Nothing. He’d found nothing at all. Biting his lip, Owl strode on, turning the next corner.
And found himself at the head of a short, narrow hallway. A single door waited before him.
He froze, his blood turning to ice. The walls seemed to press in closer around him. The candles on the walls burned brighter, seething with a warm, comforting light.
Finally, he slumped, his arms falling to his sides. “Only one way left, huh?” he whispered.
One of the candles alongside him popped, a spark falling from its wick.
Get yourself together, the Library seemed to be telling him. Stop running away from it.
He nodded, swallowing over and over again until he felt a little more...together. Steeling himself before he could run away, he snatched at the handle, pulling the door open.
Row after row of bookshelves waited within, every bit as dark and cramped as the hallway outside. Daniel tossed the book in, scarcely waiting to watch it land on a heap, and spun.
The report of his boots against the stones echoed through the silent halls as he broke into a run.
The Library stretched out before him, guiding him back. He ignored the rooms that passed, the untold mysteries contained within. He’d never see all of it, and he didn’t have time to look.
His legs burned, protesting the run. His lungs ached. He ran anyway, flying past gardens and laboratories gleaming with glasswork.
Until at last, the stone underfoot turned to carpet, and he skidded to a stop.
Jean looked up. The familiar overstuffed chair she favored...all but swallowed her up. Her skin hung from her bones, etched with wrinkles and lines.
The gleam of silver he’d seen before had changed, transforming to a river that washed away all the color she had left. Her hair hung about her face in thinning, limp strands.
Daniel stared, his eyes wide and terrified.
She smiled. More than any of the rest of it, that stood out to him. She smiled, and it was so familiar it hurt. The rest of her had changed, but that smile...
That smile told him this wasn’t a dream, that this wasn’t a stranger.
“Sit down, Daniel,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
He wanted to move. His limbs twitched, right on the verge of running to her, but he just...couldn’t.
Her smile didn’t change, but a sadness slipped onto her face, turning the expression wistful.
“We have a lot to discuss.”
- Chapter Nine -
Daniel stood frozen in place, staring. The fire crackled away happily, the only noise in the room.
Jean. She was...
“Jean?” he whispered. She’d explain, if he gave her a moment. Surely. She could explain what was happening, what’d happened to her.
Any second now, she’d open her mouth, and explain everything.
But she only sat there, her eyes dark and sad and her limbs steadily vanishing into the voluminous cushions.
“Sit, Daniel,” she said at last, her expression softening. “You look exhausted. And...this might take a moment.”
He looked exhausted? She was the one who seemed ready to keel over, who had transformed before his eyes from the woman he knew into...into this wraith.
But the words ran away every time he reached for them, and her eyes never left his. Slowly, hardly trusting himself to walk, Daniel crept toward the chairs.
The cushions groaned under him as he sat, still gaping at her.
“We have a lot we should talk about,” she said, her voice whisper-thin. “Like I said.”
“L-Like what?” Daniel said, confusion still seething ice-cold in his mind. “Jean, what’s wrong? Why do you look so-”
He stopped, his cheeks flushing. Something in his mind rebelled at the thought, at the question. An image swam up behind his eyelids - a shadowed figure, a silhouette leaning over him.
Now, Daniel, he heard it say, one finger held out admonishingly. You should never ask a woman her age.
Her voice...it screamed at the edge of his senses, so familiar it hurt and yet completely unknown. Tears burned, welling up in the corners of his eyes. Why? Who was it? Where had their words come from?
He blinked, and the silhouette vanished. Jean waited in its place, her hands folded in her lap.
“Why are you old?” he whispered. There wasn’t a nice way to ask - but Jean had always wanted him to be direct. To be honest.
Her lips curled into a tiny, sardonic smile. “Because I am old, Daniel.”
“That’s a lie,” he said, beginning to bristle. “You’re not old. You-”
“I am not old in Alexandria because I do not wish to be old,” Jean said, never raising her voice. He faltered, his anger fading, and her smile twisted. “The Library runs on belief, Daniel. I know that, you know that. This is no different. But the body you see here?”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “This is as I am. Truly.”
A light went on in his head - a piece settling into place. “Out there. In the outside world.”
Slowly, she inclined her head. “Yes.”
Daniel only blinked, fighting desperately to keep up. Jean was...old? She looked different than he thought? Unease kindled within him at the notion. She’d been keeping secrets from him. He didn’t like that. It was just one more bit of wrongness to throw on top of the pile, though.
She leaned forward, her hands still clasped around each other like sticks held together with translucent skin. “I’d hoped to have more time. I thought...” Her lips pressed together briefly, tightening. “Well. I hadn’t planned on Adrian doing the things he did. And now, I’m afraid we’re going to have to hurry.”
Why. Daniel sat motionless, his eyes pinned to Jean as she leaned to the side. Why is there a hurry?
When she leaned back, she clutched something in her hands - a folder, plain manilla and filled with papers.
“The Library needs guests, Daniel,” she said, her voice low. “We’ve discussed this before.”
“Y-Yeah,” he managed.
She flipped the folder open, angling it toward him. Almost on instinct, he scooted forward, craning his neck until he could read the pages.
Names,
