The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1) by Casey White (ebook reader 8 inch .TXT) 📗

He paused, still cradling the cup, and furrowed his brow.  What was it?  He’d had hot chocolate before, certainly.  But now, here in the sitting room...it was like being slapped in the face with a wall of deja vu, hopelessly disconnected from any memory he could find and yet too strong to push away.

In that moment, with the taste of chocolate in his mouth and the warmth of the fire against his face, something inside of him screamed for attention.  He lifted the mug for another sip and-

And lurched, grabbing for the arm of the chair as the world spun around him.  His mouth fell open, his vision twisting wildly.

Exhaustion rushed in from the edges of his senses, pushing against his limbs like lead.  He reeled, trying to shake it from his head, and raised the mug toward the table alongside him.

It fell to the carpet instead, toppling over and spilling its contents everywhere.

Daniel hit the ground a heartbeat later, helpless against whatever was sweeping through him.  The whispers in his head screamed louder, shrieking that something was wrong.

Somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been here before.

In that moment, though, the weariness taking over him was a relief, the confirmation he’d been waiting for that he wouldn’t be trapped in Alexandria forever.  Daniel smiled, his eyes misting over, and gave up on trying to fight it.

“Be back...soon,” he whispered, laying his cheek flat against the soft fibers.  The fire burned in his vision, melting everything away with its orange warmth.

As the last of the Library blurred to nothing around him, he felt the weight of a blanket settle over his body.

- Chapter Sixteen -

Reality came back blurred, hazy waves, tainted by the unmistakable ache of a brewing hangover.  Daniel hissed, wincing and turning away from the brilliant mid-morning light that shone even through his closed eyelids.  His hand came up, rubbing at his temple.

The sheets wrapped around him were...coarse.  Cheap.  His breath caught in his throat - and then, slowly, he smiled.

Alexandria would never look after him so poorly.  Which meant-

His eyes opened at last, and he drank in the sight of the hazy motel room that sprawled before him.  He exhaled.  Right.  Right.  He’d come here after the bar, together with-

His hand twitched, closing about empty air.  Already knowing what he’d find, Daniel turned.

The bed beside him lay empty, with the sheets rumpled and still showing a divot.

“Guess not,” he whispered, flopping back.  She was gone, then.  Whatever-her-name, the one he’d wooed away from her friends.  He should’ve known better.  Someone like her wouldn’t hang around with strange men she’d only just met, not for long.  “Ah, well.”

Not the first time, he told himself.  And not the last.  But it’d been fun all the same.

Pushing himself upright with a groan, Daniel set about finding the scattered pieces of his wardrobe he’d so hastily discarded an evening and a year’s time before.

* * * * *

“Yeah, I know,” Daniel said, trudging back up the sidewalk.  “I told you I’d be there on Saturday.  I’ll be there.”  His eyes darted up, searching the mid-morning scene.  It wasn’t far back to the bar, at least.  His fingers tightened around his phone, pressed to his ear.  “So, it’s good.  I’ll-”

“You’re sure?  That wouldn’t interrupt your work?”

“No, mom,” he said, smothering a sigh.  “I said I’d be there.”

The phone line crackled, still and silent.  His steps slowed, his thoughts freezing as he waited for her response.

“Okay,” she said at last, but her voice was small and uncertain.  “I guess.”

Daniel stopped, then, pinching at the bridge of his nose.  “Just- it’ll be fine.  I’ll be over for lunch.  I can help with whatever you need then.  Okay?”

“...Yeah.  Sounds good.”

Her voice hadn’t changed at all, despite her apparent agreement.  His eyes tightened.

“Is...everything going okay, Dan?”  She’d gotten quieter

He forced a smile onto his face, knowing she couldn’t see it.  “It’s fine, mom.  Things are going great.  I got another gig lined up.”

“Oh?” The relief filling her voice was so blatant it hurt.  “Oh, good.  I’m glad.  Look, I was talking with Mr. Padilla, and he’s really looking for someone else to run the shop with him.  I was thinking, maybe you could-”

“Mom, I’m fine,” Daniel said, all but grinding his teeth together.  He could see things from her perspective, at least - it had to worry her that her only son had turned into a freelancer, rather than go the college-to-salary route she’d always hoped for.

She didn’t need to know what he was really doing for money.  She’d have questions, just like everyone else.  But she wasn’t stupid, either, and she had to be able to feel the way he held back a little every time the subject came up.  She was his mother, after all.

He’d always read that mothers had that kind of connection with their children.  Surely some of that held true, even between them.

Back then, even as a child, he’d known he couldn’t tell her the truth.  If he started spouting off about strange libraries and women in bird masks, they’d have thought he was insane.  If he said he couldn’t remember, though, she’d march him straight back to the hospital.  Every fiber of his being screamed to keep quiet, to play along.  He was just a kid, after all. A very, very sick one, but still a kid.  Surely, if he acted the part, they’d write off his strangeness for long enough to get his feet under him.

It’d worked better than he could have hoped - but while he’d saved himself from being labeled an amnesiac invalid, his relationship with his parents had never blossomed.  Not really.  She was his mother, and filled the role of constancy within his real-world visits together with his father.  He loved her.  That wouldn’t change.

But something was missing.  Something was broken.  And their relationship was something he didn’t know how to fix.

“I know you’re fine,” she said, her dry humor cutting