The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1)

by Casey White

  But her grave was alone, no partner alongside her. Maybe she’d simply gone first, he reasoned. Maybe somewhere out there, a Mr. Morris clung to life, ancient and wrinkled.

  Looking at the disheveled grave, though, he knew that no one had been here in years.

  He leaned forward, gritting his teeth, and started to work. If he’d have known, he’d have brought a rake. He’d have brought gloves, or sturdy shoes, or anything that might have helped him. He didn’t. But the job needed doing anyway.

  Weeds crumpled under his hand as he grabbed one after another. The leaves, he mashed up in his fist, dumping them back into the woods. It didn’t look...it didn’t look good, but little by little, her grave returned to ‘passable’.

  When he’d done all he could, Daniel flopped down onto the grass, folding his legs up. He stared at the ground, his thoughts in turmoil.

  Finally, he lifted his eyes to the marker.

  Jean’s name stared back at him - just her name, and her dates. It didn’t tell him a damn thing about who she was, or what she’d liked, or why she’d let things get to the point she had to settle for a random boy she stole from his family instead of a proper apprentice.

  But those few details were all he had.

  Daniel licked his lips, feeling heat spread across his cheeks. “Um,” he said. Christ, why had he come here? What was he supposed to do? “Hi. I guess.”

  An irritated noise burst from his lips as he buried his face in his hands. He, a grown-ass adult who’d spent his entire life in the pursuit of knowledge in all its forms, was here talking to a stone. A fucking piece of rock. He should just- He should leave. Go home. Get on with his day.

  But he was here. He’d come all the way out to this wooded corner in the middle of nowhere, and he might as well finish what he started. “Okay,” Daniel said, dropping his hands to his knees and fixing his eyes on the etched-out Jean Morris. His face was glowing, he knew, but to hell with it. “I swear to god, if you’re laughing at me up there, I’m going to- I’ll- I’ll do something.”

  The marker didn’t laugh at him. He took a deep breath, squeezing his hands a little tighter. “I...I just wanted to see you,” he mumbled. “Something like that. Or not...not you, but...as close as I could get. I wanted to know you were real. That you were here.”

  His fingers traced out the seams of his jeans, curling under the lip of the fabric. “I’m not okay with things. It’s bullshit. I’m mad at you.” Daniel pursed his lips. His eyes were dark, glued to the letters on the marker. “You were trying to save...her.” Even out here, with only distant mourners as spectators, he couldn’t bring himself to say the name. “But it’s bullshit. And...yeah. I just wanted you to know that. You’re kind of a bitch.”

  The leaves rustled overhead. Daniel’s eyes dropped. “But I get it,” he whispered. “And...I just wanted to find you.” He nodded, chewing on his lip. “I’m not going to let someone else get fucked over like me,” he said at last. “No matter what it takes. No matter if- if things have to change. This can’t happen again. So...wish me luck.” His eyes burned. Quietly, barely audible, he added, “I...I still miss you. Sometimes.”

  He forced a smile, letting the tension bleed from his limbs as the wind swept past. It was still beautiful out, still sunny with an undertone of warmth to the air. Soon enough, winter would fall again, and everything would go cold.

  But it was still warm enough to enjoy the moment.

  Daniel leaned back, letting himself sprawl across the grass. It was weird, his thoughts whispered. Whenever he was in Alexandria, he fought and scrabbled for every ounce of freedom he could get. He’d wrangle whatever he could if it meant he’d leave Alexandria a little earlier.

  And then, when he got out, he’d do...this. Sit under the sun, looking up at the impossibly-endless sky. Listen to birds fly by overhead. Let the sounds of other living things fill the air around him.

  He smiled, closing his eyes against the blinding sunlight.

  The minutes ticked past, drifting away without a care. Daniel lay there. He didn’t have anything to say, not really. Nothing that he hadn’t already. But it felt nice to be there, next to the tangible proof that he wasn’t just insane, that he hadn’t dreamt her up.

  Finally, just when he was right on the verge of falling asleep entirely, his phone chirped.

  Daniel opened his eyes.

  With a groan, he pushed himself back to sitting, and dug in his pocket. Crows’ feet appeared at the corners of his eyes at the sight of notification after notification waiting for him. Right. His friends. Lucas and Nate.

  He could remember them. It’d...It’d been a while. A week or two on the outside.

  And a decade or more for him.

  Daniel stared down at the phone, motionless. He could answer them. He should answer them. They’d been friends for years, now. At a minimum, he should stay polite.

  But he couldn’t quite mask the twinge of disappointment that’d come over him when he saw the messenger notification, rather than a message, from...other people.

  His hand tightened about the phone. He’d made another risky play, before he left the Library. He’d given James and Leon a number - his number. It was just a burner, he’d reasoned. There was nothing associated with the phone number that could lead back to him, and...with all that he was learning about mages and demibloods and all the bullshit that went on behind the scenes, he couldn’t help it. He was worried.

  He’d be damned if he’d let Leon or James or Maya get caught in the crossfire of someone coming after the Librarian. If shit went sideways, he wanted them to have some way to let him know.

  Just that quickly, though, he’d let himself get his hopes up, let himself dream of getting contacted by someone who knew him.

  And just like that, he’d had his old relationships thrown back in his face. He should contact them back - and yet, the thought of putting on his Dan mask again, of smiling and playing along with them, felt...cheap. They were his friends, but only up to a point. They were a stand-in, an audience for him to play-act a normal college-age guy for.

  He couldn’t. He wanted more than that.

  His thumb danced over the phone’s screen, keying up the messenger. Lucas and Nate’s conversation waited there - cheerful and bright, just like always. An invitation to something-or-other, tomorrow night.

  Daniel hesitated. And then he typed out his response. Something short and sweet. A polite refusal. Already had plans, and all that. He snorted. It was probably the first time in their friendship he’d declined a meet-up.

  And then he slid his phone back into his pocket.

  He turned back to the gravestone, his moment of dark humor fleeing as fast as it’d arrived. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “I’m not done with you yet.”

  With a groan, Daniel pushed himself back to standing.

  The rows of headstones crept past as he began the long, slow walk back to his car.

  * * * * *

  Owl walked.

  The Library seemed even quieter than usual. There was hardly a squeak of floorboards to mark his passage, only the faintest rustling of his coat’s hem as it billowed behind him.

  Alexandria was waiting. He could feel it - the stillness of the air, the sensation that the whole place was holding its breath.

  He chuckled, leaning over to knock his head against one of the bookshelves. “Calm down,” he said. “You’d think it’s your first damn time getting a visitor.”

  Even those brief words rang out too loud against the quiet. Every nerve in his body quivered, as though a grey-haired old hag with horn-rim glasses was about to leap out and shriek at him to keep his voice down.

  He was alone, of course. If he wasn’t, the place wouldn’t feel like it did.

  Owl reached up all the same, running his gloved hands over his hood, the collar of his coat. Both were right where they should be, buttoned up snug. He tugged on his mask, and the reassuring firmness of the straps tugged back.

&
nbsp; He was set. He was good. So stop worrying about it, he hissed - both to himself and to Alexandria.

  Something caught his eye as he walked on - a set of books stacked on the corner of a table. He turned toward them automatically, sighing at the sight. There were so few. “You know, if you want to keep me busy, you should actually give me some work to do,” he muttered.

  There was no helping it. He grabbed the first one off the stack, turning to the shelves. He’d already packed up his own work, shuttling Crow’s journal and his notes on magic into his personal quarters. The final act before he left his office behind was to set shutters over the barred windows, blocking the interior from sight entirely.

  Maybe it was overkill. Okay, it was almost certainly overkill. But he was the Librarian, and there were strange things afoot. If there was any question about someone being in the Library with ill intent, then he had to take every precaution. His office was secure. His room was more secure.

  Another book off the stack. He slowed, grabbing the remaining few. “I get it,” he said, smothering a grunt as the weight hit his arms. “You’re anxious too. But-” He shoved them onto an empty shelf one after another. “Giving me fifty million short tasks isn’t any better than one meaty job, Alex.”

  The Library groaned in response, filling the air with the creaking of wood.

  Owl made a face, leaning against the shelf beside him. “Or would you rather I-”

  Bells screamed out overhead. Owl jumped, springing back to bolt-upright before he’d even processed the noise. His limbs quivered as he stood frozen, a statute among the books.

  Don’t be surprised, his thoughts screamed. You knew it was coming.

  He nodded, swallowing hard. Right. He had. And now...it was time.

  “Well, Alex,” Owl said, lifting his eyes to the skylights. “Wish me luck.”

  The bells continued their song as he turned, striding back through the wing.

  As he walked, his hands roamed his coat, his hood, his mask. It didn’t matter that he’d checked it all before - everything had to be perfect. He wouldn’t let himself be exposed, not when the guildmaster’s assistant was coming in. That sounded like a great way to get himself hunted down by frustrated scholars. But every button his fingers explored was tightly-fastened. Every strap pulled snug.

  He gave up as the double doors of the entryway appeared before him, the lanterns flickering merrily. His hands fell to his sides. Owl hesitated a moment longer, taking a deep breath.

  When he eased the door open, his guests looked up.

  “Sorry,” he said, flashing a smile they’d never see. “Am I late?”

  His eyes drifted over them, taking stock. Olivia he already knew, her honey-colored hair damp in patches and her eyes gleaming. Her partner...Owl eyed him a moment longer. Will, the forms had said. Will looked like a strong wind might snap him in half, rising over Olivia in an ungainly mess of gangly limbs and limp brown hair.

  As though sensing Owl’s eyes on him, he smiled, only a little nervously. “H-Hi. Um. Thanks for having us, sir.”

  “Owl,” Owl said, the words sliding out on automatic. “Librarian, if you’re feeling extra-formal, but Owl works just fine. Not sir. Never sir.”

  Will flushed, stiffening. “Shit,” Owl heard him mumble. “S-Sorry. I-”

  “I told you,” Olivia said, bounding forward until she stood right in front of Owl. “I told you I’d get inside sooner or later.” She flashed him a grin that spread from ear to ear.

  “I suppose,” Owl said.

  “That means I win.”

  “Is it really a contest?”

  She thrust a hand back toward Will, waggling her fingers. “C’mon, Will. He’s not...He’s just dressed a little weird.”

  “Hey,” Owl said.

  “Olivia...” Will said, and his eyes darted up to Owl’s mask. “I’m...sorry about Olivia, Librarian. She’s a little excited.”

  “I’m getting that impression,” Owl said dryly.

  “Don’t give me that,” Olivia mumbled, her cheeks starting to glow. “I just- can we go in?” Her embarrassment disappeared in an instant, her exuberance returning. “I could hardly fall asleep at all. Can I-”

  “Hold up,” Owl said, snagging her elbow as she tried to dart past him. “Let me stamp you.”

  “O-Oh,” Olivia said. Her eyes went wide, and she nodded, going still again. “Right. Sorry.”

  Will shifted behind her, pressing a hand to his face. “Jesus Christ.”

  “It’ll just take a minute,” Owl said. He bit back a laugh at the look on Olivia’s face. She was trying so damn hard, at least, fighting to keep her expression neutral, but her eye kept twitching. “Sit tight for like thirty seconds here.”

  “I get it,” she said. “No problem.”

  Owl stepped past them, chuckling to himself. No problem - but he got the impression if he turned his back for more than a few seconds, she’d charge straight on in. The rack of cards waited on the wall, with two already slotted in and ready to go. He pulled them free, turning back before Olivia could do something stupid.

  From there, it was all straightforward. He’d done guest registration so many times it had become something of a ritual - take the cards from the wall. Hold them out to their visitors, offer a pen. Watch as they signed their names on the bottom. Take them back, with a polite thank-you.

  Always polite. Wouldn’t do to ruin their good reputation. His gaze lingered on Olivia as he took back the card, though, and he sighed. Something told him that politeness would be pushed to its very limits over the course of this stay.

  “Your application said three months, yes?” Owl said, reaching for the stamp from its nook on the wall.

  Olivia nodded, clasping her hands in front of her. “Right. Yes.” She smiled up at him, her demeanor entirely different from a few moments before. “I thought- I wanted to dip my toes in. But...I’d be so sad if the door was closed to me on my very first trip.”

  “Fine,” Owl said, nodding. “You’ll still have to apply again, you understand.”

  When Olivia nodded her understanding, he rolled the stamp across the pad of ink - and pressed it to the sheets in front of him, one box at a time.

  Two tiny, red-stained books twinkled back up at him.

  “That’s that,” he said, nudging past them to stash the cards and stamp in their places.

  When he turned for the door, walking past Will and Olivia, they stood motionless. Will kept glancing between Olivia and Owl - but Olivia might as well have been carved from stone. Was it too much for her? Or is she just trying to be proper? He snorted. It’s a little late for that.

  Owl’s hand closed about the handle, twisting the latch. It gave way with a groan, opening to the Library beyond. A gust of cool, dusty air swirled through the entryway.

  Olivia blinked, coming back to herself with the touch of it. Her eyes darted back to Owl, who chuckled softly.

  “Coming?” he said.

  - Chapter Thirty-Three -

  Owl leaned back, letting the plush depths of the chair swallow him whole.

  So far as mornings went, this one wasn’t half bad. The fire in the hearth was warm, but not overbearing. The bitter tang of coffee brewing swirled about him, filling the air like a blanket. On any other morning, he’d have shucked his boots right off and let his toes sink into the carpet.

  This wasn’t any other morning, and he wasn’t in a position to do that. And so he settled for trying to bury himself in the chair, watching the fire crackle.

  A door creaked behind him. He leaned forward far enough to peer around toward the noise.

  Olivia stepped from her room, masking a yawn. One eye cracked open far enough to see him - and she twisted her fingers into a pathetic wave. “H-Hey,” she croaked, squeezing out the words. “You’re up early. Again. Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “I get plenty of rest,” Owl said dryly. “It’s all in your head, anyway. If you expect to wake up feeling like a superstar, you will.”

&nbs
p; Olivia froze. “Wait, really? It’s that simple?”

  He leaned back again, folding his arms. “You probably sleep like shit outside, don’t you?”

  “You have no proof of that.” He heard her crossing the sitting room unsteadily. “Maybe.”

  “Then that’s what you’re expecting,” Owl said. “Fix your head, woman.”

  His innermost thoughts shrieked to life, bellowing that he was being rude - and yet, it’d only been a week since their guests entered, and already Owl had figured out it didn’t seem to matter how he responded to the guildmember. In fact, Olivia seemed to thrive on the back-and-forth they shared.

  Right on cue, he heard her chuckle, followed by a clink of glass against metal. “Coffee?” she said.

  “I’m good.”

  The sound of liquid being poured into a mug rose across the sitting room. “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  Another clink. “I’d have thought someone like you would love coffee.”

  Owl bit back a groan. “Someone like me?”

  “The Librarian. Surrounded by books.” He heard her chuckle. “You’re kind of like one of those forever-students, right? The sort who keep going back for more and more degrees because it’s all they know?”

  “Oof,” he said, letting his head roll to the side. She was leaning against the counter, cradling the mug in her hands. “I like coffee, you know. I’m not a kid.”

  “So why-” She stopped, understanding igniting in her eyes. “Is it the mask?”

  “Have you tried drinking through clay?” Owl said dryly. “Not so easy.”

  “Have you tried a straw?” Olivia countered.

  Owl stared at Olivia. She stared back at him.

  She broke first, clapping a hand over her mouth to almost-hide the snort that slipped out. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry, sorry. But seriously-”

  “Drink your damn coffee,” Owl said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine. You should hurry up and finish before-”

  Another creak of wood and hinges. Both of them turned. The door beyond Olivia’s was opening. Will slunk out, his hair a mess of snarls.