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

 Poison?  Drugs, almost certainly, but...He took a deep breath, biting his lip, and waited for his vision to stop spinning.  It didn’t.

“So they gave me a handicap.”  Daniel pressed a hand to his face, trying to rub the tired away.  “Okay.  Okay, then…”

Get going, his mind screamed.  They wouldn’t have sent you back if they didn’t have plans.  Get control of the situation.  Now.

Daniel lurched upright again, spinning in a circle.  High, vaulted stone ceilings rose overhead, a grim canopy above a balcony looming over his head.  A hallway stretched down the middle of the room, leading into another wing.

“Alex,” Daniel snapped.  “Sitting room.  Now.”  Everything that mattered was there.  Everything.  The front door, and his quarters, and the passageway down into the restricted section...he smiled wistfully, casting a glance to the shelves.  “Will you destroy my office until I need it again?”

A candle mounted to the wall nearby crackled, sending a spray of blue sparks into the air.  Daniel nodded.  “T-Thanks.”

Stone rumbled against stone, and he turned.  An archway was creaking open before his eyes, swallowing bookshelves into the gap like Alexandria herself was ravenously devouring them.  The sitting room door waited inside.

“Thanks,” Daniel said, stumbling forward.  With every step he took, his vision blurred, his sense of balance right on the verge of giving out.

How long would this last?  That might be the wrong question—would this wear off at all?  Time operated differently inside the Library.  It was entirely possible that whatever drug that bastard had introduced into his system would linger, hanging around longer than Daniel would actually be asleep.

And, of course, even if he’d regained a semblance of independence inside Alexandria, nothing changed the fact he was still a prisoner outside.  They could submerse him in a vat of the stuff, and there’d be nothing he could do about it.

Shaking his head, Daniel hurried forward as best he could.  The door creaked open, and-

He stopped, staring at the sitting room—which was in exactly the same condition as they’d left it.  The wall had been shoved out, making room for Leon’s oversized table.  The books of demis waited on their shelf behind it.

“Shit,” Daniel mumbled, glancing around.  Where should he start?  Visitors might show up at any minute.

First things first.  He twisted, pointing at the door to the entryway, and narrowed his eyes.  The wood in the frame came alive, writhing and seething over until it melded with the wood of the door.  The stone around it grew, locking it firmly in place.

“That should do it,” he said.  His gaze lingered on the sealed doorway a moment longer, and he chewed his lip.  Would it?  The last thing he needed was a mess of intruders piling through the front doors and taking over the heart of Alexandria.

“You locked the doors when they showed up the last time,” he said softly.  “When I wasn’t here.  Thanks.”

He reached a hand out, resting it against the wall of the sitting room.  “Keep that up.  Don’t let them in—this way, anyway.”  Maybe it’d be enough, and he could hold the front against them.

Then again, if they really did have someone who could read minds, and they could let people into Daniel’s dreams, he couldn’t count on the front gates to keep them out.

But he’d done all he could on that front.  He spun, facing the owl-emblazoned door to his quarters.  “Make that go away,” he mumbled, holding two fingers out before him.  Back and forth he scrubbed, sweeping the tips of his fingers over the doorway as though erasing it.  “I’m not sleeping.  I don’t need to research anything.  You…”  His brow furrowed.

He could remember...something.  Another door being here, once.  A different one, alongside his.  Black, marked with...he exhaled.  Black feathers.  A crow.  Right.

Reluctantly, the air between him and the doorway blurred, fogging over.  Blank whiteness wiped the door from sight—and when it faded back out in wispy clumps, the door to his quarters was gone.

“Okay,” Daniel said, twisting again.  Vertigo swept in again, protesting the motion, and he grabbed at the wall for stability.  “This room.  Let’s fix this.”

His hands came up, fingers spread like he was conducting an invisible, silent band.

The books had to go.  The books, and the table, and the papers there.  His fingers flicked to the side, swirling, and the papers flew from the table’s surface.  The map ripped from the wall, coiling up.  The mass of paper seethed, wrapping about itself tighter and tighter—until he flipped his wrist up, snapping his fingers, and it burst into flames.

Faster.  They could be here any second.  He flicked his wrist, and the burning orb slammed backward into the bookshelf.  Sparks flew with the impact, coloring the air red.  He clenched both fists together, seizing that moment of heat, and ripped his hands apart.

The fires exploded to life, spreading across the bookshelf with the mage-texts on it with impossible, unearthly speed.  Daniel watched the shelves go up in sheets of red, a sad smile on his face.

It wasn’t lost.  None of the information here could be lost so easily.  When he was ready, when he went back downstairs into that forgotten library, the texts would be waiting for him, safe and sound.

Still, part of him screamed, revolting at the sight of the books going up in an inferno.

“To ash,” he whispered, his eyes tightening.  “Until there’s nothing left, Alex.  They can’t be allowed to find anything.”

The fires rippled higher, roaring across the sitting room, and a wave of heat slapped his face like a physical blow.  Daniel winced, drawing back, but didn’t let up.  The seconds slipped by, until at last-

“That’s enough,” he said, releasing his hands.  His fingers spread wide again, this time tamping down to the ground.  Cool and dark.  Quiet.  Still.  Be at rest.

The flames danced lower, dimming.  Closer and closer to the ground, they sank, until finally, the embers went out.

Daniel exhaled.  The bookshelves were gone, as was the table.  Not even a scorch mark marred the stone behind it, the carpet as plush and