The Librarian: A Remnants of Magic Novel (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 2) by Casey White (reading list txt) 📗

This was his job. His only job—to keep the Library and its guests safe. “And what did I do?” he whispered, chuckling softly. “I’ve only been Librarian for a decade and change and already I’ve managed to get her captured by our enemies.”

The flames popped. He wrinkled his nose, flopping down to lay the length of the couch. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me, though.”

Timber groaned overhead, like the building settling. It didn’t say a word, but he could swear he felt the whole floor tilting, nudging him back toward the doorway.

“You want me to go back,” Daniel said. His eyes closed, and he sank back into the cushions. “I get it. I just- I don’t know why. He can’t help me. He can’t. I don’t know why you brought him here at all. He’s only just become a mage at all, and this Madis asshole is, like, next level.”

He swallowed. “I’m still screwed. So why are you trying to force me to go running back there and make up with him? Why is he here at all?”

The sound of paper rustling, flapping through the air momentarily rose over the crackling of the fire. Daniel opened his eyes—and raised a hand to catch the scrap of paper tumbling down toward him.

When he turned it over, delicate letterwork curled across the paper in lines of black ink.

Allow none within these walls to be harmed.

“Yes,” Daniel said wryly, crumpling the paper up in his hand. “I know. I get it. That’s your big thing, isn’t it? But that’s why I’m here. He might…” He swallowed. “He might be hurt now, but it’ll be better for him in the long run. He won’t die. Isn’t that better?”

A log in the fire crumpled in on itself. Sparks sprayed out of the fireplace toward him, and he shied back. “A-Alex. Come on.”

The embers dwindled again—and Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. “So...what am I missing? Help me out, a little.” He chuckled to himself. “It’s the same bullshit reason you gave when he started showing up, isn’t it? It didn’t make any more sense back then. Who the hell would’ve gotten hurt if he’d stayed home and out of our business from the start? Who would be hurt now?”

Light danced across his eyelids. He flinched, opening them.

A mirror shimmered back down at him for the ceiling. He stared into his own eyes, frozen in place.

And then it shattered, falling down toward him. The pieces faded to mist before they could reach him.

Daniel stared, caught motionless with his eyes fixed to that point on the ceiling. “Me?” he whispered. “Alex, were you-”

He glanced down to his hand—and the balled-up paper he still clutched. “Were you worried about me?”

A puff of smoke billowed from the fireplace. He wheezed, masking a cough, and twisted until he could press his face into the pillow alongside him.

“Damn it, Alex,” he mumbled, sagging. “I’m fine. I would’ve been fine. You didn’t need to try and find me friends.”

And he’d just thrown Leon’s ‘meddling’ back in his face. He sighed. He’d been scrabbling for something, anything to get Leon to back off and leave him alone. The irony wasn’t lost on him, however.

He pressed his hands to his face, massaging his eyes, and leaned back into the couch. “What a mess.”

* * * * *

The warmth around him faded, starting to waft away on the breeze. The cold crept in to take its place, chilling his still-damp shirt against his skin. Daniel shivered, curling up tighter.

That...wasn’t right.

He opened his eyes.

The fire had burned down to embers, but somehow, they still managed to waggle with pointed, deliberate innocence. He stared at them, letting his thoughts resurface from the mists of sleep. Somehow, he must’ve nodded off.

“I wonder how,” he muttered, shooting the fireplace a dirty look.

He’d been so tired, though. And he did feel better.

“It’s probably been long enough,” he said, tearing his eyes off the fireplace long enough to steal a speculative glance at the windows. He’d been out for hours, if the light outside was any indication. Which, inside Alexandria, it wasn’t, but it was as good as he’d get.

Leon would have left by now. He’d be clear. Daniel smiled, closing his eyes again. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. He’d never wanted a goodbye like that.

But it was still better than the alternative.

Bracing his hands against his knees, he stood with a groan. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go home, Alex.”

The whole room brightened. It was subtle, but he caught it, and rolled his eyes. When he took a step toward the door, it swung open before him.

This time, there were no stairs—just that same slide from before, wide and smooth and perilously steep. Daniel inched toward it, wrinkling his nose. “Really?” he muttered. “I’m not a kid, Alex. Can’t you just make me a door to-”

A woman’s voice sighed, filled with amusement. “Just humor her,” he heard her say—and a hand shoved him, right in the center of his back. He stumbled forward, wide-eyed, and twisted.

The room was empty.

“Again?” he whispered. He stood, frozen, and stared.

Finally, he turned, stooping low. “Fine,” he said. “If you insist.”

A push, a shove, and suddenly the Library fell away from behind him. Fast. Very fast. The slide was smooth, smoother than he’d thought, and with the equally tight-woven, heavy-duty pants he was wearing…

“Don’t kill me,” he gasped, trying to grab hold of the edges. “Come on, Alex, don’t-”

As if hearing him, the slide jogged, and he flinched, clamping down on anything else he’d have said.

He was pretty sure he’d never seen a goddamn slide weaving its way through Alexandria—and indeed, she was taking him the back way. He sailed through the abandoned spaces of the Library, through clouds of dust that wafted off beams and panels and the backsides of bookshelves. Lost pages tumbled down from above, stirred up by his passage. The timbers overhead sank lower and lower, until he lay back, fixing his