Spinebreaker (Library Gate Series Book 2) Page 7

“Oh, hon,” April said. Her tear ducts started to burn. “I… I really don’t know where your dad is. I’m sorry.” She tried to tell herself it was technically true, and that the lie was a necessary one. But saving the lives of every person in the Werner collection couldn’t be worth this.

  “Oh,” Rico said. He looked down at his shoes.

  Becky walked into the room. “Hi, Rico,” she said. “How are you doing?”

  With one last look in April’s direction Rico walked towards Becky. He took the box from her, and she patted him on the shoulder and said a few words that April couldn’t hear before heading back downstairs.

  She willed him to leave, instead, he dug through the box. He paused at the picture of himself before pulling out the jacket Andre kept at work. After a few seconds of staring at it, he pulled it on, and then left.

  April rose and walked quickly to her office and closed the door behind her. She felt like crying but her eyes remained dry. In her mind’s eye she kept seeing Rico holding his father’s jacket.

  When she looked up Randall was there, which was weird because she didn’t remember the door opening.

  “Hey,” he said, using the same voice he had when he’d come over to her house the previous week. “You okay? You ran in here pretty fast.”

  “Does someone have a reference question?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I just saw you talking to the boy. He’s Andre’s son, isn’t he?”

  She didn’t answer, and he shifted uneasily back and forth on his feet. Rex whined.

  “That kid is never going to know what happened to his father,” April said. “He’s going to grow up thinking Andre abandoned him. And he’s always going to wonder why.”

  “I know.”

  “So what do I do?” She held her breath, hoping that Randall would have an answer, because she sure as hell didn’t.

  “Just what you’re doing now,” Randall said. “Your best.”

  “If this is my best, then we’re screwed.” She nodded towards the door. “We better go back out. People will start wondering…” she’d been about to say that they would start wondering if she’d gone missing, but then she realized what that sounded like and fought back the words. “they might start wondering where I am. Let’s go.”

  ~~~

  April stepped out of Mae’s office that night after close to find Dorian, Randall, and Barty with their heads almost pressed together speaking in low voices. They stopped talking as soon as they saw her.

  “What’s going on?” She said, crossing her arms.

  They exchanged a worried glance. Dorian was the first to speak. “We’ve been discussing it, and we think you should take some time off.”

  “Discussing it?” She said. “You mean planning a mutany!”

  “You need time to heal,” Randall said. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

  “What?” she said. “I’ve barely been breaking a sweat the last few nights. It was hard at first, but I’m getting stronger, just like Dorian said.”

  “I don’t mean physically,” Randall said. “After that boy came in today you were obviously not okay.”

  “That boy is Andre’s son,” April said.

  “I know that.”

  “If I take a break, who’s going to maintain the collection, huh?”

  “You’ve been working at a break-neck pace,” Dorian said. “An extended weekend isn’t going to harm anything.”

  “I’ll lose the muscle I’ve built!” April said. “I need to keep increasing my abilities, or else I’ll never be able to fix the black books!”

  There was a long beat of silence.

  “I told you,” Dorian said, “there’s nothing you can do for the black books.”

  “I have to at least try,” she said. She tried to make eye contact with each of them. “Randall? Back me up, here.”

  “You need to take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else,” he said.

  “Barty?”

  Barty looked down at his feet and said nothing.

  “Fine. That’s just fine. If you guys aren’t going to help me, you can just leave.”

  “April—”

  “Just go.”

  All that could be heard in the following silence was the ticking of the grandfather clock. Barty was the one to break it. “Let’s go, Randall. I’ll give you a ride.”

  Their steps echoed all the way down the stairwell. When the downstairs door had shut, April turned to Dorian. “You, too.”

  “That’s fine,” Dorian said. “You don’t know which books have the ink rot.”

  He was right. She ground her teeth. “Whatever. I’ll figure it out myself.”

  Without another word, Dorian walked to the place near the gate where the copy of his book was hidden. He pulled it out from under the floorboards and opened it. As the gate opened, he said, “This is for the best. You don’t see it now, but you will. Just a few days.”

  She closed the book on him, turning away so she wouldn’t have to see his disappointed expression.

  She’d thought that kicking them out might make her feel better, but she only felt more agitated. Dorian was right; she didn’t know which books had ink rot and which didn’t. She could go through them randomly, but that was a waste of effort…

  But it wasn’t qiute true, was it? She knew where some of the ink rotted books were.

  She went to Mae’s office, testing the floorboards until she found a a loose section underneath her desk. She pulled it up and there they were, about a dozen of them, each cover so black it was indistinguishable from its neighbor. She shivered at the thought of sitting above them while she worked.

  She pulled one out and walked out to the gate and opened it. Once the gate was opened, what lay beyond was exactly the same as what she had seen in the black book the previous week. Dark shapes of varying sizes, some that must have been buildings and others that could have been automobiles, and faceless, shadowy figures.

  She stood in front of the gate for a long while. Was she going in? No, she finally decided. Dorian was right. She wasn’t strong enough yet. But she would be, someday.

  She sat on the nearest table and watched the blackened masses move and shift on the other side.

  “Ms. Walker?”

  April’s head snapped towards the double doors where the noise had come from. There shouldn’t be anyone in the library. The library seemed dim after staring at the light-sucking ink rot; she had to narrow her eyes to make out the figure standing on the other side of the veil. It was Rico.

  Chapter Six

  She slammed the book shut, but it was too late. He had already seen. Once the gate was closed, she turned to Rico. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  He ignored her question, looking instead at the stained-glass window. “What was all that?”

  She raised her eyebrow at him. “I asked you first.”

  He shrugged. “I found some keys in my dad’s jacket.”

  He reached into the jacket pocket and pulled out a set of keys identical to April’s. Andre must have had a spare set.

  “That explains how you got in, but it doesn’t explain why.”

  Rico looked down at his feet. “I dunno. I guess I thought my dad might be here.” He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the hardwood floor.

  April’s face softened. She wanted to tell him his father would never leave him, that he’d be here if he could. But that was the same thing as telling him his dad was dead. She couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. What would be worse, thinking your dad abandoned you, or knowing he was dead? She couldn’t make that decision.

  “Why would you think he was here?” It was a deflection, and she hated herself for being so weak.

  Rico looked uncomfortable again. “My mom thinks you’re sleeping with my dad,” his face turned a bright shade of purple. “I was walking down the street and saw the light on, and, I don’t know… I thought he might be here.”

  “Your dad
and I weren’t—aren’t—involved,” she said, not able to make herself say sleeping with to a twelve year old.

  “Oh. Well, my mom says a lot of things.” He looked down at his feet again before looking at the gate. “What was that? Some kind of video?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she said. It was as good an answer as any.

  “It looks like just a regular window,” he said skeptically.

  “You know, you really aren’t supposed to be here,” she said. “I’m going to call your mom and have her come pick you up.”

  Rico backed away from her. “That’s okay… I’ll just walk home.”

  She placed her hand on her hip. “I can’t just let you leave. You broke into the library. I should be calling the cops.”

  Rico hung his head. “Fine,” he said glumly.

  “You stay here,” she said, and hurried back to Mae’s office. She made sure to take the black book with her—the last thing she needed was for Rico to open it while she was gone.

  She had to boot up Mae’s computer to find the employee contact list. Hopefull Rico’s mom was at Andre’s apartment and not somewhere else… after searching for what felt like forever, she finally found the contact list and wrote down the number. She hurried back out—she’d call from the phone on the reference desk so she could keep an eye on Rico.

  But when she walked out past the book shelves, the gate was open.

  Her heart suddenly pumped a million miles an hour. “Rico?” she called. She’d never be able to explain Rico seeing the gate to Dorian. There was a book open on the table. She lifted it so she could read the title, careful not to lose the page. The First Adventure of Braddy Evers.

  He must have taken the book down off the stand on her desk to look at it while she waited. Why had she left him out there by himself? She just assumed that everyone was like her and wouldn’t pick up a book unless they absolutely had to.

  “Rico?” she called, hoping he was in the library still. There was no answer. He couldn’t have left through the double-doors; she would have seen him through the office window.

  Growing more and more frantic, she checked the vault and the restrooms. Nothing.

  Finally she had to accept what she’d dreaded since she saw the open gate: Rico had gone into the pages of The First Adventure of Braddy Evers.

  Chapter Seven

  April debated over whether she should try to collect Dorian, Barty, and Randall before going to look for Rico, but if she did, that gave Rico even more time to stumble away from the gate.

  She glanced through the veil. The scene on the other side was dense, bright green forest. There was no sign of Rico. She’d have to go in and look for him.

  The air on the otherside of the veil was cool, and the forest’s undergrowth was spongey beneath her shoes. The sky through the trees above was just beginning to darken. The gate had opened in a door set into a small hill. Judging by the smell of sour grapes, it was used to store wine.

  “Rico?” she called. No response.

  A small trail worn into the forest led away from the cellar. It looked like the best bet for finding Rico, so she followed it. As she did, she could hear voices, and music. The trees quickly thinned, revealing an outdoor dining area filled with long mess-hall style tables. Sitting at the tables or chatting around a well-laden buffet were dozens of squat children.

  A band of musicians holding instruments that almost resembled acoustic guitars and flutes played from a wooden stage. The area was lined with tall torches stuck into the ground. Two dirt paths on either side of the dining area were also lined with torches.

  “Ms. Walker!”

  April turned towards the sound of her name, and relief flooded her body as she saw Rico. He waved her over enthusiastically.

  She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t for him to be sitting at one of the tables with a giant plate of food in front of him.

  She ran over. “Thank goodness you’re all right.”

  He grinned widely. “Can you believe this? When I saw the window open I thought the television or projector or whatever had turned on somehow, but then I saw that I could walk through it! I’m in Groundsville! This is amazing!”

  “Groundsville?” she asked.

  “You know—Braddy Evers hometown? Where all the groundlings live?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never read this book.”

  His mouth fell open. “You’ve never read The First Adventure of Braddy Evers?”

  She shook her head.

  “But you’re a librarian!”

  “Why is everyone always saying that?” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re okay with walking into a book world, but not with the fact that I haven’t read every book on the planet?”

  Rico shrugged.

  “We need to go back, now. Your mother will be worried sick.”

  Rico shrugged. “No she won’t. She doesn’t care about me at all.”

  “That’s not true,” April said, but didn’t know what else to say to make the words sound genuine.

  “Can’t we just stay for a little while longer? Labhras is about to put on the magic show!”

  She was going to insist they head back, but the look on his face changed her mind. His dad was dead because of her. The least she could give him was an hour of happiness.

  “Fine,” she said, and slid into the seat across from him.

  “Yes!” he said, forming his hand into a fist and pulling his arm back by the elbow emphatically. He reached for a cup of maroon liquid, but she grabbed it away from him.

  “I think you’ve had enough,” she said. She was about to toss it out, but it smelled sweet, so she took a draw.

  “That’s not fair,” he started, but she raised an eyebrow at him and he fell silent.

  “How long have you been here, anyway?”

  “A few hours at least,” he said.

  “A few hours? And what have you been doing that whole time?”

  He shrugged. “I came through the gate, and this groundling woman started yelling at me to help carry casks of wine to the party. So I did. Then she told me to do some other stuff—bringing out the food and all that. I’ve been sitting down for maybe fifteen minutes.”

  “So what’s with all the kids?” April asked.

  Rico’s voice got low. “They’re not kids. They’re groundlings. They live underneath the roots of trees.”

  April looked at the nearest groundlings, a man and woman who were seated at the same table as she and Rico. Their faces were lined, and the man had a beard. Definitely not children.

  “Eat up, Marn,” the woman said. “You’re getting too thin these days. We don’t want the hosts to think we don’t like their food, do we?”

  There were four plates stacked in front of Marn, and he was working on a fifth. He grunted and kept eating, his pace unaffected.

  “Groundlings eat a lot,” Rico whispered to April.

  “I see.” April leaned over and spoke to the woman. “What are we celebrating?” she asked.

  The woman eyed her suspiciously. “I think you need to slow down on yer wine, dear. It’s three-twelfs day. Everyone knows that.”

  “You’re right, I think I do need to slow down on the drinking,” April said. “What is three-twelfs day?”

  “It’s three twelfs of the way through the summer. I ‘spose next you’ll be asking what’s a-thirds day!”

  “But there’s only three months in the summer.” April hoped that wherever they were, the seasons were the same. “That means there’s a celebration like this every week?”

  “Aye,” the woman said, becoming quite serious. “Some people think it should be more often, but what with birthdays and deathdays and what not, there won’t be enough days for all the celebratin.’”

  Rico batted at her elbow, drawing her attention away from Marn and the woman. He pointed to a nearby clearing where a tall figure stood—more than twice as tall as any groundling they’d seen. “That’s him,” he said, the color drain
ing from his face.

  “Who?”

  “Labhras—the magician!”

  Though April had never read the books, she recognized the name. She focused more on the figure, and when she did, she made out the shape of a large top hat. In his hand was a long thin object that might have been a wand.

  “Oh,” she said. “Cool.”

  “Cool? It’s more than cool. That’s him! The magician!”

  April suppressed a giggle. “Do you want to go talk to him?”

  “No,” he said. “No. I can’t.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She watched the figure. “What’s he doing, anyway?”

  “He puts on magic shows for the groundlings’ celebrations and festivals.”

  “That must be a good gig,” April said, remembering what the woman had said about festivals, birthdays, and deathdays.

  Rico nodded. “He’s also the one that recruits Braddy to the adventure party.”

  The magic show was the best she’d ever seen. Labhras must have been practicing real magic, it was the only explanation for some of the feats he performed, including a puppet show where the characters were made up of colored lights.

  April looked down at Rico, expecting to see him watching the display. Instead, his eyes were on a man sitting at the table across from them. He held his daughter—who was no more than three—on his shoulders so she could see better. Rico’s smile was gone.

  “You okay?” April asked.

  He looked down at his empty plate. “My dad didn’t leave, did he?”

  Oh, no. April searched for words that could make the situation seem better. Why did it have to be her who decided what Rico knew and believed about the world?

  But she couldn’t lie. “No, he didn’t.”

  “He’s dead.”

  He waited for her to say something, but she couldn’t find the words. To respond felt too final, too harsh.

  “It was in a book, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. Not this one. A different one.”

  “Was it that one you were looking into? The one that was all black?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  The magician’s display ended in a finale of fireworks that exploded above their heads and brightened the sky, making Rico’s face as visible as if it were high noon. His features were as hard as stone.