by J C Gilbert
It was kind of my fault too.
If I hadn't distracted it from its oak-related mission, then it wouldn't have let its guard down.
The front of the house was on the next road over. I made careful observations of its steep black roofing and white bordered windows and hurried around to find the house that matched. It didn't take me long.
I hesitated on the side of the road. There was a car in the driveway. This definitely meant someone was home.
There was nothing else for it. I crept as inconspicuously as I could along the fence line and into the backyard. It was quite a well-off street, and this family had a swimming pool. A vision of the fairy drowning at the bottom of the pool flashed before my mind's eye. I made a quick visual sweep of the watery depths.
Nothing there.
Then the cat let out the most bizarre and agonized meow I had ever heard. It was sitting expectantly at the house’s back door with the fairy unmoving at its feet.
It meowed again.
There was noise within the house. The cat had summoned its master. There wasn't much time. I ran for the cat as fast as I could. It looked up at me, startled for a moment, and then bolted, leaving its trophy behind. I picked up the fairy, holding it in my hands. It was pretty bloodied, but still breathing.
There was another sound from inside the house, this time right behind the door. I ran for the side of the house, out of sight. If I had been a moment slower then I would have been caught.
“Nothing. The damn cat seems to have brought us another present. It's gone through,” said a man's voice.
When I was out on the street, I looked at the fairy more closely. I would have to take it to The Library now and get it back to its people. I was no nurse, and I was fairly sure that this would be beyond the expertise of most vets.
The problem was that my bag with my book was back in history class and I was not. Mr. Stewart would definitely be wondering where I was now. A pang of anxiety rocketed through me as I wondered if history class was still actually going. I looked at my watch. There was still time left of the class. I just needed to find some way of getting the injured fairy inside unnoticed. Easy, right?
Moments later I was walking in through the school gate, my sweater wrapped around the fairy, the wind blowing in my face, goosebumps creeping up my arms.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“We missed you,” said Mr. Stewart.
“Me too,” I said, fumbling in my awkwardness. The class tittered at this apparent display of anti-authoritarianism.
“Alright, sit down.”
I sat down at my desk, carefully holding the precious bundle on my lap. Now what was I supposed to do?
A quiet groan came from within my sweater’s folds. I froze, looking about to see if anyone else had heard it. The poor thing was waking up. I had to get to The Library as soon as possible. As quietly as I could, I opened my bag. I would need to take some things out if I was to conceal the fairy properly.
That's when I noticed that my book was gone. My copy of Alice had disappeared.
My mind started to race. I looked suspiciously at the students that sat nearest my desk. None of them seemed to be the swiping type.
Did I even bring it to school?
I couldn't remember, but it was now more urgent than ever that I find it. Time seemed to stand still as I waited for class to be over. This wasn't my last class for the day, but I had no other choice. My book was probably just still at home. I needed to get there, and I needed to get there soon, or this creature would die bundled in my favorite sweater.
The bell rang.
I got up as quickly as I could and slung my bag awkwardly over my shoulder.
“Alexandria,” said Mr. Stewart just as I was walking through the door. I should have kept going. I turned around instinctively.
“Is everything OK?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“No your not,” he said urgently and coming forward, “you’re bleeding.”
I looked down at my hands. Fairy blood was smeared where I had picked it up. I was so worried about getting the fairy back that I had forgotten to wipe the blood off.
“Oh, shoot,” I said trying to appear shocked. “I was afraid this would happen. I gotta go.”
“By all means, yes, go,” he said, stumbling over his words, “I hope it all turns out,” he added.
It wasn't a long walk home, but it was longer than I would have liked. In my frazzled imagination, every car that passed was potentially one of my parents or some friend of the family ready to pull over and wonder at me being out of school. I could feel my whole body tense up as the cars approached and relax when they passed.
At last, I was home. I opened the door and ran upstairs. Mom wouldn't be home until Jonny had finished school. I had ample time to get into The Library, return the fairy, and be back in time to clean up.
The stairs thudded as I ran to my room.
I lay the fairy out on the bed and went to grab my book from my side table. But it wasn't there. I looked at the bookshelf, and it wasn't there either. It wasn't by my desk, it wasn't on the floor. I turned the room upside down trying to find it, but it simply wasn't there.
Had I brought it to school after all? I rechecked my bag. Nothing there.
Time was running out for my visitor.
I had no choice but to try and help it myself. I ran to the bathroom cupboard and grabbed everything that looked like it might be useful. I soaked a flannel in warm water and ran back to my bedroom. I turned on the light and examined my patient.
I really had no idea what I was looking at. Delicately, I wiped away the dried blood. The fairy was tossing and turning in its unconscious state. There appeared to be a small puncture wound in its abdomen and a series of wounds in one of its legs. The abdominal puncture scared me. I didn't know much about human anatomy, but if fairies were anything like people, then there were lots of important bits in that area. All I could do was clean up the wound and bind it best I could.
“Sorry,” I said as I wiped the injuries down with an antiseptic wipe. The fairy flinched. I wrapped a bandage around its midsection and used pieces of plaster tape on the cuts on its leg. By the time I was done the fairy looked like it was made up more of household medical supplies than organic matter.
I cleared away the rest of the bandages and the first aid kit, trying to make it look like it had never been touched in the first place. The last thing I needed was for Mom to be asking questions about who had been into her supplies. Then I washed up my hands and put my sweater in the washing machine. With any luck, it would be done before Mom got home.
With the fairy out of immediate danger, I sat down to fret. Where could the book possibly be? How could I have lost it after so short a time as a Keeper? Not much of a Keeper I guess.
A Loser?
I searched my room again. It looked like a small tornado had started somewhere near my desk and terrorized my bed and the rest of the room before dying away.
Then it struck me: what if Mom had it?
Relief washed over me. Mom probably had it!
But what if Mom read it?
There was no point speculating, and yet my mind did it anyway. I pictured Mom coming home and telling me that she had met this gorilla and that they had really hit it off. Then I pictured my Mom thumping the gorilla with her purse and telling it to keep its own library.
It seemed like an eternity waiting.
I anxiously watched the clock, checking on the fairy every few minutes. Time inevitably ticked and Mom inevitably came home.
“Hi, Mom,” I said as I ran down the stairs. She hadn't even gotten in the door.
“You’re home early,” she said, “what are you washing?”
I had forgotten to take my sweater out of the machine. Too late now. “Oh, my sweater. I got mud on it.”
“Mud? How did you manage that?”
“An unfortunate… mud-related-incident…” I said, “anyway. My book, have you seen my book?�
�
“Hi Alex!” said Jonny, skipping into the house.
“Shoes, Jonny!” said Mom, “you seem eager.” She was being evasive.
I grew tense.
“Mom, where is my book?”
“I didn't think you would miss it. I mean, you were at school, so I just thought I’d-”
“What did you do?” my heart was racing now.
“Don't get shirty with me. I just took it in to get appraised. First editions are worth a lot of money, Alex.”
“I don't want money, Mom. I want my book.”
“You might not always feel like that. Anyway, it wasn't supposed to take this long. Mr. O’Conner at Albany Antiques was supposed to give me a call this afternoon, but he hasn't gotten back to me.”
“We have to go down there.”
“What are you so worried about? He probably just got a little busy. I’m sure I’ll be able to get it back to you tomorrow morning. And really, Alex. I did this for you. Surely you wanted to know if it was valuable?”
“I already knew that it was valuable. Can we just go now, please? I need it for my oral presentation,” I lied.
“Oh- well, I’m sorry Alex, but we cant. Albany Antiques closes early. You will just have to be patient.”
“Patient?!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Exasperated, I stormed upstairs. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I just wanted to do the right thing, but everything was a mess. Why did Mom have to interfere with everything like this?
I knew Mr. O’Connor from going into the store with Mom. He was in his nineties. He was probably already perusing the mystery section of The Library. If he could find it.
What if he died from the shock of being teleported into a different dimension? I pictured the Librarian walking up to him, dead on the tiles, prodding him with a massive leathery finger.
I couldn't wait.
There was too much at stake. Albany wasn't close by, but at least it was within walking distance. I didn't know exactly what I would do when I got there, but I had to try and get my book back.
I carefully placed the fairy in my sock drawer. It was burning up. I felt so sad to see its pain. That sadness drove me on.
I found an old jacket with a hood, grabbed my phone, and started out the door. It would be almost dark by the time I got there. I plugged myself into headphones and walked as quickly as I could.
I was warm by the time I got to Albany Antiques. It was a shabby one-story shop. It always puzzled me as a child why a place which contained such beautiful objects looked so tatty from the outside.
The front door had a distinct aura of solidness about it. I tried the handle.
It didn't budge.
I walked around the building, looking for an open window. I felt nervous about being in a place where I shouldn't be.
Hank was definitely wide awake.
Out the back of the shop, there was a gravel yard and a few old cars. It didn't look like people came back here very often.
The weeds were making a valiant effort to reclaim this land.
It seemed to be the sort of place where you might find broken glass so I walked as carefully as I could. There were no open windows out the back of the building either.
I was about to try the other side of the building when I saw that there was a garage door. It was open a crack at its base.
I tucked my hands inside my jacket sleeves to avoid cutting myself on something rusty, and tried to pull the door upward. It creaked and moaned and moved up a few inches. The sound was loud in the quiet evening. I looked about nervously and then pulled again.
Soon it was high enough for me to crawl under. I lowered myself to the ground and turned on the light on my phone to see what was on the other side.
My torch illuminated a sea of dust swirling around in the darkness. It looked like your typical barely-used garage and smelled distinctly of engine oil.
I found a spot where the ground seemed the cleanest and pulled my way through. Once on the other side, I began to really appreciate just how messy a garage could get.
An old car took up most of the space. It looked like it was in only slightly better condition than those left outside. There was hardly enough room for me to inch passed it to get to the door. Once passed, I grabbed at the brass door handle.
It opened.
I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the shop. It was quite dark now and only a small amount of light penetrated through the windows. They looked like they had never been cleaned. I had been in this store many times during the day, but never alone, and never at night. A stillness hung over everything.
I cast the light of my phone over the room. Brass objects polished within an inch of existence gleamed back at me.
This place was like a treasure cave.
Ancient ships lanterns hung from the rafters, sailing on the silent seas. Gramophones were playing hushed melodies to each other. There were ornate weighing devices, kept by some loving hands from before the switch to electricity.
The shop was a shrine to the god of ornate craftsmanship.
There was also something about this place that reminded me of a graveyard. Each of these objects was like a headstone for its original owner, long passed away.
I loved it here.
If it weren't for the urgency of my expedition, I would certainly have lingered. I wasn't really into the whole breaking and entering thing, but I made a mental note to ask Mr. O’Connor if I could come here to read sometime after he had closed down for the night.
If Mr. O’Connor was still alive.
I crept to the front desk and started searching all the places one might leave a book. The place was a mess. It could have been anywhere.
The piercing light of headlights swept across the shop accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a car parking.
I froze.
A car door was opened and then closed again. There was the rattle of keys. I ducked down behind the front desk and turned off my phone’s light.
The door lock clicked open.
There was nothing I could do. I was crouched in the most obvious location, and there was no way I could get out. All I could do was stay there, frozen, hoping that who ever it was would go away.
The shop light switched on, flooding everything with a soft yellow light. I listened carefully, trying to hear something, anything which would betray this person’s movements.
The light switched off. The door was closed again. The car outside started and its headlights blinked on. It drove away.
I realized that I had been holding my breath.
Mr. O’Connor needed a better security guy.
I waited a few more moments, just in case they came back.
When it was clear that I was alone, I switched my phone light back on and continued my search. I was frantic. I checked under every piece of paper, opened every drawer, and scanned every shelf. Finally, I sat back in the chair, exasperated, defeated.
That's when I saw it. There was another door. Another freaking door. How did I miss that?
Feelings of relief washed over me. I got to my feet and darted for the door. I turned the handle expecting it to come open, but it wouldn't budge.
“Shoot.”
There was a glass window in the door. I shone my light through. It looked to be some kind of workroom. It seemed to be the place where the restorations were done.
There, on the desk, was a book.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I stayed in the antiques store for another hour, ignoring the increasingly dramatic texts from my mother, but there was no way into that room. Dejected, I started the long walk back home.
All I could think about was that little creature. I had this image of finding it dead in my sock drawer in the morning. It was just so sad, but I couldn't think about anything else. I had failed it. The Librarian was wrong. I was not fit to be The Library’s Keeper.
When I got home, Mom was pointedly waiting for me. “Where have you been?�
�� she demanded.
“Out,” I said, trying to dodge her and get upstairs.
“Don't just ‘out’ me, missy. That's not good enough. This is a school night. Jonny has been asking where you are.”
I looked over at Jonny. He was eating an apple and watching TV, oblivious.
“Sorry, I just had to go. Lilly has a copy of Alice.”
“Well, you need to tell me, not just shoot off like that. I don't like this sort of behavior, Alexandria. I don't want to see it becoming a habit.”
“Look, I'm sorry. Can I go?”
“Just text me next time.”
Soon I was at the top of the stairs and then in my bedroom. I turned on the light. My window was open, and the fairy was standing on the ledge. It looked at me, clearly still in pain.
But it was alive. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Go,” I said, “just watch out for cats, OK? Come back when you want to go home.”
The fairy nodded and then flew into the night, a loose bandage trailing behind.
I hardly slept that night.
My brain whirred, thinking over all the things I could say to the Librarian to try and convince her that It wouldn't happen again.
When I awoke, my head was thudding. I got ready for school as normal, but as soon as I was out of the house, I started walking towards Albany and the antiques store. So I would be late for school? This was far more important.
The roads were clogged up with commuters heading into the city. I felt self-conscious and exposed walking in the opposite direction to school. All I could do was focus on walking forward.
It was 10 am when I arrived at Albany Antiques. If anything it looked even more run down in the morning light.
To my dismay, it was still not open. I looked about for something indicating its opening hours. Why hadn’t I checked that last night?
