by Casey White
Slowly, with exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders, he let his breath slide out. He’d be there soon enough.
But not like this.
Turning on his heel, he pushed back through the doors.
His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he walked on, his hands rising. The gloves came off with a quick tug, to be dropped in one of his massive pockets. The buckles holding his mask on were more of a challenge, cold to the touch and bound tight.
He worked them loose, still floating along as though in a trance. The feeling of the last strap working free sent a fresh shiver of relief through him.
Another door swung open before him, and he stepped through, pulling his mask off in the same motion.
Two chairs sat before the fireplace of the sitting room, right where they’d always been. Daniel sighed at the sight, his shoulders drooping. His mask fell to the table.
Daniel dropped into his customary seat, then, pulling the collar of his jacket open. A frigid breeze blasted through the room, slipping right under the freshly-loosened leather and whipping the fire into a mess of sparks.
“Okay,” he said quietly, leaning forward and trying to ignore the pointed chill washing through the Library. “Let’s...look. Let’s just talk, okay?”
It was difficult to tell, but he thought the cold breeze faltered just a little.
Daniel chuckled sourly, lifting his chin and gazing straight into the flames. “You’re mad at me,” he said. “I just don’t understand why.”
The wind picked up again, blowing harder. The chandelier overhead swayed, every scrap of glass in it rattling.
Daniel held a hand up. The wind stopped. “I’m not an idiot,” he mumbled. “This all started...back with that outsider. It’s about him, isn’t it?”
Somewhere, distantly, a wind chime started singing in the breeze.
Daniel snorted, hanging his head. “This would be easier if you would just talk to me, you know.” He really needed to devise some sort of AI, craft a way for her to talk more directly. When no message appeared, he groaned, tearing at his hair. “Look. I...All I can see is this. You don’t like me looking for this Leon guy. You don’t like me hunting for intruders. But, they’re not supposed to be here, Alex. It’s dangerous. So why-”
A log inside the fire exploded angrily, popping with a burst of moisture. Sparks cascaded from the fireplace to trail across the tile and carpet.
“Why would you do it?” Daniel said, unfazed. “Because you did, didn’t you? You let him in. That’s why you’re so angry when I...” He groaned, making a face. “When I hunted after him. I mean, yeah, I was a little aggressive, but that’s my job. It’s why I’m here.”
The wind screamed through the sitting room, ice-cold and sharp enough to cut to the bone. Daniel jumped, hunching his shoulders against the sudden chill.
A picture frame rattled from the wall alongside the mantle. He lifted his eyes - and laughed.
The paper contained within the metal-and-glass home was ancient, penned in an elegant script by some long-forgotten Librarian. The words within remained as stark and vibrant as ever, despite their age.
Allow none within these walls to be harmed.
“Yeah, I get it,” Daniel said, pressing a hand to his face. “I wasn’t going to hurt Leon, you know. That’s...that’s not the point. He seems innocent - but, if he lets slip, if anyone else out there finds out, it could be awful.” His lips pressed together tightly, his worries mounting. “And if anyone else comes in, too...I didn’t want to hurt him. Really. I was just trying to handle this.” A crooked grin tugged at his lips, transforming his expression. “And it would just be the two of us here, you know. So there’s no harm.”
Again, the mighty timbers of the Library groaned, as though the whole building was settling. A sigh? Was it frustrated? Had he missed something? The breeze warmed, though, losing the edge of its cold and caressing his face like a hand. The cushioned chair wrapped around him, hugging him more tightly.
Daniel only shook his head, letting it droop forward. “Look...I’m sorry, okay?” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to take a rough hand with him. I was just worried. If you really want to let him in...I’ll talk to him, next time. Really talk. So...”
He clasped his hands in front of him, wrapped about each other so tightly his knuckles shone white. “Please let me go,” he whispered. “I’m tired of fighting.”
The soft scrape of porcelain against wood brought his thoughts screeching to a stop. His head lifted - and turned.
A mug waited on the table beside him, steaming in the cold air. With every breath he took, the breeze slowed, then stopped entirely, letting the warmth of the fire begin to suffuse the room again.
Daniel reached out, wrapping his hands about the mug and drawing it in closer. The smell of hot chocolate filled his senses, filling his world like a liquid hug. It was as good as the Library could manage for an apology, he knew. Smiling, he lifted it to his lips.
The rich taste of it lingered on his tongue when he took the first sip, soaking through his mouth and warming him to his core. But something in him shuddered at the taste, lingering just out of reach.
He paused, still cradling the cup, and furrowed his brow. What was it? He’d had hot chocolate before, certainly. But now, here in the sitting room...it was like being slapped in the face with a wall of deja vu, hopelessly disconnected from any memory he could find and yet too strong to push away.
In that moment, with the taste of chocolate in his mouth and the warmth of the fire against his face, something inside of him screamed for attention. He lifted the mug for another sip and-
And lurched, grabbing for the arm of the chair as the world spun around him. His mouth fell open, his vision twisting wildly.
Exhaustion rushed in from the edges of his senses, pushing against his limbs like lead. He reeled, trying to shake it from his head, and raised the mug toward the table alongside him.
It fell to the carpet instead, toppling over and spilling its contents everywhere.
Daniel hit the ground a heartbeat later, helpless against whatever was sweeping through him. The whispers in his head screamed louder, shrieking that something was wrong.
Somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been here before.
In that moment, though, the weariness taking over him was a relief, the confirmation he’d been waiting for that he wouldn’t be trapped in Alexandria forever. Daniel smiled, his eyes misting over, and gave up on trying to fight it.
“Be back...soon,” he whispered, laying his cheek flat against the soft fibers. The fire burned in his vision, melting everything away with its orange warmth.
As the last of the Library blurred to nothing around him, he felt the weight of a blanket settle over his body.
- Chapter Sixteen -
Reality came back blurred, hazy waves, tainted by the unmistakable ache of a brewing hangover. Daniel hissed, wincing and turning away from the brilliant mid-morning light that shone even through his closed eyelids. His hand came up, rubbing at his temple.
The sheets wrapped around him were...coarse. Cheap. His breath caught in his throat - and then, slowly, he smiled.
Alexandria would never look after him so poorly. Which meant-
His eyes opened at last, and he drank in the sight of the hazy motel room that sprawled before him. He exhaled. Right. Right. He’d come here after the bar, together with-
His hand twitched, closing about empty air. Already knowing what he’d find, Daniel turned.
The bed beside him lay empty, with the sheets rumpled and still showing a divot.
“Guess not,” he whispered, flopping back. She was gone, then. Whatever-her-name, the one he’d wooed away from her friends. He should’ve known better. Someone like her wouldn’t hang around with strange men she’d only just met, not for long. “Ah, well.”
Not the first time, he told himself. And not the last. But it’d been fun all the same.
Pushing himself upright with a groa
n, Daniel set about finding the scattered pieces of his wardrobe he’d so hastily discarded an evening and a year’s time before.
* * * * *
“Yeah, I know,” Daniel said, trudging back up the sidewalk. “I told you I’d be there on Saturday. I’ll be there.” His eyes darted up, searching the mid-morning scene. It wasn’t far back to the bar, at least. His fingers tightened around his phone, pressed to his ear. “So, it’s good. I’ll-”
“You’re sure? That wouldn’t interrupt your work?”
“No, mom,” he said, smothering a sigh. “I said I’d be there.”
The phone line crackled, still and silent. His steps slowed, his thoughts freezing as he waited for her response.
“Okay,” she said at last, but her voice was small and uncertain. “I guess.”
Daniel stopped, then, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Just- it’ll be fine. I’ll be over for lunch. I can help with whatever you need then. Okay?”
“...Yeah. Sounds good.”
Her voice hadn’t changed at all, despite her apparent agreement. His eyes tightened.
“Is...everything going okay, Dan?” She’d gotten quieter
He forced a smile onto his face, knowing she couldn’t see it. “It’s fine, mom. Things are going great. I got another gig lined up.”
“Oh?” The relief filling her voice was so blatant it hurt. “Oh, good. I’m glad. Look, I was talking with Mr. Padilla, and he’s really looking for someone else to run the shop with him. I was thinking, maybe you could-”
“Mom, I’m fine,” Daniel said, all but grinding his teeth together. He could see things from her perspective, at least - it had to worry her that her only son had turned into a freelancer, rather than go the college-to-salary route she’d always hoped for.
She didn’t need to know what he was really doing for money. She’d have questions, just like everyone else. But she wasn’t stupid, either, and she had to be able to feel the way he held back a little every time the subject came up. She was his mother, after all.
He’d always read that mothers had that kind of connection with their children. Surely some of that held true, even between them.
Back then, even as a child, he’d known he couldn’t tell her the truth. If he started spouting off about strange libraries and women in bird masks, they’d have thought he was insane. If he said he couldn’t remember, though, she’d march him straight back to the hospital. Every fiber of his being screamed to keep quiet, to play along. He was just a kid, after all. A very, very sick one, but still a kid. Surely, if he acted the part, they’d write off his strangeness for long enough to get his feet under him.
It’d worked better than he could have hoped - but while he’d saved himself from being labeled an amnesiac invalid, his relationship with his parents had never blossomed. Not really. She was his mother, and filled the role of constancy within his real-world visits together with his father. He loved her. That wouldn’t change.
But something was missing. Something was broken. And their relationship was something he didn’t know how to fix.
“I know you’re fine,” she said, her dry humor cutting over the top of his thoughts. “Let me worry, okay?”
Daniel chuckled. “Right.” His eyes perked up. Something lay ahead, peeking around the corner of the building he approached. His car, still parked across from the pub from the night before. Good. “Look, mom, I gotta go. I’ll be there, okay? Don’t start moving stuff without me.”
“Of course,” his mother said, laughing darkly. “Who else is going to lift the couch?”
He winced, focusing in on his rapidly-approaching vehicle. “Okay. I gotta-”
“Love you, Dan.”
A wry smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “Love you too, mom. Say hi to dad for me.”
“I will.” You could always call him yourself. The words hung under her sentence, commonly-spoken enough that he no longer needed to hear them vocalized to know she was thinking it. And he did. Sometimes. When he remembered to. The rest of the time...
If their relationship was dysfunctional, well, it was his fault as much as anyone’s.
Before she could say another word, he pulled the phone from his face, tapping the end call button. His screen went dark.
The headlights flashed as he approached his sedan. It didn’t look like much on the outside, which really didn’t help with getting the time of day out of any of his prospective romances, but it was cheap and reliable. That was all he could ask for, at the end of the day.
The engine roared to life. Daniel paused a moment, eyeing the bar. It’d been...fun, last time. Maybe he could get the guys back out here tonight. He snorted, shaking his head. Pester them too often, and they’d start thinking he was desperate.
He wasn’t that needy. Just a bit.
Shifting into drive, he pulled out of his spot and accelerated away from town.
* * * * *
The road was familiar, and the sun shining down from overhead lulled him into a fugue. Daniel hardly watched the road, navigating around each corner on automatic. He had a day - a whole day, with no grand plans.
What would he do this time?
Reality snapped back as he glanced up, realizing the driveway of his house lay straight ahead. He smiled faintly, pulling closer. Just like the car, it wasn’t much to look at - just a slightly-aging, freshly-painted slump of a ranch.
Unlike the car, though, the house was more than it looked like. The warnings he’d been told his whole life had stuck, and he wasn’t about to leave himself unguarded just because of flimsy excuses like “you always wear a mask” and “no one knows your real name”.
The security system he keyed in through was discreet but top-of-the line, freshly upgraded. Daniel smiled as it cleared him, and pushed through into the room beyond.
As the door slid shut behind him, he exhaled, then dropped his coat to the couch and trudged to the back office. He should work on the trading he needed to get done. He knew he should work - and yet, the sun was shining outside. The sky was blue. There were birds in the trees.
If he’d spent the night in the house instead of a damn Motel 6, he’d already have gotten his work done. He’d be running wild by now.
Of course, he’d also be letting some random woman from a bar into his house, and he knew better than that. And so he winced, stretching his arms out, and nudged the PC to life.
The screen lit up. Graphs and charts filled every square inch of display. Daniel groaned again, burying his face in his palm.
Sooner done, sooner over. Gritting his teeth and forcing his eyes back open, he dropped his hands to the keyboard.
Slowly at first, but accelerating rapidly, he started to type.
* * * * *
Enough.
Daniel sagged, letting his head roll back. There. He’d fixed the error in his model, bringing his outside financials up to date with the predictions he’d made inside Alexandria. He wouldn’t lose any money, now.
It was enough.
The computer shut down with a jab of a key. He was on his feet before the fans finished whirring down, all but dashing from the room.
Another scant few minutes saw him fleeing out the back door, grabbing the bike propped there and swinging onto its frame.
Only when he was blasting along down a side road did he let his breath slide out, savoring the feeling of the wind in his long, tied-back hair.
Almost imperceptibly, his eyes slid up to the endlessly blue sky overhead.
Your sky, eh? He smiled faintly, pedaling harder. He’d put his foot in it. Lenny had seemed like a good enough type, if you ignored the whole ‘reckless chemist’ aspect. That didn’t mean Daniel had wanted to lay himself bare like that.
Something flashed down the side of the embankment running alongside the road - a flicker of silver, running amidst the brown and green. Daniel hit the brakes, leaping from the bike and dropping it into the grass.
One step after another, he slipped down toward the l
onely river.
“Anything?” he murmured under his breath, pulling his phone free and giving it another look as he settled against the grass.
But the screen staring up at him was blank and empty, devoid of any messages or pleas for his presence. It was only fair, his thoughts whispered. They’re busy. They’ve got other stuff. Be patient.
Right then, with the sun on his skin and the breeze ruffling his unhooded, unmasked hair, patient was something he could be. Daniel stretched out, weaving his fingers through the blades of grass. The grass was softer here, somehow. It was real, in a way that Alexandria couldn’t hope to replicate.
Soft grass and warm sunlight couldn’t quash the bewilderment that slowly filled him up, though, the lingering sense of dread. One day - that was all he’d get before he went back inside for another round.
What the hell was he supposed to do with one day?
“I should find something, huh?” he whispered to himself, letting his eyes slide shut. But what the hell did he have to offer? He didn’t have a useful specialty, besides for the know-how he’d honed to keep himself afloat. But there had to be something.
Another day. He’d figure an answer out later. His head rolled back, his chest rising and settling. He could nap - that much, he knew from experience. He wouldn’t be snatched back inside just like that. Alexandria was stubborn, but not unfair. He’d have until night fell, at a minimum.
The thought of wasting even an hour on a nap appalled him, but then again, a day like this could hardly be considered a waste. He smiled, rolling to bury his face in the soft green.
His phone beeped. His eyes snapped open. It might’ve been five minutes, or three hours. He couldn’t quite tell. Blinking away the bleariness, he keyed the screen on.
Nate’s name shone down at him. Exam went like shit. Scores don’t come back yet, but he’s a wreck anyway. Wanna come help distract him?
