Somehow in the middle of this madness, he thought he saw Cicero, looking alive. He was speaking to him, but Marco couldn’t understand what he was saying. The dog was throwing himself against the magnolia tree, smashing Marco’s back against the trunk.
“The words, Marco!” said Cicero’s apparition.
The dog started to spin in circles.
Marco tried to hear what his mentor was saying.
“Remember the words!”
The words! He couldn’t imagine the words could help him now. He only remembered what a disaster it had been the last and only time he tried saying them. But he had no other options. “Faw…” he began, and with the utterance of that sound, he noticed a change, but it wasn’t for the better.
The hound was rolling in the dirt, frantically trying to dislodge him.
“Fawta…lani,” he continued haltingly.
The dog’s fangs clamped on to his hind leg and Marco clawed his way farther up so he was practically on top of the dog’s head.
“Nee!” The last word exploded from within him and he suddenly found himself airborne, still clinging to the hell hound. The ascent was swift and the pair twisted and swung violently in midair.
Marco lost his grip and fell. He landed on all fours and looked up to see what had happened to the dog. He had been snatched up by an enormous bird, something like an eagle, but with a body like a lion. The hell hound hung loosely in the talons of this strange flying creature. Marco sat motionless until both bird and dog disappeared in the sky, leaving him wondering if what just happened was a dream. When he returned to Cicero’s lifeless body, however, he knew it was no dream.
Chapter 59: The perfect society
The Professor turned away from the window. Half-witted hellhound, he thought. He was only supposed to extort information from Cicero, not kill him. He needed more control over his creatures. Now what would he do?
He hid out in the bathroom while the library shut down for the night. The mousy librarian would just assume he’d slipped out while she was busy. Besides, he thought with a smile, librarians would never suspect his kind of deception, except in books.
His palms were sweating again and he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief. It wasn’t there, which made him panic. Things were not going as planned and this small detail, the fact that he’d forgotten it, only increased his anxiety. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes.
He washed his face and hands and dried them thoroughly on the scratchy brown paper towel, refocusing on his quest. Hitler had his Spear of Destiny. He had obviously unlocked its secrets and would have ruled the world if… Well, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes Hitler made.
In his world, no one would ever die. People would pay dearly to join. It would be the perfect society because no one ever wanted to die. With an elite team of doctors and scientists working under his direction, he would exceed where all tin pot dictators had failed.
Calmed somewhat, he opened the bathroom door slightly. The library was darkened except for the green glow of the exit lights.
The Book was here, his ‘Book of Destiny’. There was no doubt that it belonged to him. He had been chosen. Once it was his, he would unlock its secrets and his dreams would come true. He would become the greatest magician of all time. Not a charlatan stage magician, but the kind who work behind the scenes, the ones who have the real power in the world.
Yes, he would be able to change himself to appear like anyone or anything he wanted, if the legends about the book were true. He erased that moment of doubt quickly from his mind. He’d come this far. The Finders and his Whisperer had helped him. It had to be true. It was his destiny, he felt it stronger than anything he’d ever felt and allowed himself to contemplate his future. Being able to appear however he liked would mean he could gain access to anyone, have the ear of any of the world’s leaders. With a jolt, he suddenly realized even Hitler himself could have been under his power!
He would have underlings do his dirty work and take the brunt of people’s anger. They wouldn’t mind, because he would hold their life in his hands. They would never have to face the awful prospect of death. They would be only too willing to do his bidding for the small exchange of their soul.
He walked slowly through the stacks, scraping his finger along the book spines. He couldn’t really imagine how a cat thought, but he had the notion that the book might be hidden in plain sight. It was worth exploring.
On a short, round table surrounded by orange plastic chairs was a children’s book with cartoon demons on the cover. Children made his skin crawl. They were disgusting and unmanageable and had no idea what a real demon looked like.
Other children’s books repelled him. Why would anyone want to go Fishin’ with Grandpa? He never let himself wonder if his childhood was tarnished. He rarely thought about it except when he caught a glimpse of the scars on his back. His throat tightened and he felt like he needed air.
Maybe the Book would be hidden in the history section. He located the Dewey Decimal numbers beginning with 930, histories of the ancient world, and began randomly pulling books off the shelves, throwing them on the floor. A rising sense of panic made him shudder and he had to calm himself again. He could not allow himself to lose control or let fear grab hold of him. He went down each aisle, randomly stabbing at books and creating holes in the order of things.
How could he be so close and not find it? He cursed Cicero for dying before he got the secret to its location. He cursed the demon beast for not obeying him. Then he cursed the library for hiding the Book.
Then logic prevailed. If the library would not cooperate, he would punish it. He got his book of spells from his satchel and found the curse. ”Murraq-di-fih cum-dan…i-fi…”
He moved through the library, making friends with the dark words, feeling their power grow with each repetition. Faint sounds came from within the library books, like the crackling of brittle paper. He kept moving through the stacks, unphased by cries and shouts. He began to enjoy the noise when he realized what it was, and just to commemorate the moment, he bowed to the characters as they began emerging from the books, trying to escape certain death.
“Murraq-di-fih, cum-dan-fi, re-quin-i-fi…” Louder this time. He repeated the chant over and over, amazed at his strength. The library was crumbling and he had performed this marvelous feat! The transformation took place before his eyes. When he had finished, the main hall looked like a tomb for dead books—a crypt, filled with corpses of characters who would never tell their story again.
He congratulated himself.
At first he didn’t recognize the figure in the mirror but it was dark. He checked the eyes staring back at him. Yes, they were his eyes, now yellow and glowing. This pleased him as well as the now-familiar metallic flavor on his tongue, a taste that accompanied his successes. A voice interrupted his self-admiration.
“You might need my help now,” said his Whisperer.
“Why? I’m doing well on my own.”
“You are looking at the mirror.”
“What’s your point?”
“What do you know about mirrors?”
Of course! How stupid of him. The door had been here the whole time. How could he have missed it?
“I have companions who will assist you,” hissed the Whisperer.
Suddenly the temperature dropped. The mirror reflected a ghostly phantom behind him and before he could blink, he was wrapped in a shroud and pulled through the portal, with barely enough time to notice the other creatures who gleefully trailed along for the free ride.
Chapter 60: The weight of a Guardian
Marco arrived in Cicero’s empty chamber, heavy with sadness and the weight of his new position. He never realized that becoming a Guardian meant losing his mentor and friend.