The Librarian: A Remnants of Magic Novel (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 2) by Casey White (read ebook pdf txt) 📕

grabbing the magazine from Daniel. “Cool,” he muttered. He fumbled in his own jacket, taking the emptied pistol from within.

That was about as good as Daniel could do. He took a deep breath, then nodded.

“Come on,” he said. Leon’s hand was warm as he took it, holding tight. “Let’s go.”

Slowly, glancing around furtively, they hurried out into the evening.

Faster. His wounded leg stung, searing at the renewed motion. Before they come around the motel. Before they see us.

For a moment, though, he hesitated, giving in to the ache of his leg. He waited, his nerves singing, until James and Maya hurried past. A twinge of relief washed over him.

Rickard was here for him. Not them. It sounded like Daniel had managed to piss him off, and that wasn’t good, but...he exhaled slowly. The least he could do was put himself between his friends and the bullets that’d be coming.

The yells rose louder and louder. Leon’s hand tightened around his. “Hey,” Daniel heard him hiss. “Come on.”

Daniel smiled. “Right.”

Back to hobbling it was. His eyes snapped forward again, searching their surroundings. He needed the next move. He needed to keep them a few steps ahead of Rickard.

The motel Maya had found for them lingered right on the edge of town, with the roar of the highway just beyond the limits of ‘audible’. If Daniel stared off down the streets around them, he could glimpse houses beyond—but all he saw close at hand were old warehouses and worn-down shops, advertising automotive repair services and hardware catalogs in faded, peeling letters.

All of them were dark, at least. They were owned by sane people, then, who stayed in their beds during the proper hours. His group wouldn’t be spotted and reported to the police.

Probably.

“Keep going,” Daniel called, raising his voice as much as he dared. He’d picked out a particularly big garage-looking structure a block ahead, with a deliciously dark alley winding along one wall. Surely there’d be somewhere else for them to hide, up there. “Get under cover.”

James nodded curtly. He’d latched on to Maya, all but towing her along. The bruises covering his skin were starting to turn horrible greens and purples, though, and despite his determination, he was starting to limp again.

He needed a rest, Daniel knew. A proper one, not fifteen minutes of sleep claimed here or there while stuffed into a car and fleeing.

All of them needed a rest.

Grass crunched under their feet, and Daniel winced. It was too damn loud. Rickard’s men would hear them. He kept his eyes glued to the alley ahead, to where the asphalt road met the grass and gravel of the motel’s lot. Olivia hurried along beside him, but twisted back. “Are they-”

“Come on,” Daniel muttered. Gathering his strength, he grabbed at her arm, jerking her to follow.

“Stop squirming,” Leon said.

Halfway there. Halfway out across the open, to their shelter. Soon, they could-

“Hey!” someone cried from behind. “Over here! They’re-”

“Shit,” Daniel lurched forward, ignoring the pain that spiked through his leg. “Faster.”

It wouldn’t be fast enough. He could hear the voices building from the motel, and despite himself, despite how he’d reacted to Olivia, he couldn’t keep himself from glancing back.

That man stood on the grass, staring right at them. The one who’d stooped low at the minigolf park, scooping up the droplets of Daniel’s blood.

A shiver ran down Daniel’s spine as their eyes met. It was as though the man was staring straight through him.

That’s him, the voice inside him whispered. That’s the man who did this. He followed you.

The tracker.

Leon’s hand became a vise. Daniel stumbled as Leon dragged him on. “Run,” Leon gasped. “Run!”

“Stop!” Someone else, now. A man. “Just- Just stop!”

But they were already pounding down the street toward the garage. Houses dotted into the mix of structures, small and nondescript, with scraggly trees clinging to life along the cracked and shattered road. Daniel lumbered on. Every step was fire—but with every step, a bit of the pain went away, turning to heavy numbness.

Not good. Far from good. But he’d take it.

“Cyril!” he heard an accented voice cry, and glanced back again.

Cyril staggered around the corner of the motel, still clinging to his hammer. His skin was ashen, and dribbles of what looked like blood oozed from his nose, but he ran ahead gamely.

His fingers tightened around the handle of the hammer—which he held up, pointing the weapon toward Daniel.

Light flared. Daniel shied away, throwing up an arm to shield his eyes. “No,” he whispered, trying to stir himself on faster. “We have to go, before-“

The blinding light dimmed to an unearthly glow, and Daniel let his arm fall. He already knew what he’d find.

A golden dome, dropped neatly over their corner of the town. Motel, city street, and garage—the whole lot of it cut off from the world. Isolated.

And now, there was nothing keeping Rickard’s group from making good on his threats.

“Get behind me,” Daniel gasped, pushing Leon back.

“Daniel, no, I can-”

“Keep going!” He stumbled backward, still trying to put distance between them and their pursuers. All hell was about to break loose, and there was no way in hell he would let Leon take point on that fight.

Heart pounding harder and harder, he scanned the scene. Where will you come from? How many of you are there?

Cyril kept shambling forward, picking up speed. The tracker, on the other hand, had fallen back, starting to smile smugly. No interest in the fight, then?

A man with hair the color of honey stood poised on the corner between the grass and the parking lot. His head turned as though on a swivel, and he kept gesturing toward someone out of sight. “Come on!” Daniel heard him call, his voice burred by the faintest of accents. “Hurry, already!”

The hair on Daniel’s arms stood on end, and his eyes focused in on the honey-haired man.

So...that was Rickard.

A face he half-remembered from Leon’s house pushed his way around the corner of the motel, with other figures moving in his shadow. The