“Almost all of it,” he muttered, turning his eyes to the unnaturally-large room. His hand thrust out, his fingers hooking into the air. Quick and tight, he yanked his arm back, pulling hard.
Alexandria groaned around him, shuddering—but the wall moved with him, sinking in. He clenched his teeth, holding the familiar image of the sitting room in his mind. A little more. Closer. A little—there.
The wall creaked to a stop. The last tendrils of smoke fell from the air. Daniel stood, breathing deeply, and tried to get his eyes to focus long enough to assess his work.
The sitting room was...mostly normal. Close enough. It was one of the few rooms that stayed mostly-static, so he wanted to assuage the suspicions of anyone that passed through. Nothing to see here. Keep moving. Your magic books aren’t here. Then again, unless Indira had brought along any of his past guests, it was probably a moot point.
He shook his head. “Can’t be too careful,” he whispered. “That’s how we wound up in this mess in the first place, right?”
The ground beneath his feet rumbled faintly, but not unhappily. Daniel chuckled. “Glad you agree.” He gave the room a final look, already feeling himself slide backward.
Front door, locked. Entryway door, sealed. His quarters, hidden. Leon’s notes, destroyed.
Assuming Alex had done as he asked and plucked his office out of existence, he was as secure as he could hope for.
“Okay,” Daniel whispered. He turned on his heel, more slowly, and looked toward the final door that waited for him—the door into Alexandria. “You’re going to have to let them in, aren’t you? If they’re inserting themselves straight into my thoughts.”
The lights dimmed again, almost sadly. Daniel smiled. “I know. It’s not your fault. Look. If they’re going to come in, can you…” He nodded toward the last remaining door. “Stick ‘em out there? I’ll keep them away from your heart for…” He hesitated.
He wasn’t getting out of this mess anytime soon. And the longer Rickard had him, the longer their goons had to try and subdue him inside Alexandria. “For as long as I can,” he finished, his voice quiet. “This might drag on for a while. But I’m not going to give you up to them. So...work with me. Just a little.”
He glanced around the sitting room, waiting for her reply, but Alexandria was quiet. Finally, a noise broke the silence of the moment—the steady rattling of the door. The final one, the one he faced now.
The doorway leading out into the wings.
That...seemed like as much of an answer as he was likely to get. Daniel grinned, hitching his coat higher, and reached for his mask. It hung right where it’d always waited, faithful as ever. He closed his eyes as he pressed it over his face, doing up the straps by the muscle memory of long years.
It was useless. They knew his face. They knew his name. He wasn’t protecting any sort of secret, anymore.
But if they wanted a fight with the Librarian, he’d at least look the part.
Raising his head, Owl pulled his hood into place—and strode forward, grabbing hold of the door.
It flew open at his touch with the perfect sort of drama Alex loved so damn much. Owl chuckled under his breath, lifting his head a bit higher.
He’d known he wouldn’t have long to prepare himself. But as the archway around him turned to row after row of ancient, carved bookshelves, he knew he’d get no time at all.
Not when he could already hear the shrill hissing of hushed voices echoing around the wing.
They were here. And judging from the noise, they’d brought friends.
One hand down at his side, Owl snapped his fingers. Once. Twice. Again. The air thrummed in response—as did the Library itself. The ground pulsed beneath his feet. The candles on the walls danced, surging in spatters of light with every crack and pop.
“Okay, you bastards,” he whispered, lifting his chin and casting a glare around the shelves. “Where the hell are you hiding?”
Step by step, casting spirals of dust in his wake, Owl strode into the Library.
- Chapter Thirty-Four -
Owl hurried on, following the threadbare whispers that echoed around the high ceiling. They were here.
Time to get to work.
With one hand, though, he traced a circle in the air at his side, over and over again. The low rumbling of stone and wood shifting rose louder, wiping away the voices for a brief moment.
And when he glanced back toward where the sitting room had been mere seconds before, he saw only smooth stone blocks, no sign of a hallway.
Good. He smiled, nodding once. If they’re stubborn, and they know enough, they might be able to force their way in even still. But...that’ll slow them down. Most of them.
Indira knew about the sitting room. She’d probably told Rickard. But...it would help.
“We’re going in circles!”
The hissed cry brought Owl to a dead stop, frozen in place like a statue. His eyes flicked to the shelves around him, searching for its source, but found only polished wood and craggy, unfinished rock.
But he could still hear them, arguing away in whispers too low for him to hear. Slowly, every step measured and careful, Owl inched forward.
In happier days, this would have been exactly how he snuck up on Leon, ready to scare his friend into a scream. He smiled bitterly. Now, his mission was more grim.
The stone underfoot turned to carpet, a long, elegant rug of red velvet. Owl smiled beneath his mask, moving more easily. Thanks. It traced a path along a tall, sweeping bookshelf that bisected the wing neatly. And ahead…
Ahead lay a gap in the shelves. Owl pressed himself against the neatly arranged books, peering around the edge. The floor swayed beneath him. He gritted his teeth against it.
Two men crouched next to each
