He was sure he’d seen something.
He should be hurrying, his thoughts screamed. Marv had been waiting for his translation all afternoon, and even if the old scholar seemed cheerfully amiable about the whole deal, Owl didn’t want to hold him up.
Which was why he should head straight back to his desk and keep at the translation - only, he’d caught a glimmer of light right at the edge of his vision.
If it was a dreamer...He clamped down on the thought, hurrying onward through the shelves. He didn’t want to be the one to handle one of the spectral, ghostly visitors. He’d rather leave something like that for Jean to deal with. Only, she’d told him this was their job. She’d looked so serious about it, the last time he’d run to her for help.
She’d looked oddly serious a lot lately, he realized. She’d been quiet ever since Bill Parker had left Alexandria. Quiet, and terse. Like she was worried about something.
If Jean was worried, then he wouldn’t be the one to make things worse for her. He grabbed his mask, straightening the straps around his head, and continued on his way. One more lap of the wing. If he hadn’t found a dreamer by then, he’d head straight back and-
Bells rang out across the Library.
Owl skidded to a stop, his eyes going wide at the sudden noise of it all. He latched onto the bookshelf nearest him to keep from tumbling down, craning his head back to look at the ceiling as though the bells would appear from thin air.
No one was supposed to be leaving, he knew. In the weeks since Bill Parker had departed, the Library had settled back into a quiet, fevered sort of frenzy, with everyone racing to finish their own projects before they too were turned out and the Library’s doors closed for the season. If any of their clocks were running low, he’d have heard about it.
But if no one was leaving the Library, then what?
There, in the quiet of the moment as the ringing started to fade, he knew - and his grip on the bookshelves tightened painfully.
If no one was leaving, then there was only one possible option left.
Someone else was at the door, trying to come in.
- Chapter Seven -
Bells. The bells were ringing, and that could only mean one thing. Owl stood, rooted in place with his eyes raised.
What should he do? His fingertips quivered, the muscles in his legs tensing up as he hovered on the verge of bolting. If someone was here...he could go back to the study. Contain the other guests. He already knew that going and hiding in his room until they left wasn’t an option. The others would have heard the bells too. They might be worried, or have questions. The last thing Jean and him needed was for the scholars to start wandering the halls getting into trouble. Not now.
But...if there was someone here, they had...bigger issues. No more guests would arrive after the first few hours, Jean had told him. They’d filter in, and there they’d stay until their visit was over. The fact their stay had a hard-and-fast deadline seemed to be the one luxury the Librarians got, now that he thought about it.
And if no one else would be coming to prolong the Librarians’ duties, then...
Then he had no idea who it could be.
He hardly realized he’d already taken the first step, didn’t piece together he was moving until the shelves started flying past. Owl ran, pressing at his mask to make sure it hadn’t worked loose.
Jean would want him. She might need backup.
If nothing else...he wanted to be there. He wanted to see. This wasn’t anything they’d planned on, and he couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement that shot through him at the sudden disturbance.
Out of the wing, down the main hall. His boots thudded against the ground that changed between stone and wood and tile and back to stone as he raced through the Library’s sprawl.
He gritted his teeth. He didn’t have time to be trekking across the building one passage at a time. Tearing his eyes off the hallway, he glanced up to the rafters overhead.
Please. I...I need to get back there. There was no reason to think his thoughts would reach anyone - or anything - and yet, it just felt right, somehow. It was like something burned in his chest, warming at the sudden connection. The front door. She’s got to be there already. Can you-
The door in front of him slammed shut. Owl’s eyes widened. He braced, stumbling and trying to slow down, but-
He hit the wood hard, driving a cry from him. Wincing and gasping to reclaim his lost air, he squinted through watering eyes.
Half-turned from his impact, he saw it - another door in front of him slid open, creaking softly.
“T-Thank you,” he spluttered, licking his lips and throwing himself toward it.
Wooden walls flew past him, shaped like a medieval gatehouse. They transformed into masonry bricks embedded with book-laden shelves, twisting and turning until at last they opened wide.
There. Owl accelerated, already seeing the familiar doors ahead. The entryway.
But as he came to a stop before them, he realized he’d been beaten. One door lay open a crack, shifting back and forth in a breeze he couldn’t quite feel.
A voice drifted from within, cool and curt. “As I said. I apologize. Truly.”
Jean- Crow. Crow was inside. He grabbed the handle, willing himself to stop panting, and eased it open a hair.
A man looked up from across the room, his eyes narrowing - and then widening. He stared at Owl from beneath a shock of honey-blond hair, dumbfounded.
Alongside him, a dark-skinned woman jumped, making a tiny, startled noise. “A-Ah. Ah, there’s a-”
“Owl.”
He glanced over, his pulse racing.
Crow stood on the far side of the room, arms folded across her chest. He couldn’t see her expression beneath the mask, but he
