Feeling as though he’d been charged with protecting more than The Book of Motion, he walked out to the balcony, Cicero’s old command post. He remembered how the old cat used to sit here for long hours, surveying the library as though he were the captain of his ship.
At first, he saw the dust in the air and confused it for smoke. He panicked, then quickly realized his mistake. But it might as well have been smoke—the library was in ruins.
He stood frozen to the floor, denying as long as possible that what his eyes saw was real. He wanted a closer look, because he couldn’t distinguish anything recognizable. Mounds of rubble were everywhere and some sort of confetti floated in the air.
He descended the staircase, every step sinking him deeper in despair. Shafts of moonlight coming through the window blinds sliced through plumes of dust. When he reached the ground floor, he saw the crumbling debris of what used to be books spilling off the shelves, disintegrated into pulp. The ones left standing had cracked and peeling covers.
He had no doubt that the evil Professor’s hand was in this, but he could not imagine what darkness lay within a human being who would annihilate a library. He thought of Alexandria and remembered hearing the cheers of men who celebrated the destruction of other men’s stories.
He climbed over the mounds of rubble in a daze. It wasn’t until a woman’s face peered out from the debris that he realized he’d been climbing over dead bodies. The woman was wrapped in a brown fur coat, now covered in a layer of ashy white powder. He looked out across the floor where the dust was clearing and saw the mounds for what they really were. Corpses. There was something odd about how they laid all in the same direction, as if they had collapsed in the same moment, just before reaching the wide front door.
Marco wandered the battle field. There were World War II soldiers carrying rifles, as well as women in ball gowns. There were men in baseball caps and top hats, women in flowered hats and scarves, and little girls in braids. There were boys with slingshots, pirates and circus clowns, all victims of a battle of good and evil they had lost.
Marco didn’t know how he knew, but it became obvious. The bodies were characters trying to escape the unspeakable horror of the death of their story.
He could go no further. He lay down between a circus clown and a cowboy and covered his head. He might as well be dead, too.
A shower of sparks rained down on him. Alaniah flew in circles around his head. “What are you doing in such a sorry state?”
Marco did not want to be confronted with his ‘sorry state’ and kept his head under the clown’s polka dot suit.
“Marco, do you think Cicero left you in charge so you could bury your head when things got tough?”
“I didn’t know it would get this bad,” he said.
“You think this is a walk in the park, as humans say, protecting such a powerful Book?”
He pulled his head out from under the clown, ready to argue. “I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this.”
Alaniah laughed. “You’re so funny, Marco. It will be interesting being your companion.”
“How can you say that? I’m not fit to be a Guardian. I haven’t completed my training. Alaniah, I have barely begun my training. I can’t do this!”
“If not you, then who?”
Marco fell silent. She had a good point, but he didn’t like it.
“You are not without resources,” she insisted.
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, it never fails to amaze me how short are the memories of earthly creatures. Cicero gave you a gift, didn’t he?”
“The words?”
“Of course, the words! Don’t you remember what happened when you spoke them?”
Marco remembered when he spoke them last—the demon beast who killed Cicero had been plucked from this world by a gryphon.
“Don’t forget these words.”
“How are words going to change this, Alaniah? Look at the library. It’s dead. Cicero’s dead. I wish I were dead.”
“Oh, youngling. You are so dramatic. Do you want this to be the end of your story?”
It was not a question. It was a challenge, and next to the ones Cicero had given him, these were probably the most powerful words Marco had ever heard. Their magic worked. No, he did not want this to be the end of his story!
“Words have power,” Alaniah said. “From the beginning of time, they have brought things to life. All it takes to bring the library back is the belief in their power. Words brought darkness to this place and it will be words that bring it back.”
Renewed, Marco ran back to the balcony for a better vantage point, Alaniah floating above him.
“Fa-taw-la-nee, rah-ma-la-nee, ma-fa-la-nee, moon-too-laaaah.” He kept repeating the words, but nothing happened.
Then he saw something scurry out from between one set of stacks and down another. Could it be another raccoon? He ignored it, thinking that he had bigger problems than raccoons, but he was unprepared for what happened next.
The creature who had rescued him from the hell hound, a gryphon, flew in from a far corner and landed on the top of a high shelf, where he preened his talons and feathers and fur. Marco was mesmerized by the magnificent creature, so much so that even as it flew towards him, and even as it attacked him, he was completely stunned. The bird-beast’s talons dug into Marco’s skin, gripping him as he plucked him from the ground. All Marco could think was that this creature saved him only to return and make him his prey.
The gryphon landed on top of a high shelf and released Marco from his talons. But Marco was not free; he lay stretched out, the gryphon holding him down by standing on him with his full weight.
Marco imagined that the beast would begin to pick him apart, piece by piece. Some magic that was; the words had done him no good. Here he was doomed to die, a little bit at a time. He knew it was useless to struggle, that it would only speed the process.
When the bird-beast moved his head down towards him, Marco closed his eyes. Not that it would help, but it was the only thing he was able to move. The gryphon’s beak parted his fur and Marco felt its razor sharp point on his skin.
It wasn’t until the gryphon had been combing over his body for several moments that Marco realized he wasn’t going to be eaten. He opened his eyes. The bird was grooming him.
When the gryphon finished, he remained on top of Marco, with his long tail waving gently down the side of the bookshelves. The bird bowed and touched his forehead to Marco’s head, and oddly enough, something about this gesture reminded Marco of Cicero.
The gryphon picked him up and flew back down, deposited Marco on the floor, then flapped his enormous wings and flew off.
Chapter 61: Angel in disguise
“Don’t you just love the library?” said Lily.
Marco was shocked to find her sitting calmly, not two feet away. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough to know I can’t tell anybody what just happened.”
Lily never ceased to amaze Marco. She seemed much older than the small white kitten she appeared to be.
Alaniah arrived in a shower of light. “Marco, there is no time to dawdle. You have work to do. I will open the door,” she said. They had been standing by the mirror and Marco and Lily were suddenly pulled through the portal and onto the steps down to the dark, dungeon-like chamber.
A cold draft greeted them. “Where do you think you’re going?” a voice whispered, and the cold air blew against Marco’s face.
Marco turned to Lily. “I don’t think you should be here.” Lily ignored him and kept walking steadily down the stairs next to him. The further down they got, the dimmer the light became. Marco looked around for Alaniah, but it seemed they were on their own.
The stairway, which he had seen before, looked very different now. The rock walls glowed with lights, dozen of small ones in pairs, like eyes. Then Marco realized they were eyes, imprisoned in the rock.