “You already know it.”
“Olivia.”
“They’re here for you,” she said, twitching as his voice cracked across the room. “They were going to use your friends as information, like I told you.” Her eyes dropped again, her shoulders hitching higher. “And as bait.”
“Lovely people,” Leon muttered.
Daniel scowled. “And you-”
“They started bringing guns into the house,” Olivia cried. “And- And gear, and rope, and a bunch of vials of something. I didn’t- I never signed up for that. And so when I saw it-”
“You called me.”
Olivia’s head bobbed in a nod. “W-We shouldn’t...We’re seekers of knowledge. No
t murderers.”
The urge to grind his teeth together grew stronger by the second. “And?”
Olivia blinked, then looked up. “And? And, what?”
“I knew all of that already,” he said. “What can you tell me that’ll be useful? What powers do they have? What will they do next? Where are they-”
“T-They’re not all mages,” Olivia stammered. “The people Rickard brought. I got that much. They’re…” She waved a hand, fighting to find the words. “Some of them are non-magic members of their organization. And then Indira sent some of our people to help their people, and-”
“The mages,” Daniel said, slowly but firmly. “What are we working with, here?”
“Right,” Olivia said. Her expression hardened fractionally. “There’s...There were a few. They didn’t mix with the other Bookbinders. Stayed apart, kind of.”
This time, Daniel waited. He could see her chewing on whatever she wanted to say, rolling it around and around on her tongue.
“You’ve seen them already,” she said at last. “Cyril. He was...He was the closest to them. To that Rickard fellow. I got the impression he’d been in the Bookbinders a while, but…” She shrugged. “I don’t think he really wanted to come.”
“What would-”
“He was at the core of their operations,” Olivia said. “Rickard seemed...cautious. They all did.”
“They didn’t seem cautious when they were trying to murder us,” Leon muttered, tightening a knot around the bandages.
“I...yeah,” Olivia said. “I know. But they don’t want to make this public, y’know?”
“Neither do we,” Daniel said.
She nodded. “Right. Cyril’s powers help...keep things private.”
Daniel leaned back, pursing his lips. The golden line of Cyril’s barrier gleamed in his mind. “He’s the one who cast that shield?”
“That’s him.” Olivia returned to her pacing. “As long as he’s got his shield up...people stay away. People don’t notice.”
“So they need to have him in place before they can act freely.” Daniel smiled, and for the first time since he’d woken up, the expression felt genuine. “We can use that. Maybe we can-”