I expected to see the kind of library the witches had – with the elegant wingback chairs, meandering bookshelves, and mushroom lights. That’s not what I got. I got a standard library. It was obviously an archival room, too, as the books weren’t on display, but were rather stored in compactors.
The compactors were these large, old, gray and green monstrosities that looked as if they were out of the ‘70s.
I kind of expected to see witches and wizards trotting about the library, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. In fact, it was eerily silent.
“Come on,” Max said as he pressed me forward, his body tense, every muscle as taut as rope.
We didn’t have a plan, and I knew why – Max didn’t expect we’d need one. Max just thought by getting me here he’d solve the problem. Because my magic would do the rest. Why plan for the future when you can just use your abilities to see it?
“Chi,” he whispered my name so softly, I almost had to press my face against his lips to pick it up. “Where is he? Where is he?”
It was time.
I curled my hand into the tightest fist I could manage, my nails grinding hard into my palm. Finally, reluctantly, I called on my ability. I reached out to the fireflies, and they snapped towards me like rabbit traps.
But that would be when I heard a gasp from across the side of the room. It was sharp enough and quick enough that it caught my attention, made my eyes open.
“Someone’s over there,” Max growled by my ear as he hooked an arm underneath mine and pulled me along.
The vision was almost forming before my eyes, but it had been interrupted, and I used my will to push it back. I had to keep my teeth gritted and my hands tightly curled, but I managed it.
Max and I ran towards the gasp.
The compactors made the library like a maze. Some of them were open, and some of them were closed. As we ran along them, I had visions of the compactors turning on and squishing us.
Not real visions, mind you, just my overactive imagination pointing out the inevitable.
For it was inevitable.
A second later, I heard something. It was barely audible, and I shouldn’t have picked it up, but it raced down my back, shot hard into my skull, and exploded between my ears.
Max slammed into my side, knocking me out of the way just in time.
The compactors around us groaned and shifted together.
I may not have been an expert on these things, but the compactors were moving way faster than they should. Max had to put on a burst of his full speed to get me out of the way in time before the compactors closed with an earsplitting clap.
“Move,” Max spat in my ear, tugging me to my feet.
I shoved off down the outside row of compactors, assuming that would keep me safe.
Assumptions were wrong. If I had any doubt that the compactors were normal pieces of equipment, that doubt died as two compactors by my side flipped around, actually somersaulting in the air until they fell either side of Max and me. As they struck the ground, they did so with an echoing, walloping thump that reverberated through the room, shook the floor, and even dislodged several tiles from the ceiling. They slammed down around Max, and he batted one away from my head before it could knock me out cold.
He didn’t bother to snap at me to move again, just hooked his hand tightly around my upper arm, and put on a god-given burst of speed until we managed to clear the compactors before they slammed shut. They did so with the kind of unmistakable force that wouldn’t just crush the human body, but turn it to dust.
My heart pounded in my jaw, shaking so hard through my chest I wouldn’t have been able to stand. But I didn’t need to. Max may not have been able to read the future, but his reflexes were lightning quick. When another set of compactors dropped down around us, he simply ran right up the side of them. And, with an arm still around my middle, pulled me on top as he vaulted onto the compactor.
The whole library looked like a scene out of a Christopher Nolan film. The compactors were shifting around, changing direction, possibly possessed by the spirit of MC Escher.
And yet, somehow, despite the utter chaos, I still saw him – the young man huddling behind a desk in the corner. I could make out just a scrap of his tartan-colored top.
I yanked on Max’s arm, careful not to disrupt his grip around my middle. “There,” I hissed in his ear, controlling the volume so it managed to carry over the pounding sounds of the compactors and yet didn’t blare through the room.
I felt Max give a tight nod, and then my Scottish fairy leaned in and plucked me up. His arms wrapped underneath my knees, and he lifted me with all the effort of someone hefting a pad of paper.
Max proceeded to leap over the compactors like a hamster in a wheel.
The damn things kept shifting so erratically, I doubted even my powers would be able to keep up with them. But Max reacted just in time, saving us when the compactor we were on fell to the side and almost squashed us beneath it. “Find the assassin – find him,” Max hissed by my ear.
I didn’t have time to check his shadow – didn’t have the luxury to figure out which Max was speaking to me.
And yet, I didn’t give into
