The Librarian (Book One: Little Boy Lost) (5 page)

RANDY WAS FLIPPING through the book he “won” while walking down the library’s spiral staircase and didn’t notice Ms. Easton climbing the stairs from the opposite direction.
 

  
“There you are!” the teacher said. He looked up from the page. She was stomping toward him, furious over something. It was a look he’d seen before, a look that usually landed him in detention.

  
Ms. Easton grabbed him by the arm, digging her nails into his skin for extra measure.
 

  
“Owww!”

  
“You better hope I don’t find out you had something to do with this.”

  
“What?!” he asked. “Ms. Easton, stop!
 
I didn’t do anything!”

  
“Oh yeah?” They stopped at the foot of the staircase. She gave him a violent yank, wheeling him around to make sure he was facing the right direction. She wanted him to see what she was talking about. “Well, somebody did.”

  
They were back in the library’s main hall where someone had tipped the
Peter Pan
table onto its side, spilling the replica items from the display onto the floor.
 

  
Randy let himself look over the display as they passed. It was in shambles. A thin layer of dust covered everything and glowed like the glitter they sometimes used in Mr. Tolbert’s art class. Someone had ripped most of the feathers from the headdress before tossing it across the room. The large hook was missing, but there was a jagged hole in a nearby window where shatter lines reached across the glass like a bolt of lightning. Randy could picture the hook lying in the green grass outside. He spotted the clock with the crocodile head lying next to it just as Ms. Easton led him into the building’s dark lobby. The crocodile seemed to be grinning at him. Maybe it was laughing. The croc was stuffed which made it impossible to tell.

MOST OF THE children were lined up with Ms. White near the bus just outside the library’s gate. Ms. Easton came down the walk with Randy, though she’d let go of his arm and was allowing him to walk beside her of his own accord.

  
“Don’t forget this one’s riding home with dad,” Ms. Easton told Ms. White who answered with a thumbs-up. She had a clipboard in hand and was busy taking an early head count of the students waiting to get back on the bus.

  
Randy followed Ms. Easton toward a dark town car parked directly behind the bus. Randy’s dad was already climbing out of the passenger seat, ready to greet them. “I’ve said it before,” he began. “You’re tougher than I’ll ever be, Ms. Easton.” Douglas Stanford was middle-aged and wore a slate colored suit with three black buttons down the front. His shoulders were broad, like Randy’s. His hair was slick. “I can’t imagine trying to wrangle this many kids together for a trip like this.”

  
“It usually isn’t too bad,” Ms. Easton explained. “This trip was something of a mixed bag for our guy. It started off great. His entry in the library’s writing contest won him best in show.”

  
“Wow! That’s great. You know?
I
won that
same contest
when
I
was a kid.”

  
The teacher frowned. She knew that was the only good news in her bag to deliver. “But, I’m afraid he ruined what could have been a gold-star day when he tried to steal a piece from one of the library’s displays.”

  
“Really?” His eyes narrowed. “What did he take?”

  
“A dagger.” She was hesitant to keep going but did. “Then, and I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but after I took the dagger from him, someone sneaked back into the library and destroyed the
Peter Pan
exhibit he stole it from. So—“

  
“You thought it was reasonable to accuse my son?”

  
Ms. Easton prepared for the inevitable. Most parents handled a situation like this one of two ways: either taking aim at the teacher or their kid.

  
“Well, I’m sorry if he made your day any more difficult than it needed to be. We’ll be sure to sit down tonight and have a long talk about all of this.”

  
Both looked down at Randy. He felt their eyes on him but didn’t acknowledge the adults. While he’d been secretly stewing over his father’s reaction for the last few hours, that was now the furthest thing from his mind – the least of his worries. The windows on Douglas’s car were heavily tinted, but Randy could see there was a large man sitting in the backseat. He didn’t know who it was but just seeing the hulking figure left Randy worried he’d have to share a seat with the faceless man on the way home.

  
“The kids had a great time,” Ms. Easton said, moving on. “I hope you guys will think twice before going through with your demolition. Once this place is gone there’s no bringing it back.”

  
“You’re preaching to the choir on that one.” Randy looked up at his dad. He had thought his father’s company had something to do with the new library and was happy to hear Douglas preferred this one to something new. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, trust me.”

  
Ms. Easton rubbed the top of Randy’s head, looking at him almost apologetically before saying goodbye. “See you tomorrow, bud.” Douglas watched her hips sway back and forth as she sauntered away then looked down at his son.
 

  
Randy braced for the worst, but Douglas could only hold his stern look for so long before the line of a dark grin split his face.

  
“Peter Pan’s dagger, huh?” He patted his boy on the back before walking toward the library gate. “My boy! C’mon. Let’s go inside a minute. I need to check on something.”

  
Confused, Randy started down the walk after him. “Dad... I... I think they’re closing.”

  
“Don’t worry,” Douglas answered. His smile widened. It was easy to see where Randy got his crooked smile – that conman’s grin. “The librarian and I are old friends.”

  
Randy quickly caught up with his father then stole a quick glance over his shoulder. The dark figure was still sitting in the car’s back seat. He hadn’t moved – not an inch since Randy first noticed him.

MS. EASTON APPROACHED Ms. White who’d just finished her initial count before allowing their students back onto the bus.

  
“Well?” Ms. Easton began. “We got em all?”

  
Ms. White shook her head. “I’ve counted twice. We’re missing two. And you’ll never guess who.”

WESLEY AND TAYLOR surveyed the wreckage someone left behind in the library’s main hall.

  
“What happened?” Wesley asked.

  
“Beats me,” Taylor shrugged. “I was with you.” She ran the tip of her finger through the thin layer of dust on a nearby table. It came alive in the light, a million tiny diamonds buried in the dirt. “What is this stuff?”

  
“Fairy dust,” Wesley explained. “It’s supposed to be, anyway.” He took a small canvas pouch from the floor, inspecting it quickly before handing it to Taylor. It was empty, but there was enough of the shiny residue on the fabric to suggest the strange dust had once been inside the pouch.

  
Taylor shook her head, tossing the pouch aside and heading for the exit. “All right. C’mon. We gotta go.”

  
“What?! We can’t just leave.” His words were loud and shrill.

  
She stopped short of the lobby. “No way, Wes. I’m not getting blamed for this. Everyone’s already outside. Let’s just go.”

  
“But you
know
. Tay, you
know
there’s something going on around here. How can we just get on the bus and forget about it?”

  
Taylor looked toward the exit and frowned. She’d never admit it aloud, but Wesley was right. There was something going on, and in a few months a wrecking ball would have its way with the old building. All the evidence would be gone.

  
When Wesley saw the expression on her face he knew he was about to get his way. “Five minutes,” she said in an adult voice. “That’s all you get. After that, I’m gone.”

  
Wesley quickly started down one of the corridors that led away from the main hall. There was a strange oil painting on the wall just a few feet ahead. He went straight for it.

  
“What kind of puzzles do you think the librarian was talking about?” he said as he began to feel along the painting’s frame, his fingers searching for latches or buttons or hidden levers – anything he could use to open the painting like the librarian had done before. “You think there’s something hidden behind all of these?”

  
“Do you really wanna find out?” Taylor asked.

  
“You gave me five minutes. You think I’m going to spend it checking out books?”

  
She grinned as he stepped away from the painting. “I wonder if the librarian—“ She stopped short, ears perked, quickly shifting gears. “Did you hear that?”

  
“Hear what?” Wesley asked.

  
“It sounded like—“

  
SNIFF! SNIFF! SNIFF!

  
“There! There! You hear that?!”

  
He did. It was coming from an unlit room a little further down the hall, and at first, Wesley was sure he knew exactly what they were hearing. It was the same quiet rustle his black lab made when sniffing out a trail or searching for a lost bone.

  
But what’s a dog doing in the library?

  
SNIFF! SNIFF!

  
Wesley stepped into the blackness of the room with Taylor right behind. The sniffs weren’t coming in the same staccato rhythm his dog made. His dog’s were quick. In and out, in and out. These sounds were slow and muffled – like a child with a cold or a kid coming down from a hard cry.

  
“How do you work these things?” Taylor asked. She’d found one of the library’s gas powered lights but struggled to turn it on until she found a long, decorative switch that turned like a key.

  
Soft light flooded into the room. Wesley was first to spot the wild-haired boy hiding beneath a table in the center of the room. He sat with both knees pulled into his chest and was looking up at Wesley and Taylor like they were the ones who didn’t belong. A padlock was dangling on a long cord that circled his neck, and there was a ring of keys hanging from his waist.

  
“Hello?” Taylor whispered. “Are you okay?”

  
His eyes were bloodshot, tears tracking down his olive-colored cheeks.
 

  
Taylor inched toward him, but Wesley stayed put. There was something about the boy. Something hiding beneath the surface. He’d trained himself to spot dangerous situations before they occurred, a skill all bullied children eventually learn. For some reason this kid in tattered clothes reminded him of a coiled snake ready to strike.

  
“What’s wrong?” Taylor whispered, offering the boy a hand. “It’s okay. What’s your—“

  
The boy sprang from under the table, grabbing Taylor and shoving her across the room like she was stuffed with feathers and made from rags.

  
“Don’t!” She screamed. Her voice was high and shrill as it left the room and echoed down the hall. He pulled a dagger from the sheath on his belt. “Please! Don’t!”

  
The boy didn’t listen, moving toward her, closer, pulling the blade back before firing it into her—

  
But Wesley wouldn’t let him.

  
Wesley quickly stepped in, snatching the stranger’s hand and guiding the dagger away from his friend before pushing the boy away and pinning him to the wall.

  
Taylor stared in disbelief.

  
The boy shoved Wesley across the room. Wesley’s skinny body slammed into a nearby desk, falling to the floor as a pile of books came crashing down all around him.

  
Wesley looked up just in time to see his attacker coming down on him, the dagger raised above his head like the stinger on a scorpion, poised and ready.

  
Quick to react, Wesley grabbed a book from the pile, holding the shield of paper in front of him with both hands and squeezing his eyes shut. The knife sliced through the book, but the tip of its blade stopped just short of Wesley’s throat when the dagger’s hilt caught on the book’s thick cover.

  
Wesley opened his eyes. The boy was straddling him, but Wesley had survived the initial blow and that was enough to get his heart pumping faster than it already was and sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.

  
He braced his feet against the boy’s chest and pushed with all the strength his bony legs would allow. The stranger stumbled, and the gored book flew through the air, landing at Taylor’s feet where she quickly picked it up.

  
“Go, Tay! Go!!”

  
Wesley lunged for the door. The boy grabbed at his ankle, but Wesley used an outstretched hand to keep from falling. He righted himself then tore through the door after Taylor, limbs flailing.

  
“Wait!” Taylor yelled. She stopped in the corridor just outside the door. Wesley nearly ran her over.

  
“What’re you doing?!”

  
“Who is that kid?” she asked. She was remarkably calm given everything that had just happened.

  
“I don’t care, Tay!” Wesley couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “He tried to kill us! We need to get Ms. Easton. Now!”