by Casey White
“Then-”
“Listen,” she said, and he stopped, caught by the urgency in her voice. Her eyes bored into his, as vividly green as ever. “In your room. There’s a shelf, filled with books.”
He laughed awkwardly. “Jean, the whole Library is filled with-”
“Not like those,” she said, each word clipped and short. “Journals. They’re different.” She didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. “They’re the lives of the Librarians who came before, penned by their hands.”
“Journals?” he whispered. “But, Jean, why does that-”
“They can tell you the things...the things I didn’t have time for,” she said. “Read them. When you need help. When you have questions. I wish...I had been able to spend more time with you. Preparing you.”
“You can,” he said, growing more desperate by the second. “Jean, you-”
“That’s all,” she said. “I just wanted to show you that. The stamp. That was all.”
It was as though a wall had been dropped between them, closing him off from her entirely. He sat on the edge of his chair, staring at Jean like she was a world away.
The dismissal in her words was clear - and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to move, to walk away. His fists balled up. His heels bounced, rubbing against the intricately-embroidered fabric. Something wasn’t right here. Something was very, very wrong, and Jean wouldn’t even look at him anymore.
Finally, he couldn’t take the quiet anymore. “...Jean?” he whispered.
She glanced up sidelong at him, her expression softening. “Go on, Daniel,” she murmured. “Our guests have only just departed. I’m sure they left the study a mess.”
His skin prickled. That wasn’t what he’d meant - and it didn’t matter how dirty the study was. She was here, and she was being weird. “But I think I should-”
“We’ll be outside soon enough,” she said, a trace of that same, serene smile returning to her face. “We should look after Alexandria before that. Librarians should not tolerate a mess in her walls, I think.”
There it was again - that same dismissal, hammered down and tempered until only iron remained. Daniel pushed himself from the chair, bounding to his feet. “Okay,” he mumbled. “I guess.”
He was no more than halfway to the door when he heard her speak again, though.
“Daniel?”
He spun on his heel, his excitement flaring to life again.
Jean watched him, still half-buried in the cushions of her chair. Her smile remained, but it’d faded, twisting with an odd...grief.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
Daniel rocked back and forth, his thoughts a jumbled mess. “J-Jean?” he managed, his brow furrowing.
“I’m...I’m sorry,” she said, and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes slid shut. “I just wanted you to know that. Someday, when you’re able...” She shook her head, ever so gently. A strand of silvered hair fell from behind her ear, dancing along her cheek. “I hope that you can forgive me.”
Daniel stood like a statue, completely frozen. What was she saying? Forgive her? For what? He opened his mouth, confused, but closed it again.
He didn’t know. And he didn’t know how to ask.
So he turned instead, bolting for the door and leaving her there in the sitting room.
She whispered something as he ran, something too soft to hear. Maybe it was for him. Maybe she was talking to Alexandria again. With his mind a mess and his emotions right on the edge of boiling over, he couldn’t force himself to go back.
So he ran, and let the Library swallow him up.
* * * * *
He went back to the study. One book at a time, he carried the texts back to their shelves. Maybe he could have magicked them there, like Jean did. Maybe he could have carried them in stacks. He didn’t.
And then the study was clean again.
He went into the wings. Here and there, a rack by the door would gleam with new arrivals. One at a time, he carried the books to their new homes. He could have ran. He could have hurried. He didn’t.
And then the racks were empty.
His feet carried him down one hallway after another. He wandered, little more than a ghost passing through rooms that glowed with stained glass and warehouses filled with darkness. Perhaps there would be a dreamer, he told himself. Perhaps there’d be another soul here, desperate for help.
Maybe he was the dreamer, stuck looking for an answer he’d never find. Maybe Jean would come fetch him, a laugh on her lips and amused tolerance in her eyes. Maybe she’d take him by the hand, and everything would be the way it was.
She didn’t. His walk continued uninterrupted, stretching out for miles within the grand, impossible structure.
She’d want coffee. The thought appeared from within the murk of his mind like a buoy in a storm. She gets grumpy without something warm to sip in the evenings. His steps slowed, coming to a halt at last. Maybe it’d make her feel better. He could do that much, at least.
He turned. Slowly at first, but picking up speed, he dashed back the way he’d come. Winding hallways slipped by, tapestries fluttering at his passage. The wind blew through his hair, blissfully welcome after too long spent masked and hooded.
His feet slapped at the ground. His smile grew as he rounded another corner, finding a familiar pair of doors at the end. He’d come back, and they’d talk.
The doors flew open before him. He skidded to a stop, drawing breath, and-
Stopped.
The fire in the grate crackled cheerfully. The lingering smell of coffee filled the room.
The chairs were empty.
“Jean?” Daniel said, his confusion building. He stepped forward, looking around. “Where’d you go?”
She didn’t appear from the woodwork, laughing at his distress. She didn’t leap from behind one of the tables, leering at him.
He was alone.
An early night, then. Daniel nodded, continuing on toward their quarters. Jean wasn’t the sort to waste time, but she did like to retire early now and again. She’d probably made coffee for herself, and gone back to her-
His feet stopped listening. His limbs froze up, quickly enough he nearly fell. Through it all, his eyes stayed glued to...to...
To the empty wall where her door had been. It was gone. Just...gone, like someone had put stonework right across the empty space.
Like she’d never been there at all.
“Jean?” he cried, and even he could hear the panic starting to soak through his voice. “Jean, where are you?”
The doors to the sitting room burst open before him. Back into the Library he went, faster than before.
His legs flew underneath him. His breath came hard and ragged, fear tugging at his limbs and making him awkward. The stones grabbed at his feet, ready to pull him down. His toe caught in a crack. He lurched, gasping with a half-cry, and pulled himself upright again.
The labs. The wings. He dashed through Alexandria’s greenhouse, his head spinning this way and that. With every hall that passed, with every doorway he ran through, he expected to see her waiting there. She’d be bent over a desk, nose-deep in a book. Or standing at a table, neatly recording notes for this or that project.
Everywhere he looked, he found only lonely darkness. And with every room that slipped by, cold and empty, he ran a little faster. Tears blurred his vision, obscuring the books from sight. His throat ached, raw and torn from screaming her name.
And still, he couldn’t find her.
Half-blinded by emotion and exertion, he didn’t recognize the doors until he pushed through - and found himself back in the sitting room, right where he’d begun.
With a muted snarl, he spun, throwing himself at the doors and-
They rattled in their frame, locked tight.
Daniel stared up at them, shock overcoming terror and grief for a brief, passing moment. “What?” he whispered. He was the Librarian’s apprentice. Here in Alexandria, there were no locked doors for him. His
hands grasped the handles, pushing harder.
But they didn’t open. Clenching his jaw, he slammed his shoulder into them, crying out as starbursts of pain lit along his frame.
The doors didn’t move.
His hands fell from the cold metal. He stepped back, panting for breath. The carpet of the sitting room passed by under his feet, as cozy and comforting as ever. The fire flickered, drawing him closer with its soothing, mesmerizing warmth.
He walked the room once, his eyes scanning the walls. No other doors - not unless he wanted to return to his chambers, or head to the Library’s entrance. No way out.
Nowhere else to look.
She’d come back. With exhaustion pressing down on him more with every passing second, Daniel clambered up onto his chair. He’d wait there. When she came back, he’d be right there waiting.
His eyelids drooped lower, filling his head with fog.
He’d be right there.
As long as it took.
* * * * *
Jean never came back.
The days slipped by, each one passing a little more easily than the one before. At first, Daniel was numb, little more than a ghost passing through the halls. Somehow, he kept walking. Kept taking books from carts, filing them away on shelves.
Each time he saw another figure standing among the books, his pulse raced. There she was, his thoughts would cry. And each time, another instant would reveal the glow rising from their skin, and his heart would sink.
But each time, talking to them got a little easier. Hearing their voices helped. Talking to another human soul made him feel a little more human himself. His eyes still turned down each room he passed, searching. She had to be somewhere, he told himself. She was out there. He just needed to find her.
Somehow.
He didn’t notice the clock slowly turning over the mantle, bringing each of the elegantly-worked hourglasses into alignment. He didn’t notice the sand dripping out, emptying steadily.
He just walked, doing the only thing he could - what Jean had asked of him. He’d tend the Library. She’d see how well he’d done, when she came back.
And that night, as the last grain of sand drained from the clock, he let himself crumple to the floor, leaning against a bookshelf for support. He’d rest for a minute, he told himself. Just for a minute.
The smell of leather and parchment wafted over him. His thoughts clouded, pulling him deeper and deeper under the waves.
Just for a minute.
* * * * *
Something beeped, loud and strident and completely foreign. A sharp smell filled his nostrils, astringent, and he coughed. His chest ached. His lungs burned.
He winced, rolling slowly. Something caught his hand, pulling him back with a lance of pain.
“Oh!” he heard a distant voice say. “Oh, no. Lie still, sweetheart.”
A hand pressed against his shoulder, sliding him back down. He cracked his eyes open, feeling as though they’d been sewn shut. A figure loomed before him. A woman, half-hidden in shadow but dressed in blue.
“There,” she said, and he saw her smile. “Hold still, okay?”
And then she vanished, and he shuddered. His head spun, sending the world into dizzying waves.
“Claire!” he heard her say, somewhere far-off. “Call Dr. Stevens for me, would you?”
Through the pain and confusion, despite the hideous screeching and the distance that grew between her and him with every passing second, he heard the triumph filling her voice.
“Daniel’s fever just broke.”
- Chapter Ten -
“It’s okay, sweetie.”
A hand stroked his forehead, slow and soft and tender. The woman smiled down at him, tears gleaming in her butterscotch-brown eyes.
It wasn’t just her, though. Figures bustled this way and that, filling the edges of his vision with dizzying movement. Voices called to each other. Machines beeped. Phones rang.
Daniel sagged against the pillows, completely at a loss. Ice pumped through his veins. Questions swirled in his mind, but one rose to the forefront again and again. Where?
Where was he? Just a moment ago, he’d been in the quiet, and now...now everywhere he turned was chaos and noise, more than he’d heard in his whole life.
Where was the Library? Where had it gone? His eyes burned, his hands clenching around the blankets that wrapped him. It’d always been there, as alive as him or Jean or any of their guests. But now...it was like he’d been scooped away, torn free and set adrift in a strange world.
The hand stroking his forehead stopped, fingertips pressing gently into his skin. “No, no,” he heard the woman croon. “Everything’s fine now, Danny. I’m here. Just...sleep, okay?”
A figure bustled closer, clad in blue, and the woman withdrew - a step, no more. Her eyes stayed glued to him the entire time.
Why? Who was she, and why had she hung from him since the moment he woke up? Daniel stared back, his brow furrowed.
He...knew her. The thought rose in his mind unbidden, but he couldn’t push it away so easily. She knew him, and she was worried about him, and he didn’t know why but he knew her too. How? Who was she?
A man stepped up alongside the woman, his face familiar in the same infuriating way as hers. A smile broke across his face as he glanced to Daniel, filled with relief.
Nothing made sense anymore. Daniel closed his eyes, willing everything to...to stop, and give him a single moment’s rest. His head ached, like someone had hit him with a pole. His skin burned, prickling at the touch of the nurse.
His vision blurred. He tried to fight for a moment, twitching and squirming, but there was no winning.
With the oddly-familiar couple lingering in his sight, Daniel gave up, rolling away and praying things would be normal when he felt like himself again.
* * * * *
Time passed in a blur.
So many rooms, so many doctors. We don’t know what happened to your son, he heard them say. We’re so sorry. We’ll have to run more tests.
Each time, the couple nodded, squeezing Daniel’s hands more tightly.
Son. The word rang in his head, totally and completely wrong. If the doctors were calling him their son, then...then that’d make them his parents.
But that was impossible. He’d never seen them before.
It didn’t matter how hard his mind clawed at the details, trying to force the world to slow down. They slipped by, racing faster and faster as though spiting his efforts. His head cleared with every passing minute. The fog faded, leaving him feeling clearer than he’d ever been before.
There was a window in his room. The sky outside was blue - not a trace of grey fog to blur out the details. Looking out onto the world he’d arrived in, he watched birds flap and circle, entranced.
One floated on black wings, cawing angrily. His breath caught, his chest tightening.
But he couldn’t resist chancing another glance once the crow flapped away.
The first night, after the halls of the hospital went dark and he was finally left to his lonesome, Daniel closed his eyes.
He opened them to familiar rows of bookshelves, leather tomes stretching high to the rafters overhead. For a time, everything seemed normal. He wandered the halls, tending to the Library’s needs as was his duty. He guided Dreamers, his confidence restoring with every day that passed.
Alexandria hadn’t abandoned him. It was still here - he was still here, walking among the texts and wearing his leather overcoat. He hadn’t lost everything.
Each time he went into his quarters, though, a heavy, solid bookshelf standing by the door burned in his vision. He slowed each morning and each night, fresh pain kindling in his heart.
Journals, Jean had said. Relics from the previous Librarians. Including her, he had to assume.
It was too much. The hurt was too fresh. The journals stayed where they lay, untouched and slowly gathering dust.
The respite passed quickly, though. It felt like only a
heartbeat had passed when he woke again on the far side.
More rooms. More doctor, but no answers to be had. His outside existence became a whirlwind pressing in around him, with the Library remaining his one, unknown escape.
The clock over the mantle spun. He watched it twirl one lonely evening, the sand pouring out faster than it ever had before. Why? Was it because...because he was alone? Because Jean wasn’t here, and they had no guests?
Alexandria is alive, in her own way. Jean’s voice whispered in his ear. He whipped around, gasping for air.
The sitting room was empty.
She’ll look after you. Her voice continued, unruffled. He could see her smile, see the twinkle in her green eyes. She’s yours, and you’re hers. She’ll always protect you, Daniel.
He stared at the two armchairs, his pulse racing, but no other words came.
Right. He was alone.
It’s just your imagination, he whispered silently to himself. Just a mirage.
But the clock spun, and the days whipped past, and he found himself waking again and again on the other side. The hospital passed in a blur, melding together until finally he found himself wheeled out the front door to where a beat-up sedan waited. As he stood, stumbling away from the wheelchair, he knew it.
For the first time, he was free. The whole world lay open before him. The real world.
All he had to do was take it.
His trips into the Library took on new purpose, a new drive. Out there, he was still...a child, he supposed. Small. Within Alexandria’s walls, even if their guests didn’t take him seriously, he was still the Librarian. Out there?
Daniel was trapped. There was no way for him to show how far beyond his ‘age’ he was, not without exposing himself. Not without leaving an opening for all the hungry mages to track him through.
But he wouldn’t stay helpless. He had time now. He’d learn, enough to keep ahead of their eyes. Enough to ensure that once he was of age, no one would ever treat him lightly again.
It was hard to draw himself upright when he was still child-sized, but he did his best. And then he threw himself back into his studies with renewed vigor.
