The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1) Casey White (classic books for 13 year olds txt) 📖

Crow turned the key. Owl’s head came up, his eyes widening as something in the front wall shifted. With a groan, some sort of mechanism came to life.

It settled with a hollow, heavy clunk, and the world went quiet again.

She pulled the key loose, then twisted back to face him. “There. That’s it. So, let’s-”

“That’s it?” he spluttered, blinking wildly.

“That’s it,” she said. He could hear her fighting to keep from laughing. “Really, it’s not that big a deal. You’ve got to empty the cart of new arrivals still, don’t you?”

He screwed up his face, disappointment flaring anew. “Y-Yeah, but I-”

“Get to it, then. If you finish that, I’ll show you some new tricks out in the practice ring.”

Well, in that case...He bobbed his head eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. She always had the best spells, the most creative and intricate shows of light and magic. Afternoons like that were way better than her throwing fireballs at him for hours on end.

No sooner had he taken his first steps toward the door, though, when he heard it - a click.

Like a latch coming open.

Owl froze, panic building hot and fast in his chest. The door was opening. People? Here? But they’d only just opened Alexandria. Were they the bad people Jean had mentioned? Hurriedly, he shook his head. Not Jean. Crow. If he slipped up, she could- They might find her and they’d-

“Don’t freak out,” Crow said. A comforting weight pressed against his side. Her legs.

When she held her hand down, he took it, fighting to catch his breath. “You good?” she murmured.

He nodded.

Good or not, it didn’t matter. Ahead of them, the door pushed open, showing only blinding light beyond.

Something pressed through. A silhouette showed black against the brilliance, outlined by sunstreaks. “Hello?” a voice called. The worry in Owl’s chest eased. Whoever it was, they sounded every bit as worried and confused as he felt.

Crow squeezed his hand, then slipped out in front of him. He watched, hands clasped in front of him, as she walked into the center of the entrance hall.

And bowed.

“Welcome to the Library,” she said.

- Chapter Five -

Loaded with books high enough he could barely peer over the top, Owl hurried through the Library.

Voices rang out somewhere ahead of him. His arms quivered, from more than just the weight of the tomes.

A clock spun over the mantle in their sitting room - the sitting room that had now swelled, offering three times as many chairs with coffee tables slung between them. Fine streams of sand poured between glass orbs in the timepiece, like a dozen different hourglasses hooked together and set to gears.

Jean had directed him to that clock the first time he’d run to her, asking how long their guests would be staying. He didn’t like them. They were too loud, and they walked around Alexandria like they owned it. The Library didn’t seem to mind, but...

But he minded. This place belonged to him and Jean, not them. He’d stood in front of the clock that first day, scowling furiously and watching its arms slowly turn.

Another set of doors blew past, and his steps slowed. The sitting room passed by him merrily, the fire crackling with an inviting warmth. Come sit, it seemed to say.

Owl groaned, hiking the stack of books up higher. He couldn’t. He had duties. It was his job as Jean’s apprentice. As Crow’s apprentice, he corrected himself again.

Past the sitting room he went, spinning to put his back into the next door.

The voices grew louder, turning from muted whispers and half-heard phrases into a conversation right at the edge of audible. Owl grinned from behind his mask, trotting into the next room - a wide and long antechamber lined with table after table. A second story rose around the edge of the study, rising high overhead with tomes.

Here and there, figures sat at tables, hunched over this or that book. Some looked up at his passing, eyeing the slight figure with barely-concealed interest.

The one he’d set his eyes on, though, only sat back in his chair, frowning. His eyes stayed resolutely fixed on the notebook in front of him. “There you are. About time, boy.”

“Y-Yeah,” Owl said, fighting to keep from panting. He came to a stop in front of the man’s table. “Sorry, Bill.”

Oh, the man looked up at that, his eyes narrowing. “It’s Mr. Parker.”

“Of course, sir,” Owl said, grinning just a little. It was the one benefit he’d found to the hot, itchy mask - behind the shield of its clay and cloth barrier, no one could see him laughing at them. And with this man, well...He enjoyed the chance to get under his skin a little.

He deposited the stack of books, breathing a sigh of relief and swinging his arms out to either side. With every day that passed, he could feel himself getting stronger - more so since the doors to the Library had opened and he’d become the guests’ errand boy. But carrying the massive texts was still hard.

“Shameful, if you ask me,” Mr. Parker said, grabbing one of the books from the top of the stack and pulling it closer. The frown never left his dour face. “This place has gone straight to hell. Why, if I knew service was going to turn to shit like it has, I’d have used up my stamps when I visited last time.”

Owl balled his fists up at his side, his hands all but hidden by the bulky leather coat Crow insisted he wear every time he left his chambers. “Yes, sir.”

Back when the guests had first entered, he’d seen the ‘stamps’ Bill referred to - a tiny sheet of cardstock with four boxes printed on its front, pulled from a rack on the wall of the entryway. Three of the boxes had already been marked. Jean had held the library card out for the man to sign, then stamped the final with an intricate red seal.

That was