The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1)

by Casey White

  She stiffened, her head lifting like he’d struck her. Just like that, whatever fugue had settled over her vanished. In a flash, she stood. “You know better than that,” she said, stooping down to smack his leg lightly. “Anyway. That’s a trouble for the future. Right now, you need to be stronger.”

  “I know,” he said, scrambling to get himself off the ground. “I’m trying.”

  “The Librarian has to be strong,” Crow said, raising a finger.

  He rolled his eyes, knowing she’d never see. He’d heard it all before. “For the first rule of the Library.”

  “Exactly,” she said, still holding that finger there. “Never allow any harm to come to our guests. If someone gives you trouble? You have to be strong enough to handle it without hurting them, Owl.”

  “Even someone like that asshole Bill?” Owl said, frowning.

  She laughed, then. “Even someone like him. They’re still guests. And when we’re so strong, there’s no excuse. We’re the peacekeepers. That doesn’t stop when they’re mean.”

  Fine. He wasn’t happy with what she said, but he knew she was right. Slowly, begrudgingly, he nodded.

  “Good.” Her hand slapped across the back of his shoulders lightly, driving him forward a half-step. “Now, get back out there. We’re wasting time. Chop chop!”

  Her hand came up, curling toward her chest, and the air crackled ominously.

  Knowing the start to a new match when he saw it, Owl ran. His mind raced, filled with plans - attacks, and defenses, and counterattacks. This time, he’d win.

  But not even that could wipe away the feeling of dread simmering in his gut.

  - Chapter Six -

  Owl trotted past desk after desk, his eyes alight behind his mask.

  No one looked up at him. No one chuckled, or scoffed, or shot a derisive glance his way. Each of them was a busy scholar with plans of their own, after all - plans he’d grown familiar with over the weeks since they’d started to filter in.

  He knew each of them, too. Timothy sat on the end, his nose buried in the chemistry text Owl had pulled for him not half an hour before. It’d help him break through whatever process he was trying to perfect, Owl was sure. Ben occupied the table behind him, the entire surface filled with scrawlings of mathematics Owl couldn’t begin to understand even with his growing education.

  All of them was here for a reason - and it was him who got to make their dreams come true.

  Somewhere along the line, Owl had realized he liked that. It was good to be able to help, to contribute to something bigger than just himself. It was even better to do so without being laughed at or harassed.

  The paper he held was still damp with ink, carefully penned moments before. He eyed it, letting his gaze trace over each letter and word. If he’d made a mistake...if he’d transcribed even a single line wrong-

  No. He banished the thought, setting his jaw stubbornly. He understood. And he hadn’t messed up.

  Marv sat all the way in the back corner, pulling and teasing at what had to be the last strand of silver hair left on the old man’s head. He looked up at Owl’s approach, his expression brightening. “Ah, lad. Good. I was hoping you might-”

  “Here,” Owl said, breathless, and thrust the sheet toward him. “The journal entry you were struggling with.”

  Marv’s brow furrowed, his eyes tensing. They widened as he reached out to take the paper, inspecting the words written there. “This...Did you-”

  “I translated it for you,” Owl said, resisting the urge to bounce on his heels. “It wasn’t that hard. It was just written in a local variant. A regional dialect, kind of. Once I saw that, I just needed to find something to compare between them and-”

  “Are you telling me you can read all this?” Marv said, his hands quivering gently.

  Owl blinked, taken aback by the confusion and befuddled awe building in the older man’s eyes. “I...It’s just a different language,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush.

  “Lord in heaven, child, I’ve been studying this tongue for three decades, and I couldn’t begin to-”

  “I’m a quick study,” Owl said, flashing the man a smile he knew would remain hidden. And he was a fast learner, when it came right down to it. It just so happened that he had a few tricks to help him out - like being able to access dictionaries for long-dead languages, and bring lost information to his fingertips.

  The confusion in Marv’s face didn’t fade, though, and Owl sank lower. He could read it in the man’s expression. This wasn’t right, Marv seemed to be saying. It didn’t make sense. It was wrong. There was no way he should be able to do the things he did.

  But it was just language. Owl clasped his hands in front of him, atop the many pockets lining his leather overcoat, and inclined his head. “I thought it might help, sir.”

  “Help?” Marv scoffed. “Christ. This’ll save me...weeks. Months. Hell, I might never have found a lead like this.” His eyes never left Owl’s face, though, boring into the porcelain planes of his mask. “I just don’t understand how you-”

  “I’m glad it will be helpful,” Owl said, skipping back a step. “If you’ll excuse me, sir.”

  Marv’s protests echoed behind him as he turned, hurrying towards the study’s grand doors.

  The others were beginning to wrap up. The Library’s ‘day’ was coming to an end, and the lights burned lower with every second that passed. They’d toddle back to their rooms before long, settling in for a night of quiet conversation before finding sleep. His steps slowed. If Alexandria wasn’t...wasn’t real, why did the guests sleep? Why did he?

  Because they did, he decided just as quickly, resolving to ask Jean about it later. With the visitors winding down, that meant his own duties were coming to an end as well. Letting the double doors slide shut behind him, he slipped out into the Library.

  He’d only been free for a few moments, but already, his thoughts raced ahead to his own room, his own bed. His legs ached, and his arms too. He’d gotten his quarters arranged to perfection, warm and cozy with a low ceiling and broad, open windows opening to a garden he was quite sure didn’t actually exist anywhere on the grounds.

  The sitting room lay ahead of him as he turned a corner - the sitting room, and a pair of doors beyond. The Librarians’ quarters. He’d flop down into bed, stripping off the stuffy mask and cumbersome overcoat, and-

  Owl stopped, one hand already halfway to the throat of his jacket.

  Something was...clicking. Ticking away, like gears. Like...

  His head turned. He stared at the clock mounted on the wall, brow furrowed. It was clicking. That was...not normal. Not at all.

  No sooner had he taken a step toward it when the final gear turned. The clock shifted, rotating a final degree and bringing a glass orb to the apex of its arc.

  High overhead, echoing as though from within a clock tower Owl had never before seen, bells screamed across the quiet.

  His heart thundered in his chest. He stumbled back from the clock, twisting and turning as though expecting an attack. What was it doing? What was happening? He was the Librarian, or the Librarian’s assistant, at least, and he should know what to do. Everyone expected him to-

  Jean’s door creaked - and then opened, swinging wide.

  Owl watched, pinned in place, as she stepped free. Her hand lingered at the collar of her jacket, doing up the last set of buttons. Her black-glass eyes turned to him as the leather came together. “Oh, good. You’re already here. That saves a good bit of time.”

  “C-Crow,” Owl said, relief filling the word. He raced forward, all but throwing himself at her. “W-What’s-”

  “Come, now,” Crow said, reaching out and dropping a hand onto the crown of his head. Her fingers tightened and jiggled, squeezing his skull affectionately. “This is all normal, kid. Don’t panic. What do you think is happening?”

  The edge of his panic started to temper, cooling. Jean didn’t seem worried. She said it was normal. If that was the case... �
��It’s the clock,” Owl said, turning his gaze to the machinery over the fireplace. “It’s chiming, so I...oh.”

  Crow laughed, then, her shoulders hunching forward gently. “Well, you got there eventually. Let’s go fetch Mr. Parker.”

  She took a step forward, brisk and decisive. Owl stood frozen a moment longer, then scurried after her. Her final words cut across the sudden quiet left in the bells’ wake, slicing like a knife.

  “His time is up.”

  * * * * *

  With her words rattling around his head and the adrenaline of the moment still surging through his limbs, the walk that had taken a few moments so shortly before seemed to take ages. Owl trotted along behind Crow, watching the doors grow steadily closer - the grand, massive oaken constructs, ones he’d pushed through so often before.

  Closer and closer they crept, until finally Crow stepped through into the study beyond.

  The others weren’t studying, anymore. They’d all heard the bells, clearly, and had abandoned their seats. Owl snorted, dropping his head in a feeble attempt to get their stares off him. Everyone would have heard something like that. They huddled in pairs, whispering to each other and watching the two Librarians approach.

  All but for one, that was.

  Bill Parker sat at his desk, half-hidden behind a massive stack of books. His shoulders twitched as they came through the study’s doors, but he didn’t look up, and he didn’t move.

  He didn’t even acknowledge their presence, in fact. Crow strode closer and closer, her steps filled with a casual, confident nonchalance.

  Her gloved fingers brushed against the wood of his desk, bracing gently. “Mr. Parker.”

  The man’s pen flew faster and faster across his narrow-lined journal. He didn’t say anything. A flush of color spread across his cheeks, though.

  Crow waited a long moment, motionless. Owl glanced around furtively, hearing the whispers grow louder and louder.

  When no reply was forthcoming, she rapped a knuckle against the wood. “Mr. Parker. I’m afraid to inform you that-”

  “Just another few minutes,” Bill said, waving her off. His eyes never left his tome. “I’m nearly done, and-”

  “The clock has rung,” Crow said. Owl let her words fill his ears, trying to memorize the way she spoke. “You are not a first-time guest, Mr. Parker. I trust you know what that means.”

  “A first time guest?” Bill said, with a scornful laugh rippling under the words. “You lot have squandered the little time I had left. Leave me be. I’ll be done shortly, and-”

  “Come along,” Crow said, towering over him. “Alexandria’s boon has been given. Now, it’s time to go.”

  His head whipped up, his eyes narrowed and teeth bared. “I said, give me a little more-”

  Crow snapped her fingers, taking a step back. A cacophony of leather cracking shut exploded across their corner of the study.

  Owl shuddered away, clapping his hands over his ears, and watched all of the books on Bill’s desk snap themselves closed one after another.

  Each of his books shot toward the shelves, settling neatly into empty slots and open racks. The man lunged for the nearest one, his face beet red, but it flew from the tabletop with all its fellows.

  “As I have said, Mr. Parker,” Crow said, reaching down and grasping the single book remaining - his narrow-bound journal. She lifted it, presenting it to him with both hands. “Your time has expired. It has been my pleasure to be your host through the years. If you’ll accompany me to the exit, we’ll-”

  “Uppity bitch,” he muttered under his breath, snatching the journal from her hands.

  She stood like that, carefully motionless, as he stalked past her toward the exit. Her chin dropped faintly, her mask turning toward Owl. In the sudden, deathly quiet that had settled over the study, he could almost hear her grinding her teeth together.

  Without a word to him, she turned, sweeping off after their guest.

  Despite Bill’s rage of a few moments before, it wasn’t long before Crow caught up to him - and then outpaced him, going from lagging behind to leading the way. He dragged his feet, glancing down each doorway they passed and back up to her, as though hoping he could make a break for it and hide within their shelves.

  Each time, Crow only slowed, turning her head the faintest amount to glare at him. And each time, he scowled and hurried onward again.

  His pulse racing, Daniel couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief as the beautifully-worked doors to Alexandria’s entryway appeared ahead of them. His steps quickened, pulling him closer to Crow and their charge.

  She paused at the doorway, holding it open for him, and her fingers brushed against his shoulder reassuringly as he scurried through.

  “This is ridiculous,” Bill was already saying, spinning to face the Librarians. “You lot have been sandbagging this entire time. Sabotaging me. I’ll have you know, I-”

  “I hope that your stay has been productive, sir,” Crow said, stepping past him to the rack on the wall.

  The door she’d been holding open shut with an audible, final-sounding click. Owl jumped - and from the corner of his eye, he saw Bill twist to eye the latch. Something hid underneath the anger in the man’s expression. Something that looked an awful lot like fear.

  He cleared his throat, sucking in a lungful of air. “You’ve rigged that clock, haven’t you? Who put you up to this? Was it Williams? Whatever he paid you, I’ll-”

  “Here we are,” Crow said, pulling a card free. Four red stamps gleamed on its surface, filling all of the neatly-printed boxes. She held it out, letting it catch the light from the lanterns overhead. “I think you’ll find everything is in order, sir.”

  “I’m so close,” Bill said, and now it was more plain than ever. The anger faded, draining away with every word the scholar spoke. He’d gone from brilliant red to ashen grey in a scant few moments. “Please. I can’t- There’s no way for me to finish research like this out there. If I fail here, I’ll-”

  “I’m very sorry,” Crow said, more quietly. Her fingers tensed against the card stock, her chin dropping to her chest.

  Flickers of red sprang up to join the lantern-light. Sparks flew from her fingers, catching across the paper’s surface.

  Bill sprang forward, a cry on his lips - just in time to see Crow lift her hands, letting embers and char fall to the stonework floor.

  One scrap drifted down slowly, still showing a red stamp on its pale surface. Another moment, and it vanished into cinders.

  “Thank you for your patronage,” Crow said, and she bowed.

  Owl jumped when she kicked his boot, remembering himself. He dropped low alongside her, bending forward at the waist. He couldn’t quite trust himself to speak, but decided that was for the best. The man probably didn’t want to hear from him right then.

  When he lifted his head, peering up, he found Bill seething, his face twisted into a mask of emotion.

  Behind him, the front door swung open. Light poured in through the gap.

  “Safe travels, sir,” Crow said, stepping forward when it became obvious the man wasn’t going to move. She took his arm, turning him around, and led him on. “I wish you new fortunes.”

  Bill Parker’s spluttered curses vanished as the door swung shut again, closing him out of Alexandria.

  And then they were alone, the two of them sealed into that empty chamber. Owl’s head rolled back, settling against his shoulders. Gone. He was gone - finally. And it hadn’t come to blows, no matter how much he’d feared the man would take a swing at Crow.

  She turned on her heel, striding back toward him. “There,” she said, pausing in front of him. “Just like that. Simple enough, yes?”

  “Y-Yeah,” he said, brightening. “And he’s really gone?”

  “Can’t come back,” she said, a wistful note entering her voice. “A year’s all they get, Daniel. He’ll never walk these halls again.”

  “Oh.”

  She stretched her arms over her head,
flexing every muscle. “That’s....That’s it. And with that-”

  Owl cringed. Her words had taken on a crisp, businesslike edge.

  “-It’s time you got back to the others, hmm?” she said.

  “...Right,” Owl said, taking a step back. “I’ll...I’ll get back to it.”

  “Thank you, Daniel.” Her murmured words drifted in his wake as he grabbed for the door, letting himself out and hurrying on his way.

  * * * * *

  Owl crept closer to the rack of books, peering this way and that. Tired, aging parchment crackled under his fingers. He lifted himself just far enough to see over the shelf, eyes narrowed.

  He was sure he’d seen something.

  He should be hurrying, his thoughts screamed. Marv had been waiting for his translation all afternoon, and even if the old scholar seemed cheerfully amiable about the whole deal, Owl didn’t want to hold him up.

  Which was why he should head straight back to his desk and keep at the translation - only, he’d caught a glimmer of light right at the edge of his vision.

  If it was a dreamer...He clamped down on the thought, hurrying onward through the shelves. He didn’t want to be the one to handle one of the spectral, ghostly visitors. He’d rather leave something like that for Jean to deal with. Only, she’d told him this was their job. She’d looked so serious about it, the last time he’d run to her for help.

  She’d looked oddly serious a lot lately, he realized. She’d been quiet ever since Bill Parker had left Alexandria. Quiet, and terse. Like she was worried about something.

  If Jean was worried, then he wouldn’t be the one to make things worse for her. He grabbed his mask, straightening the straps around his head, and continued on his way. One more lap of the wing. If he hadn’t found a dreamer by then, he’d head straight back and-

  Bells rang out across the Library.

  Owl skidded to a stop, his eyes going wide at the sudden noise of it all. He latched onto the bookshelf nearest him to keep from tumbling down, craning his head back to look at the ceiling as though the bells would appear from thin air.