The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1)

by Casey White

  Contents

  Title Page

  More from Casey White

  Copyright

  Dedication

  - Chapter One -

  - Chapter Two -

  - Chapter Three -

  - Chapter Four -

  - Chapter Five -

  - Chapter Six -

  - Chapter Seven -

  - Chapter Eight -

  - Chapter Nine -

  - Chapter Ten -

  Title Page

  - Chapter Eleven -

  - Chapter Twelve -

  - Chapter Thirteen -

  - Chapter Fourteen -

  - Chapter Fifteen -

  - Chapter Sixteen -

  - Chapter Seventeen -

  - Chapter Eighteen -

  - Chapter Nineteen -

  - Chapter Twenty -

  - Chapter Twenty-One -

  - Chapter Twenty-Two -

  - Chapter Twenty-Three -

  - Chapter Twenty-Four -

  - Chapter Twenty-Five -

  - Chapter Twenty-Six -

  - Chapter Twenty-Seven -

  - Chapter Twenty-Eight -

  - Chapter Twenty-Nine -

  - Chapter Thirty -

  - Chapter Thirty-One -

  - Chapter Thirty-Two -

  - Chapter Thirty-Three -

  - Chapter Thirty-Four -

  - Chapter Thirty-Five -

  - Chapter Thirty-Six -

  - Chapter Thirty-Seven -

  - Chapter Thirty-Eight -

  - Chapter Thirty-Nine -

  - Chapter Forty -

  - Chapter Forty-One -

  Acknowledgements

  To Read More

  - The Librarian - Chapter One -

  More from Casey White

  THE Library

  - A Remnants of Magic Novel -

  Casey White

  More from Casey White

  ——————————

  Independent Series

  ————————

  The Flameweaver Saga

  Chosen

  Charred

  Nightsworn

  Ascendant

  -

  Reverie

  Halfway to Home

  Unknown Horizons

  Richard “Quickdraw” McCallister

  A Eulogy

  Shorts

  Black Skies

  Worlds that Never Were

  Deposition of the Departed

  The Aedanverse

  ————————

  Remnants of Magic

  Silvertongue

  Wanderer

  Legion

  The Library

  The Library

  The Librarian

  Spark of Divinity

  Survival’s Edge

  Fortune’s Fool

  Terra Rising

  This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, certain characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Library

  Copyright © 2017-2020 Casey White

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9798669516680

  For all of those who gave up on seeing this come alive.

  - Chapter One -

  The taste of blood filled her mouth, lingering at the very edge of her senses.

  She stumbled forward, putting one foot in front of the other. Her chest burned, sending pangs of searing agony through her lungs with every breath. Her hands shook. She shoved them into the pockets of her windbreaker, willing the thin spring jacket to hide the motion from sight.

  Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

  But the park was only a few short steps away. She fixed her eyes on it, drank in the sight of the swing set and the slides in the corner and the grass growing everywhere she looked. The forest pressed in close, with the distant glow of houses lending a gloomy air to the whole scene.

  There were people there, yes, but not many. She scanned the clustered groups, desperate to find her answer.

  An older couple stood under a street light, their hair as silver as hers. She smiled, tight-lipped. No. That wouldn’t work. That wouldn’t help anything.

  A throng of teenagers huddled around a water fountain, at the edge of a makeshift soccer field they’d carved out of the grass. Their laughter drifted over to her on the still-chilly breeze, raucous and unconcerned. She hesitated, letting her gaze settle on them.

  And then she sighed, tearing her eyes away. No. It would be too risky. They might be willing to accept the truth, but they’d never be able to accept their fates. Worse still was the thought of them letting it all slip. All of her hard work would be for nothing.

  No, no. She swallowed hard, willing her hands to stop shaking. They didn’t listen.

  She stopped.

  He was just a tiny figure, a huddled shadow right on the edge of the trees. He’d found a tree to lean against, and even though he had to lift his book up to catch the little remaining light, there was a smile on his lips.

  Her heart sank. But before she knew it, she was walking.

  This is a bad idea, she whispered silently to herself. Her hand rose, pressing flat against something hidden under her shirt. The sign she’d been dreading. But... This will get me in trouble. He’s too young, besides. Untrained. He never agreed to something like this. He doesn’t even know.

  Even as she thought it to herself, though, the pain in her chest burned brighter. She already knew. It didn’t matter. None of it did. The time had come, and ready or not, that little boy she saw sitting at the edge of the woods was the last option she’d be given.

  Gathering herself, she straightened. The mask slid into place with practiced ease. When she started walking again, her steps were as smooth and sure as ever. Her gaze swept over the child, cold and assessing. But there was no putting off the inevitable.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling down at him.

  He looked up, flinching a little at the sound of her voice. His eyes went round, the brown of them nearly shading to black in the faint light. “H-Hi,” he said.

  She fought off a sigh, hiding it behind her ever-present smile. He was young. Damn it, he was too young.

  “That’s quite the book you’ve got there,” she said, forcing the doubts away and crouching down to tap at it. “Not bad, for a kid.”

  His eyes narrowed. He scrunched his nose up, scowling at her like she’d insulted him. “I’m not a kid,” he said. “I’m seven.”

  “Oh,” she said, letting her eyes widen dramatically. “Oh, I’m sorry. Well, I think that’s still something, don’t you?”

  “I can read the whole thing,” he said, his voice rising insistently. “It’s not hard.”

  “All of it?” she said.

  He grinned, then, flashing a mouthful of missing teeth at her. “All of it! Even the big words.” His excitement faltered. “B-But sometimes I have to ask mom what they mean.”

  “Well, that’s fine,” she said, chuckling softly. “That’s how you learn, isn’t it?”

  “Right!” he said. And then he pulled the book open, flipping madly through the pages to find...something. She wasn’t quite sure what, and she wasn’t listening as he muttered to himself. At any second she was going to start coughing, and once she started, nothing would stop it. The pain in her heart would tear her apart, leaving nothing behind.

  He’ll have to do.

  “What’s your name?” she heard herself saying. The words came out oddly distant, like
she was hearing someone else talk. “I think I’d like to know the name of someone as special as you.” Her words dripped with all the honey she could cover them in. Kids weren’t her forte. This was not ideal.

  “Daniel!” he said, dropping the book back to his lap and beaming up at her again. His hair scattered with the motion, catching glimmers of light from the street. At the start of the day, it’d probably been neatly brushed. After a few hours spent sitting by the tree, though, it was coated with bits of bark and dirt. Here and there, a pine needle protruded from between the black clumps of it.

  “Daniel, eh? Well, that’s a good name. That’s a great name.” She lifted a hand towards her collar as she spoke, pulling a fine-wrought chain free.

  Whatever Daniel had been about to say, it was forgotten in an instant as a tiny, golden pendant bounced to a stop between them. His brown eyes were perfectly round, fixed on the necklace.

  She smiled, despite herself. “I’m afraid I have to go, Daniel. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk longer. But I think I’d like to talk to you again. Maybe next time I’ll bring my favorite book. Does that sound like fun?”

  “You like books too?” Daniel said. His face lit up, blindingly bright and earnest.

  She faltered. Her smile fractured, coming within an inch of falling away entirely - but she forced it back into place. “I do,” she whispered. And then she cleared her throat. “I definitely do enjoy reading, Daniel. So how about you hold onto this for me until then?” She winked, her smile turning conspiratorial. “Us book-lovers have to stick together.”

  He giggled, bobbing his head in a nod. It was the work of a moment to slip the chain around his neck, tucking the pendant safely under his shirt. Her skin prickled as the metal left her grasp.

  She could feel the eyes on her, burning a hole in the back of her neck. The others in the park wouldn’t think too much of an old woman like her sharing a word with a child. Probably. She’d probably look like nothing more suspicious than his grandmother come to pick him up. But the longer she lingered, the greater the risk.

  And through it all, her chest screamed its complaint. The pain was still growing, building stronger and stronger until she didn’t know how much longer she could bear it.

  Her time was up.

  She straightened, transfixed by the gentle glimmer of the necklace’s chain barely poking out from under his shirt. “You should get going,” she said, her voice taking on a raspy edge. “It’s getting dark. Your family will worry, won’t they?” Her expression softened. Deep wrinkles sank into her skin. “Maybe I’ll see you again. Now get!”

  Her hand raised on the last. He sprang to his feet as if she’d actually struck him, grabbing his book and tucking it into a tiny, plastic-sided backpack he’d put behind him. “Y-Yeah!”

  There. That was all she could do. She turned, scanning the park, but every breath was pure agony. Escape that way was no longer an option. Slowly, reluctantly, she took a step towards the woods.

  “Oh!”

  She froze, half-turning at the sound of the boy’s cry. Daniel stood a few paces from his tree, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was still grinning, but it was more sheepish than before. “I forgot. Mom said- I’m supposed to be polite.” He thrust his hand out towards her, fingers wide. “I’m Daniel. What’s your name?”

  Her heart ached. The spectacle of him standing there waiting to shake hands was nearly enough to break her. His parents were nothing if not thorough, she thought with a wry chuckle.

  And then she reached out, taking his hand in hers and giving it a good shake.

  “My name is Jean.”

  * * * * *

  Daniel ran, the bag on his back bouncing with each hasty step. The trees pressed in close on either side of him. The noises of the park faded into the background until it was just him and the forest.

  He stopped, though, pausing to look back over his shoulder.

  Miss Jean was just a distant shape, a few strands of her silver hair gleaming in the growing sunset as she walked away. She was already halfway into the trees on the far side of the woodchips. He stared after her, his smile fading as confusion took its place. There were only more woods in that direction, nothing more. And she looked...odd. Her steps were slow, her shoulders slumped.

  But his excitement at the events of the night was too complete for Daniel to worry over little details. He’d made a friend - and the thought of showing his mother the pendant he’d been given outweighed any worries. He turned on his heel, racing off along the little dirt path that wound its way through the woods. His head pounded, thrumming with the pulse that thundered in his ears.

  It grew as he ran for home, following the same path he’d sprinted down a hundred times before. His skin prickled too, simmering with a heat that built by the second. Daniel’s heart sank. He didn’t want to be sick. His mother would want him to stay in bed. Besides, he was fine. The edge of the treeline was visible It was just-

  The first wave of exhaustion washed over him as he broke into the open air of their neighborhood. He stumbled, but caught himself. The path home stretched out before him.

  The second came a few moments later. His foot caught against a stone in the hard-packed dirt. Daniel went down hard, skidding through the weed-filled grass of the copse. His head spun. He pushed himself upright, shaking his head blearily. Not far. He was almost home. Just a little more.

  His mother came looking an hour later, crying his name and just beginning to go pale with worry.

  She found him passed out in the weeds behind their neighbor’s yard, burning with fever.

  - Chapter Two -

  Daniel’s eyes slid open.

  At first all he could see was darkness, wrapped around him like a blanket. He gasped - and much to his surprise, the breath came as easily as ever. His brow furrowed. Why was that surprising?

  He shivered, twisting to one side. He’d been running. He’d been sick. He didn’t know what exactly had happened, but he remembered all too well that something had been horribly, horribly wrong.

  When he rolled over, though, he was met with plush fabric, not dirt and grass. He stopped. And then he reached out, slowly easing himself upright.

  He was laying in a bed, he realized, still dressed for the park. And the bed was big. Big enough to swallow him whole, burying him in tidal waves of blankets topped with pillows like white caps. He flinched, throwing the covers away. His pulse thundered in his ears. His hands shook. In a second he was on his feet, stumbling away from the unfamiliar furniture as though it was going to come alive and attack him.

  It didn’t, of course. He was left trembling, slowly turning in a circle as the full breadth of the room around him became apparent.

  It was magnificent.

  The bed was the centerpiece. But from behind it stretched walls paneled with wood, melding artfully into stone floors lined with thick rugs. The ceiling vaulted high over his head, and Daniel could only gape at the sight of the herbs and carved charms hanging from the exposed rafters.

  A shiver ran down his spine as strings of light sparked to life amidst the collection. It was as though the room itself was finally recognizing he was awake.

  He turned himself away, licking suddenly-dry lips.

  A moment later, he froze.

  For a second he could only blink, staring at the racks of books that seemed haphazardly shoved in here and there. Leather-bound tomes sat lazily stacked on end tables, on the mantle over a massive fireplace, even on the foot of his bed. A shelf twice as tall as he was and half again as wide stood teeming with row after row of identical-looking books. He crept closer, grabbing the one from the bed. It dropped to the ground with a thump. His lips parted. It was so heavy. Picking it up was out of the question, but he lowered himself to the rug and wrestled the cover open.

  He’d been expecting the printed letters he was so familiar with. Instead, though, he was greeted by a page filled with handwritten lines, packed densely enough he couldn’t begin to make them out. Entrance
d, he dragged a finger across them, pressing his nose closer and closer.

  No matter how hard he tried, though, Daniel couldn’t pick out more than a word here or there. He sat up, beginning to scowl. A glimmer of light from across the room was enough distract him. He went statue-still for the second time in as many minutes, only his eyes flicking back and forth as he searched for the source.

  He let out a sigh of relief when he found it - a wall of glass on the far side of the room, more like a single, massive window. A door was inset beside it, leading out to a path that wound between patches of flowers and out to a pond. Daniel sprang to his feet, hardly realizing he was smiling. In a second, his hands were on the glass, his eyes narrowed to squint out.

  The garden outside was every bit as lovely as the room was. He stood there, taking it all in. The cobblestones leading around and around the plants, the brilliance of the blossoms, the willow that loomed over it all...

  His breath caught in his chest. Little by little, his smile was fading.

  Looking outside like this, something...didn’t feel right. There was no logic or reason to it, but Daniel couldn’t shake the feeling that the world was too perfect. Too still. The closer he looked the more the whole thing looked like a painting, rather than a place filled with life.

  It was wrong.

  Daniel stumbled away from the glass, his eyes widening. The feeling grew stronger with every passing second. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. He wasn’t supposed to be here - he’d been at the park, just a short walk from home. All of his confusion that had begun to fade surged in anew, rekindled to a sudden, violent edge.

  He spun, gasping for breath, and saw it. A single door sat tucked into the very corner, surrounded by more bookshelves and carved from heavy wood with a thick iron clasp. He couldn’t cross the room fast enough. It took all his strength, but after a few tries he managed to lift the handle and throw the door open. He fell through the gap in a tumbling mess of limbs and fabric.