He put the car in gear. Leon’s hand settled over his, soft and warm.
Letting off the brake, he drove.
* * * * *
Bells screamed from overhead.
Daniel jerked, twitching awake. Beside him, he heard a heavy thump as Leon fell straight off the bed. “W-What the-”
“It’s f-fine,” Daniel said, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. He pushed himself up from the bed, masking a yawn. “It’s…I-It’s…” He shook his head. “It’s time. Guests are here.”
“Oh.” Leon’s head appeared on the far side of the bed. His eyes were perfectly round, his face pale. “Oh, shit. Then-”
“Calm down,” Daniel said, but it was too late. Leon had already darted for the closet he’d claimed. The first time they’d returned to Alexandria, it’d already been there on the wall, ready and waiting for him. She’d probably been waiting years to stick the damn thing into place, knowing her.
The door squeaked open, and bits of clothing started flying out. The bells continued their clattering. Daniel peered up at the ceiling. “We get it,” he said sourly. The bells stopped.
He groaned, levering himself upright, and padded over to where his uniform hung. “You good?” he called, reaching for his shirt.
“W-Where are my pants?”
“I told you to put them away.”
“I’d swear I- Oh, hey.” Leon thrust something beyond the edge of the closet door—a postcard, covered in colorful flowers and what looked like some sort of tropical bird. “James says hi. They’re, uh.” The postcard vanished as Leon peered closer at it. “They’re enjoying Bali. I think. His handwriting sucks.”
“Glad to hear it.” Daniel stumbled, pulling his own pants on, and reached for his coat. “Hey. You good, or should I-”
“Holy shit!”
The sound of Leon’s cry was like a jolt of ice straight to Daniel’s system. He lurched, grabbing for the dresser to steady himself. “Leon? Are you okay?”
“I get a mask?” Leon leapt back into sight, his jacket hanging open—and a smooth white disc of porcelain clutched in his hands. A familiar set of straps hung from its edges. “This is so cool. I’ve always wanted one of these. Always.”
“Well, we can’t have you running around without one,” Daniel said dryly. “Button your damn jacket up.”
“Oh. Right.” Leon fumbled with the buttons. He didn’t seem to want to actually put the mask down, as though he was afraid it’d vanish if he let go of it.
Daniel rolled his eyes, doing up his collar, and strode toward him. “Here,” he said. “Let me help you with that. Put it on your face.”
Leon held the featureless mask to his face, and Daniel did the straps up, muttering the process to Leon as he went. Finally, he pulled Leon’s collar tight, flipping his hood up. “Look at you,” he said. “All good to go.”
“Do I get a name, too?”
Daniel snorted, turning away, and jammed his own mask on. “...Maybe later. For now, uh. What’s that word you threw at me?”
“An acolyte,” Leon said proudly.
“Yeah. That. You can be one of those, if anyone asks.”
“Lame.” He followed after Owl, though, right on his heels as they moved toward the door.
Owl peered around at Alexandria, the door clicking shut behind them. In the few months since their run-in with Madis, Alexandria had recovered...somewhat. The room was bigger, and the shelves were wood instead of rusted metal. The folding chairs had been returned to the familiar overstuffed variety, if a bit threadbare, and they sat in front of a crackling fireplace.
Most importantly, a narrow row of doors waited alongside his—and the statue of Alexandria was gone. He’d gone looking for it a few days ago, with painful relief at finding the passage to the basement hidden behind his dresser. Convenient to get at? No. But it was substantially more concealed, and that was what mattered.
And he’d spotted the first glimmers of light in her well’s depth, which was the final straw to him taking candidates again. She was ready, even if she was still hurting, and he’d had enough books dropped on his head to know she was impatient. So open the Library for candidates he had.
Even if seeing Olivia had hurt like a knife to the chest.
Even if seeing her smile politely at him, her expression reserved and professional, had been like reaching out and twisting that knife.
He shook his head, fixing his eyes to the doorway ahead. “You good?” he said softly.
His acolyte chuckled softly. “Been waiting for this, bird-man.”
Owl rolled his eyes. This is your fault, he whispered silently. You encouraged him.
The faintest tinkling of bells drifted down from overhead. Now she was laughing at him.
Smothering a smile, he reached out, grabbing hold of the door handle. For a moment, he froze, caught staring down at it.
Here they were again—starting everything over again. Opening the doors to strangers. To outsiders. And the last time he did that...everything fell apart.
Maybe he was rushing into this. Maybe they weren’t ready, or the Booklenders still had ulterior motives. Maybe he’d picked wrong, and he was about to let a spy into Alexandria, or-
Leon’s gloved hand brushed against his. “Hey. Get out of your head. We got this.”
Slowly, Owl nodded. He took a deep breath. Another. “You’re right,” he said, straightening. “Let’s do this.”
Whatever came next, he wasn’t alone anymore. They’d face it.
Together.
With a final creak, the doors of Alexandria opened.
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