Page 14 of The Book of Doors

Barbary hummed thoughtfully, like a man studying a menu. “I wantyour books. I am just trying to decide whether or not I have to kill you first.”

Drummond nodded to himself. “It’s always about the books, isn’t it?”

Barbary shrugged. “What else would it be about?”

Drummond said nothing, watching the storm. It was a curtain between the two men and the world. In that moment, surrounded by the snow, the safety of other people and brighter places felt very far away.

“What do you have, Librarian?” Barbary asked, taking a step closer to Drummond, his eyes finally revealing the hunger of his soul. “What have you been carrying to keep you safe all these years?”

“I am not the Librarian anymore,” Drummond replied. “There is no library. It’s gone.”

It caused him pain to even acknowledge this truth, but he showed none of it on his face.

“That’s what I heard,” Barbary said, scratching his cheek idly. “Gone but not forgotten, eh? Many people are looking for the Fox Library.”

“Many?” Drummond asked skeptically. “I didn’t think there were many left. I thoughtshehad seen to that.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Barbary said. He removed his hat and ran a hand over his bald head. “I’m still here. There are others. Fewer than there were, that’s true. She’s picking people off one by one and taking their books. But it’s Darwinian, isn’t it? Survival of the fittest. I’m sure she’ll find me sooner or later, but I am okay with that. We’ll see how good she really is.”

“She’ll get to you,” Drummond said. “No one is safe. I know. I’ve met her.”

Barbary eyed Drummond for a moment as if considering this sobering assessment.

“Some people are safe,” he countered. “Those with the right sorts of books. The most powerful books.”

“Is that you, Hugo?” Drummond asked. “Are you carrying a powerful book these days?”

“Foolish of you to come to New York,” Barbary said, ignoring Drummond’s question. “You must have known it was a risk.”

“I had a craving for a hot dog,” Drummond murmured.

Barbary laughed once, the noise echoing around the arch above them.

“I’m tired,” Drummond said. “Can we get to the bit where you try to kill me, or where you leave me alone, please? Either is fine, but, you know, sooner rather than later.”

“Why don’t you just give me your books?” Barbary suggested. “Save me some trouble. I’ll let you live. I won’t even tell anyone I saw you.”

“How many books do you have now, Hugo?” Drummond asked. He was carrying three books himself, two in one pocket, and one in the other. He had gripped them as soon as he had slipped his hands into his pockets moments earlier, reassuring himself that they were there. The Book of Shadows was alone in his right pocket, open and bent back upon its spine. Drummond had grown used to carrying the book this way over the years. It was always ready for him to tear a corner from a page, to disappear into the shadows. In his mind he heard the words of the Book of Shadows like they were a good luck charm:The pages are of shadows. Hold a page and be of shadow too.

“It’s not the number of books that matters, is it?” Barbary replied. “It’s what one does with them.”

“Book of Pain?” Drummond asked. “That was always your favorite, wasn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t want me to use the Book of Pain, Drummond,” Barbary said. It was almost sympathetic, like he was concerned for Drummond’s health. “I’m very good with it. I enjoy it.”

The two men held each other’s gaze, Drummond giving no ground despite the fear that was tensing all his muscles. Then Barbary smiled. “There he is,” he said. “There is the Librarian. Backbone of iron. Just like when he ran away and left his friends to die.”

It was Drummond’s turn to look away then, to gaze off into the swirling snow.

“I wonder what favors the woman would grant me if I told her where you were?”

Drummond met Barbary’s gaze again, assessing the threat.

“Nah,” Barbary drawled. “I think I’ll just kill you and keep your books for myself.”

He jerked forward suddenly, an arm shooting out like a piston, but by the time it reached where it was going Drummond had moved.

“You have to catch me first,” Drummond said, one step away. In his pocket he tore a corner from a page in the Book of Shadows and clenched it in his hand. Almost immediately he felt that fragment of paper grow heavy in his palm, and as the weight increased he vanished into the snow, becoming shadow himself, intangible and invisible.

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