The laughter from within died as the door swung shut behind him. Daniel trudged out into the dark, his ears still ringing with their voices. He shouldn’t be running, he knew. He shouldn’t be acting so weird. Why not enjoy himself? He worked harder than any of them knew. So why not have a bit of fun?
Only, he wasn’t having fun at all. He wished he was, but...he wasn’t. So here he was.
A car blasted past him, the headlights tearing a hole through the growing night ahead. Daniel drew back, wincing. There was a sidewalk, at least, which he could follow for most of the way back. It’d be a bit of a walk, but he could use some time apart. Besides. He smiled, letting his head fall back until only the first glimmers of stars shone in his eyes. It was halfway nice that evening. If it kept looking like this, then he might just find himself getting attached to the outside-dwellers’ sky.
Even as his heart settled, though, his thoughts kept racing as steadily as ever. With the only sounds around him drifting from the ever-dwindling city, there was little to stand in the way of his deeper worries.
And he had plenty of those.
Another sigh slipped from his throat. With every step he took, his eyes drooped lower. “Would you give me a break for, like, a single night?” he whispered, knowing Alexandria would never hear. Out here, there was simply too much of a distance between them—but he knew, knew that this was her doing. At least in part. She was weak, and tired, and suddenly he was weak and tired. He didn’t have to be a genius to piece it together.
“...Fine,” he whispered, a crooked smile curling at his lips. “You can leech off me for a little while longer. But you’re going to have to let up sooner or later.”
Sooner or later. His mood darkened again, flopping with terrifying ease. Sooner or later, Alex would stop draining him for energy—because sooner or later, she’d be whole again. She wouldn’t need to be nursed along, isolated and coddled back to health. She’d be back to normal.
And she’d want to have visitors again.
Daniel tucked his chin lower to his chest, his expression darkening. There it was—the problem that’d haunted his mind ever since he started mending Alexandria. She was what she was—a magical accumulation of knowledge. A being like her wouldn’t be satisfied simply existing, apart from the rest of humanity.
She’d want to be read. And if she wanted to be read, it was his job to find people to read her.
“What do you think, Alex?” he murmured. Away from the lights of the downtown area, he was by himself here. Even if anyone heard him, they’d just think he was a crazy person talking to himself. And, well, they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. He chuckled. “Was I...Was I too harsh on them? Olivia and Will?”
He could still remember the look on her face as he’d spit words at her. The shock. The fear. But through that entire moment, the mask she wore hadn’t slipped. Not even once. Forgiving them would be the easiest route to mending bridges. Also a stupid route, but easiest.
Sucking down a quick breath of air, Daniel shook his head once. Sharply. No, no. He wouldn’t be caving and letting them run back to Alexandria’s skirts so easily. Not after they’d tried to...not after what they’d done. His cheeks burned, flushing to red. It was the cold, he told himself. Just the chill in the air.
Nothing to do with the way Olivia had crawled on top of him, all but sticking her hands down his pants. It had nothing to do with what he’d been ready to do with her.
And she’d been lying to him the whole time. Playing him. Keeping Will safely back in the study, away from her. I thought you’d enjoy the privacy, she’d said. Daniel snorted, his throat tightening.
He’d known that letting someone get past his guard was a risk. He’d known that those who saw him as Owl would think of that and little else—his position. His rank as Librarian, and the access to Alexandria that getting close to him brought. He’d thought Olivia was different.
He was wrong.
And he’d never make that mistake again. Daniel nodded, biting down on the fleshy part of his lip. The faint touch of pain centered him, cutting across the muddled confusion. The guild had thought to use him, and so that was that. Now, they’d never use him again—or the Library.
What, then? his thoughts screamed. It’s a wonderful sentiment, but what will you tell Alex when she gets impatient?
His hands clenched into fists, hidden inside his coat pockets. He needed to source visitors. Somehow.
Maybe...Maybe he could just unlock the door, and-
His feet kicked at the concrete sidewalk, dragging and scraping at the soles. “Hell, no,” he muttered, scowling at the ground. “Why? Why me? Why should I have to lower myself like that?” Again, he shook his head. “There’s got to be another way. There’s got….got to-”
A yawn burst from his chest, wiping out his words beneath a swirling, twisting wave of sleepiness. Daniel pressed a hand to his mouth, fighting hard against the new and sudden exhaustion.
“Fine,” he mumbled. “I’ll figure something out. Okay? I don’t know what, yet, but...something.”
The stars above glimmered faintly, drawing his eyes skyward. With a final groan, he let them suck him back in. He still had a ways to go, but his bed awaited, with Alexandria beyond. Soon enough, he’d be home. Alexandria would heal.
And he’d figure this out.
A tiny, wry smile still lingering on his face, Daniel hurried off into the night.
- Chapter Two -
Owl hugged a book to his chest, lifting his chin. The walls rose high around him, as well-stocked with tomes as the
