Storage Space

Leo smiled at Kathy, she leaning forward just enough to show a little cleavage. Hardly correct behaviour for a librarian, but her slow wooing of him was comfortable, familiar, like the library. He let his gaze wander the entrance hall, Kathy chattering idly, stamping his books back in. This wasn't just a library; it was a Library, with capitals and all the bells and whistles.

Leo had a thing for libraries; always had. Since he'd clutched his first ever library membership card, he'd loved them. He wasn't a religious man, but libraries came as close to a church as he needed. They held sacred texts, books filled with wisdom, teaching, with laughter, tears and all of life. Over the ensuing years he'd visited hundreds of libraries, but none had the temple-like power of this; Shepherd’s Green Library of the People.

It was the largest building in town. Some long-ago patron had built it to educate and edify the locals and he'd clearly wanted to impress importance of a library and the knowledge it contained. Almost every architectural style had been thrown at the building. Each nook and cranny held some Greek or Roman styling, some Gothic darkness, some English folly; even a Russian-inspired reading garden which took on the air of Red Square in the winter, all snow-covered domes.

The entrance hall was also domed, red brick topped with the most delicate stained glass depicting flowers and animals for every letter of the alphabet. Leo remembered causing a stir once, his mother's face scarlet with embarrassment when he'd refused to move. He'd dumped himself on the marbled floor, cold beneath his summer heated body, and started to name all the pictures in the soaring imagery above.

Kathy's mother had been head librarian then and maybe that eight-tear old who'd been stunned by a large, bosomy woman plonking herself down beside him had added to his fondness for the daughter. Together they’d named every picture, Kathy's mum supplying the ones he didn't know. She'd hauled herself slowly to her feet, when they were done, and then allowed him to take out an adult book about 'Creatures of the World'. Fond memories...

“Leo?”

Kathy's voice called him back and he smiled, winked and rocked his hand gently back and forth when she asked if he fancied the movies on Friday.

“Always maybe!” but she giggled as he blew her a kiss and strode into the echoing depths of the adult library.

The familiar smell brought an unconscious smile to his lips; dust, ageing paper, newsprint. High, arched windows allowed light to fall in long sweeps of barred illumination, each bar dancing with motes. As a child he'd thought the dust motes to be fairies, and his adult self couldn't quite shake the hope that it was so. He walked through the alternate stripes of light imagining gossamer winged pretties fluttering out of his path, rippling back to the dance as he moved away.

He paused by the stairs to the upper floors. They swept, full on Scarlett and Rhett in blinding white marble framed with brilliantly polished ebony rails. No movie star could have found a better place to swish a ball-gown. The crystal chandelier tinkled gently in a slight breeze from windows far above and out of sight. He waited, listening for their music, the choir of the stars. He felt a presence at his elbow, noted a small boy there.

“Sir?”

Leo was surprised by the formality.

“Can I help you?”

The child grinned and looked up, eyes full of reflected glitter.

“Do you think the Snow Queen made it?”

Leo had the grace to consider the child's question with serious demeanour.

“It sure looks like ice crystals to me. Maybe she did.”

“What if one of them got into your heart? Would she get you?”

Leo dredged his memory, recalled the fairy story.

“Hmm, I suppose it's possible, but you know something?” Leo paused, gratified and a little surprised to find the child raptly awaiting his answer, “I think you are safe as long as you don't stand under it. She can't get you then, right?”

The boy considered, looked up, down and stepped back a couple of paces. His face broke into an enormous smile, his nod enthusiastic.

“Thank you, Sir! I can tell my sister we're safe now!”

He started to run off, Leo calling after him, trying to keep his voice down.

“Hey, kid, what's your name?”

“Kai.”

“A word to the wise, Kai. The librarian doesn't like loud noises and she can be scarier than the Snow Queen!”

Leo winked, Kai grinned, laughed and disappeared toward the children's section.

“I heard that, Leo Henderson!” Kathy was trundling past with a book cart, “Who were you talking to?”

“That kid...”

Kathy looked but the boy was gone, the children's section, newer, open-plan, all points visible at all angles, was empty. Leo frowned, wondering how the boy and his sister had gotten by without his seeing, but Kathy was shaking her head.

“Talking to yourself, Leo? You know what that's a sign of.”

He shrugged, turning to continue to choose his books.

“I bet you know a cure and I bet it involves close association with you.” he threw back with a chuckle.

Half an hour later, having chatted to Old Man Green in his accustomed spot, reading the newspapers, Leo managed to head into the stacks. They towered, engulfing all who walked their teeming shelves. Every second stack had a built in seat. The seat was inset, over-arched by the books and lined with, sadly faded and threadbare, red velvet cushions. Leo took one of the seats, happily ensconced between Kerouac and Le Carre, and tried to decide between the detective novel and the summer blockbuster.

Looking up he noted a shadow at the base of the opposite stack. He was stunned into immobility as a tiny figure, no taller than a pencil, stepped out from a gap between the shelves and floated a paper airplane at him. The figure, wearing a deep hood, impossible to tell gender, slipped back into the shadows and the plane batted Leo's ankle before dropping to the floor. He bent, retrieved it but remained doubled over, scanning the shadows and shelves. No sign of movement. The little figure, so evocative of a Borrower from tales of his childhood, had vanished. If not for the paper plane in his hand he would have thought himself dreaming.

He carefully unfolded the plane, noting it was a piece of library issue paper, supplied for making notes, ISBN numbers, titles and the like. It held a single sentence:

'Now you have seen us be here tonight at midnight.'

Leo's mind teemed with questions. Seen who? How was he to be in a locked library at midnight? Was this some joke perpetrated by Kathy? Why was he even considering trying to comply? His thoughts running over each other, Leo rose, thinking to go outside, get some air and clear his head. He stopped dead, sinking back into the seat.

In every direction figures filled his vision. There was Kai, and was that really Gerda beside him? The hood now removed, Arrietty and Pod stood near his feet. A young woman, fingers stained with ink, tumbling curls awry, smiled and nodded from a writing table. Was that really Jo March? A low clatter grew in intensity, a black horse galloping through the stacks, a true beauty. A man, tall, proud, an ornate sword at his side, a slender coronet on his brow, walked with a delicate young woman, a third figure, another woman with clear kinship to the man, whispered in his ear. Arthur? In the shadows those less taken with light moved, the shifting form of an infamous count, the lumbering pathos of created creature, the confused howl of a man turned wolf.

A single form detached from the thousands, approached and bent to sit in the opposite alcove.

“You know me?”

Leo nodded, unable to drag his eyes away from the flowing beard, the hat, the smoke rings dancing through each other, changing colours as he puffed on a long slender pipe. Was there anyone who would not recognise Gandalf?

“We need your aid, young man. There is an alcove unlike the rest. It was created by the founder of the library, Xavier de Cruse. Between F and G. Sit and turn. Wait there until midnight.”

Before Leo could reply the tall man, erect, in no need of the staff he bore, dressed in gleaming, purest white, rose and walked away.

In a daze, Leo wandered to the aisle, gazed down at the appointed seat and decided he was actually going crazy. All about him walked literary characters, gleaned from every book he had ever read and thousands he didn't even know. Not a single patron of the library appeared to be seeing as he did. They went about their business as if it were any other day. He felt unutterably weary, dropping into the alcove seat with unfeigned relief. With a species of acceptance, the kind which allows you to drop the burden onto others who know better, Leo tried to turn left in the seat, was jolted when nothing happened and was almost too numb to react when Sam wandered by, rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb to the right. Leo complied, the seat rolled smoothly and deposited him in a single person sized room within the stacks.

He must have slept because he was deeply disorientated when the seat revolved and returned him to the library, now lit by a sliver of a moon, deep shadows sliding across the now empty floor. Empty of all but a long and winding double line of literary characters. He went unresisting, allowing Wendy to draw him to his feet, Peter swooping and soaring before them, urging them on. Leo passed between the lines, all those familiar and often beloved faces now grave.

Finally Wendy let his hand fall away, leaving him in a circle of characters, Gandalf once more taking the role of spokesman. A smile and a nervous laugh broke the tension, Leo unable to be stern as Pooh and Tigger dragged a chair to the circle and ushered him to sit down. Gandalf gave an indulgent smile and then his face stilled.

“Forgive us, Leo. We were perhaps a little eager. You can know nothing of your family, your purpose. Will you allow me to explain?”

“I have a choice?”

Gandalf grew instantly stern, Leo suddenly understanding just how powerful a character this was, one to endure the test of time.

“There is always choice, Leo. Your time of choosing comes tonight. May I continue?”

Leo nodded, too awed to trust his voice.

“You are a De Cruse. You know of course, that you were orphaned, given into the care of locals and brought up as their own, but this time was always to come. You have always felt that this library was special, have you not?”

Leo nodded, caught a few appreciative smiles from the assembled crowd.

“It is more special than you realise. Xavier De Cruse built the library as a storage space, but he was an extraordinary man. He realised that the characters humans believe in, truly and deeply with all their heart, take on a reality of their own. Unable to be a part of life, unseen by most but those with the gift, these characters were left to wander with no place to be.

Gradually, with nowhere to go, nothing to protect them, characters were beginning to fade, to disappear. Do you know what happens to characters who are forgotten?”

Leo shook his head, but deep inside he had a horrible inking that he did know.

“They fade into nothing, Leo. It is as if they have never been. For every character that fades away a book dies. It will never be read again. Those characters will never inspire, teach, give laughter or sorrow to a human mind. Each such loss is detrimental to humanity, to the collective intellect....”

Gandalf paused, sighed and shook himself free of grief-filled memory. A shivering sigh ran around the assembled imaginaries and Leo was not immune. He wanted to shed tears for all those lost thoughts, words and emotions which could never be recalled.

“They are gone forever?” he asked, fighting a heavy lump in his throat.

“Eternally” Gandalf replied, “But let us move on. Xavier gave us a place to be, a safe haven where we will always be surrounded by books and people who love books and all they offer. We do not forget those who are lost. What is done cannot be changed, but the future is in your hands, Leo.”

“Mine?”

“Take these.” Leo was handed a manilla folder and a key by Sherlock Homes, this time barely registering the strangeness, “Read, open the bank box, and do what you must with the knowledge you will gain. For now we have one question of you.”

Leo felt every character move fractionally toward him, their eagerness for his answer palpable in the air.

“Leo de Cruse, do you vow to protect the Library and the characters held within until such time as you shall pass the duty to your chosen heir?”

He didn't hesitate. He had no idea what the folder, the bank box contained, but every fibre of his being knew this was his place in the world.

“I so vow”

With the cheers of thousands ringing in his ears, Leo began his new life...