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I inhaled as I walked through the door and
drew the scent of books and old paper deep into my lungs before I
exhaled with a deep, appreciative sigh. I don’t care how popular
e-readers became or how handy they were, there’s nothing quite like
the sight and smell of shelves full of books. It was a good thing I
had gotten this job at Baker’s, I was well on my way to becoming as
much of a book collector as my boss, and working here gave me the
security of being surrounded by books and all the possibilities
that they held between their covers.

And that’s what books are, possibilities, the
chance to get away, even if it’s only for a little bit. To visit
somewhere new, somewhere exciting; to meet new people, run with
werewolves or fly with dragons, the adventures were endless.

I greeted Mr. Baker and walked around behind
the counter and dumped my book bag with a heavy “whumph”, a sound
that made the older man wince a little. As much as I loved books,
textbooks have always been on a completely different level, and I
didn’t really view them as books at all, but instead objects of
mind numbing torture that I had to be put through on a nightly
basis.

“How are you this afternoon, Miss Alexander,”
Mr. Baker asked in his overly formal way.

“Doing fairly well, Mr. Baker,” I replied
cheerily. Some of the knots in my shoulders relaxed as I soaked in
the atmosphere.

“Good to hear, though I couldn’t help but
notice a discoloration on your jaw, and would like to inquire as to
the cause of such bruising.”

“Ah,” I said and reached up to lightly touch
the tender area. “I slipped on some water in one of the bathrooms
and smashed my face into the sink at school.”

Ok, it was a lame excuse and I could tell
that Mr. Baker believed me as much as he believed in flying pigs,
which, needless to say, was not at all.

Still, for all his odd ways he was a kind
hearted man, and not one prone to prying into the personal business
of his employees (which consisted, at the moment, of just myself)
and he let it go with a slight huff through his graying
mustache.

“Very well,” he said and picked up his
glasses from the countertop and placed them on his nose. I once
asked him why he didn’t wear them while working at the register,
and he replied that if his vision was fuzzy it helped keep him from
seeing his beloved books walking out the door. I then asked him why
he sold them if he was so attached to them, to which he responded
that even book lovers had to make a living somehow. Considering I
knew for a fact that he was richer than Midas and his bookstore was
only a hobby that statement made no sense, but it was Mr. Baker and
he was something of the Town Eccentric, so I let his logic go.
Otherwise I’d have to deal with a major migraine every time I
walked through the door.

“What time are you wanting to go to dinner,
Miss Alexander,” he now asked as he gathered up the three books he
had laid open on the counter and marked his place carefully with
bookmarks. There were no turned down pages here, and if anyone
DARED to try and dog-ear a book in his presence, they would be
subjected to an hour-long lecture about how that’s disrespectful to
the nature of the book. I know because I once timed him.

“I was thinking around six if that works for
you, Mr. Baker,” I said. “That way I won’t have to leave again
until after closing.”

“Yes, very good. I shall return then to
relieve you so that you may take nourishment, and expect you back
around seven.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I watched him gather
his books into his arms and walk out the door.

I yawned and stretched before I reached into
my book bag and pulled out my math homework so I could work on a
few problems. It was highly unlikely that we’d get any customers
for at least another hour, so I resolved to try and get as much of
my less than pleasant homework finished. I had moved onto Biology
when the door opened, and with a sigh I replaced my homework back
into my book bag. Mr. Baker was lenient about working and reading
while the store was quiet, but whenever there were customers all
attention needed to be on them. I was kept busy for about forty
five minutes with a steady stream of visitors, some who bought
books and some who bought a few of the more unique knick knacks,
like one of the raven necklaces Mr. Baker had picked up on his last
trip to Boston. I gave it a mournful look as the happy new owner
placed it around her neck and bounced out the door. I had been
trying to save up some extra money to purchase the necklace for
myself, as I love ravens and Poe’s poem in particular, but as is
the way with fate it was not meant to be mine.

There was a lull in
customers around five thirty, so I took the time to hunt through
the mythology section and see if I could find anything for the
project. I managed to locate a book on Japanese myths and
monsters
on the shelves, and a quick scan
showed that they had an entry on the
Tengu
but nothing on the
Oni
. Further searching
yielded one more book, but couldn’t find anything else, which
surprised me as we had a thriving Japanese animation and graphic
novel fanbase at both my school and the community college that Mr.
Baker liked to cater to, but perhaps there had been a run on these
types of books since Halloween was a few weeks away and people
would be looking for costume ideas.

I gave a little cry of surprise when I ran
across a book on Cherokee myths, and quickly pulled it off the
shelf. I had started to glance through it when the door opened and
Mr. Baker walked in.

“Do you mind if I borrow these, Mr. Baker?” I
asked and held up the three books I had found.

“Not at all, Miss Alexander, just make sure
you sign them out.”

I returned to the counter and pulled out the
three ring binder that Mr. Baker kept for me to be able to write
down the titles, authors and ISBNs of any books that I wanted to
borrow. I couldn’t keep the books for longer than a few weeks, but
this way he could keep track of where his books that hadn’t sold
were, and a lot of the times it led to the borrowed books being
purchased by said borrower. Mr. Baker may have been eccentric, but
he was a savvy businessman and had made sure that I was a big
reader when he had hired me. The majority of my own collection had
been purchased here, and I always pretended to not notice how he
would grin and rub his hands together gleefully whenever I’d walk
out with yet another former item of his.

I quickly signed out the books, placed them
into my bag and slung said monstrosity over my shoulders. Promising
that I would be back around seven, I headed out the door, thankful,
not for the first time, that the bookstore was close enough to a
food court that I could walk to and not waste gas by having to
drive somewhere. The only downside was that the walk was a little
darker than most, being that the bookstore was on the outskirts of
town and I would have to go through the town’s small park to reach
the outdoor mall. Still, I didn’t feel too worried as the sun sank
towards the horizon until I was well inside a small copse of
trees.

I hummed lightly and looked up at the leaves
that had just started to take on a hint of their Fall Splendor when
something dropped an ice cube down my back. The small hairs on the
back of my neck lifted up and cut off my song mid-note. My
shoulders hunched up towards my ears and tensed as my breathing
deepened. Someone was watching me. I heard a footstep behind me and
whirled, but the only thing I saw a darkened path and deep shadows.
I shook my head and tried to banish my sudden irrational fear as I
turned around and started to walk towards town again.

But I knew my fear wasn’t irrational when I
heard another footfall behind me. I sucked in a deep breath, and as
I walked I casually moved my book bag to my right shoulder and
eased my left arm free. I made sure that I had a good grip with
both hands on the other strap. I slowed my pace a little, and heard
more footsteps as they came closer, and closer . . .

A sudden flapping of wings over my head
startled me, and I cried out, spun on my right foot and swung my
book bag off my shoulder and out in an arch. There was a satisfying
thud that jarred the bag in my hands along with a cry of pain and a
crash as my weapon of choice connected solidly with whoever was
behind me. I finished my swing and pulled back for another one when
the person I had smashed to the ground groaned and held up their
hands.

“Damn, Alexander, I know I said your book bag
should be classified as a weapon, but I never expected you to use
it as such!”

“Akira, oh my god!” I cried as I recognized
that honey accented voice instantly and my eyes slowly picked out
his features from the shadow he had fallen into. I dropped my book
bag and went to his side, crouching down as he slowly sat up and
rubbed his right arm.

“Nice aim,” he said, his voice dry.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you
behind me,” I said and reached out to lightly touch his arm, but
jerked back when I felt a strange, hot spark arch between us. He
didn’t seem to notice my withdrawal, as he was too busy being
preoccupied with rubbing his arm and wincing. I was suddenly angry
as my infamous temper took over the worry, and I snapped, “You
should have said something instead of skulking behind me! Why did
you hide in the trees when I turned around the first time, were you
deliberately trying to scare me? If so, then you deserve more than
a bruised arm!”

“What do you mean, ‘did I hide in the trees
when you first turned around?’” he asked, and even in the semi dark
I could see his eyes sharpen on my face, bruised arm seemingly
forgotten.

“I thought someone was behind me, and you
were, but when I turned around after I heard your footsteps no one
was there, and there are no bends for a ways back, so I would have
seen you if you hadn’t ducked and hidden from me,” I groused.

“Alexander, I assure you, I was only behind
you for thirty seconds before you went all caveman and clobbered
me. I was just about to call your name when you hit me with that
monstrosity you call a book bag. You must have been hearing
things.”

“I was not hearing things!”

“Whatever,” he said and climbed slowly to his
feet. He casually brushed his pants off and I noticed dark,
elongated shapes falling to the ground. I bent down and picked up a
jet-black feather.

“What did you do, fall on some poor raven
when I hit you?” I asked. I looked curiously at the sheer amount of
feathers that were scattered around him. I thought that the
majority of them looked like primary flight feathers, if I
remembered correctly from my brief stint as a bird enthusiast
(short lived, and Maria had threatened to never speak to me again
when I mentioned possibly finding a real stuffed raven to display
in my room), but I could also see what I thought were smaller down
and secondary feathers mixed into the grouping.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit some poor raven
at the same time you hit me?” he quipped back and stretched his
neck. He let out a deep groan of pleasure when it popped
loudly.

“Oh, ick,” I said and slung my book bag back
onto my shoulders. “I don’t know how you can stand doing that, the
sound alone makes my stomach churn.”

“Feels good,” he replied with a cheeky
grin.

“I’ll take your word for it. Are you, um,” I
hesitated, sighed. “Are you all right?”

“A little bruised,” he said and rotated his
arm a little as we resumed walking towards the food court, “But
nothing that’s going to affect my game.”

“What were you doing behind me in the first
place?” I asked, not realizing how tense I was until the lights of
the food court came into view and I felt my book bag drop about an
inch as my shoulders relaxed.

“When I asked the old man that was in the
bookstore where you were, telling him we had a project to work on
when he gave me the hairy eyeball, he informed me that you had
‘gone to obtain sustenance in the eatery below, but shall return
momentarily’. I assumed he meant that you had gone to grab some
dinner from the shopping area on the other side of this park, and I
was right. By the way, does he always talk like that?”

Akira was genuinely bemused, and I hid a
grin. I wondered if they had the same equivalent of an eccentric
old man over in Japan.

“He does,” I said, amusement lacing my words.
“He’s very eccentric, has traveled all over the world and collected
books and other odds and ends. Most of what you saw in the store is
his personal collection.”

“Huh.”

“Haven’t you ever run into someone who would
talk in an overly formal way, or who maybe collects things that
would be considered odd by mainstream society?”

“Well, there’s a few odd ball fashions like
the Lolita craze . .”

“Is that the one where girls dress up to try
and resemble dolls?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Akira confirmed. “But I’ve
only ever run into someone who had an overly formal way of speaking
once, and that was an old college professor who came and gave a
guest lecture about wood block prints. His language was so archaic
we could only understand about one word out of a dozen. He was
extremely polite with his language, too, almost overly formal, I
guess.”

“Well, there you go,” I said. “Mr. Baker just
likes to be extremely formal, that’s all. Probably has something to
do with his travels. ”

By this time we had reached the other side of
the park and were surrounded by restaurants of all types. One good
thing about being a tourist destination is the wide variety of
eateries a person can enjoy. I headed straight for Sloppy Joe’s, a
hamburger joint that had been around for well over sixty years and
was extremely well known for their made to order burgers and
milkshakes. It also helped that they were fast, too, and had
quickly become one of the favorite weekend haunts for my fellow
peers and other people that tended to worship all things surgery
and greasy. I’m not really sure what I thought Akira was going to
do, but he surprised me by following me into the diner and settling
down in the booth across from me.