Chapter Sixteen – Friend of the Texts

It had started in the storeroom of the British Museum Reading Room. Museum staff arrived in the morning to find that books had moved from where they had left them and items were jumbled up on the shelves. Then the shelves in the Reading Room itself had books in the wrong places each morning.

The librarian blamed the staff and the staff secretly talked about how the librarian was losing her mind. For months everyone skirted around the issue and tried to pretend it was not happening. Each morning the librarian would arrive and pick up the books discarded on the floor and re-shelve them. She would tidy the disorganised shelves and get on with the day. The final straw came the day some of the most precious archive books were meddled with. Two priceless books, each over two hundred years old, were found lying on the floor several metres from their home shelves and a number of archive boxes lay on the floor with the contents spilling out.

“I will not work under these conditions any more!” she shouted at the museum director as she tossed her resignation on the desk. “Museum staff are constantly taking advantage of library privileges and leaving the place in a mess. I have tolerated it for long enough, but the ruination of archive material is more than I can bear. We have priceless material arriving for display at the end of the week and I am not prepared to take responsibility for it if this continues. I am not prepared to stake both my reputation and career on the slim chance that someone will stop taking advantage.”

“Please, Mrs Foster, try to calm down. Please take a seat.” The director gestured to the chair opposite her desk. “Who is taking advantage? Please explain and I will do everything in my power to stop it.”

Mrs Foster lowered her tall body into the chair, greatly resembling a folding ruler as she did so, and then frowned harder at the director.

“I arrive each morning to a terrible mess,” she snipped on. “Well, I suppose I can’t expect some of these young idiots to understand the value of a well-ordered system. I can put up with that, after all it’s part of my job to tidy these books away, but the archive material is a different matter. I simply cannot tolerate such wanton destruction.”

“Mrs Foster, I am aware that this must be most distressing for you, but surely you must be mistaken,” the director tried to placate her.

“How can I be mistaken? The manuscripts and older texts are always shelved or boxed at the end of each day before I lock up. For three days now I’ve arrived to discover the library in disarray. I’ve found manuscripts left out on the table, boxes pulled from the shelves, and now some with the contents tipped out on to the floor.” She sighed and leaned back. “I can’t face such destruction. I know it’s none of my staff, and so the only conclusion I can draw is that it’s one of the general museum staff.”

“I understand how you feel,” the director said. “We’ll put a stop to this right away.” She leaned forward and picked up the telephone, hastily punching four numbers into the keypad. “I’ll talk to . . . hold on . . . is that you, Geoffrey?” she spoke into the telephone. “I’d like you to bring up the library security camera recordings, please.” Replacing the handset, she returned her gaze to Mrs Foster. “We’ll sort this out and you have my assurance that once we discover the member of staff who’s doing this, they’ll be most seriously reprimanded.”

“I appreciate your co-operation, and I suppose I could consider putting the past behind me – as long as the guilty party is punished,” Mrs Foster said with obvious reluctance. “But I still don’t know how they got into a locked storeroom. I really think that this is more serious than we’re both presuming; we may have to face the fact that a thief is in our midst.”

“That is, indeed, a serious matter, but before accusations are made . . .” She was interrupted by a knock on the office door. She stood up and went over to it, returning with a box of discs, which she placed on the desk in front of her. “Now we shall see. Here’s last night’s recording. Let’s have a look.”

She slid the disc into the player and turned it on. A grainy fisheye view of the library came up.

“Nothing out of the ordinary here,” the director said. “Let me fast-forward a bit.”

The image flickered as it skimmed through the night. Everything in the library seemed quiet and totally normal.

“It looks fine. Maybe it’s someone who comes in early, or maybe it happens . . . wait, what was that?” Mrs Foster pointed at the screen.

The director slowed the tape to normal speed and they both craned in for a better look.

“There, what’s that? the director said. “Good grief! It can’t be.”

Both of their jaws fell open as they watched the screen. One by one books floated from the shelves and lay in mid-air with their pages ruffled as if caught in a gentle breeze, then they were tossed to one side or jammed back into the shelves next to where they had been hovering. Book after book laid itself open for scrutiny by something that could not be seen.

“I don’t believe what I’m seeing,” the director gasped. “It must be a trick of the light. The room’s so dark and I can’t quite see, but . . .”

“I’m sure it can be easily explained, but I think we’d better keep it to ourselves,” Mrs Foster said in a strangely calm voice. “If we tell anyone about this, they’ll think we’re insane.”

“But what can we do?” The director could not take her eyes from the screen, captivated by the books and boxes apparently moving unaided through the room. “We have to do something.”

“It’s clever camera trickery, I’m sure of it. Don’t worry, just leave this to me.” Mrs Foster reached into her pocket and slipped her hand round the small black cube nestling within it. “I know just who can help us.”

“Good to see you again, Adam.” Emma greeted him with a warm smile as he reassembled in the office. “D’Scover has instructed me to lock down the place until he’s back, and you’ve some work to do, I think?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem. He also asked me to patch through the day’s reports so you can add them to your research.”

“Cheers,” Adam said.

He slumped down in D’Scover’s chair and, as the secretary left, listened to the slight suck of the door as the room was locked down.

The Internet had been Adam’s companion for so long when he was homeless that he had become a bit of an expert. During his stretch of living rough he had spent as much time as possible in the public library, because it was warm and free. The librarians had seemed to know he had nowhere else to go and let him use the Internet for as long as he wanted. This gave him plenty of opportunity to learn his way around.

D’Scover’s computer was easy to access as he had indeed already set it to respond to Adam’s CC and it blinked into life as he clipped the box on to the keyboard. The screen loaded up with the search engine’s home page and Adam drummed his fingers on the desk, thinking about how to approach the research. He linked the site for the Fortean Times and called up the most current news. Page after page loaded up with tales of ghosts and hauntings from all over the world. Ghosts no one had reported for decades were seen wandering corridors, and even city streets, all reported by terrified witnesses. There were so many reports that Adam hardly knew where to begin.

“Right,” he said, “I need to start more locally.”

He searched for entries for London and the site found over a hundred for the last month. He clicked on the first page and began to scan the information and make notes of dates and details, but the sheer quantity soon began to overwhelm him. After a long couple of hours he sighed and pressed the intercom to speak to Emma.

“Where can I find today’s stuff?” he asked her.

“I’m just sorting them out for you, Adam,” she replied. “Sorry about the delay. I’m afraid there’re rather a lot. I’ll patch them through; you’ll find them in the folder named ‘Daily’ on the computer.”

“Thanks.”

Adam cleared the Internet from the screen, brought up the daily reports and was once more surprised by the sheer volume. There must have been a good few hundred there from all over the country. Something big was happening, he didn’t need Edie’s psychic powers to work that out, and sitting here staring at a screen was not going to get him closer to the answer. He felt he almost knew what it was, like a word on the tip of his tongue; he knew he had seen something that would explain what was going on – or would at least help them. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to recall what it was he had seen and where.

“Damn it, just can’t quite think,” he said to himself.

He slammed his hand down on the table and his CC jumped from its place in the keyboard, causing the screen to snap into darkness once more. “None of these reports seem to have anything in common, apart from the fact most of them haven’t caused any trouble for at least a century. It’s all like muddy water, all mixed up. I can’t get a clear view.”

He stood up and paced around the room, trying to think, looking out over the city as if it might reach out and hand him the answer.

“This is like trying to find something in a book without an index. How am I supposed to know what’s important and what . . .” He trailed off and a thin smile flickered across his face. “A book, that’s it.”

He walked to the Madonna painting and, mimicking the complicated pattern of movements he had seen D’Scover perform, he pulled the library key from around her neck. Stunned at how easy it had been, he watched as it settled like a living thing into his palm as he walked back to the desk and the intercom.

“Can I get out on to the balcony?” he asked Emma.

“Yes, but I have to open the doors from here. D’Scover left instructions that the balcony doors should remain sealed when he wasn’t here,” she replied. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the doors open while you’re here. Need some fresh air?”

“Yeah, it can get a bit stuffy in here,” Adam lied.

“That’s exactly what I told him!” she chuckled. “They’re open for you.”

“Ta.”

Opening the balcony doors made the wet air of the city rush through the room, stirring the paper on the desk. Adam stepped out on to the broad paved strip and walked towards the library door. Hesitating briefly, in fear of what might happen should the door not recognise his hand, he pressed his palm against the wall in what he hoped was the same spot D’Scover had used. He was enormously relieved when the thin vein of silver ran around the brickwork and revealed the library door.

The room beyond was too dark to see for a moment. Adam waited for his eyes to adjust before remembering that it was all in his mind and if he believed he could see in the dark, he could. Walking to the table in the middle of the room, he stood and looked up at the ancient Texts lining the walls and wondered where to begin. Then he had an idea.

“Now,” he said, feeling distinctly foolish, “you books know me, and you know D’Scover. He’s cared for you for centuries and now it’s time to pay him back. Something’s happening in our world, and the world of the living, and we need your help to find out what it is. I’m trying my hardest to find out, but I can’t do it alone.”

The books stood silently on their shelves, and Adam felt his face grow red.

“What was I thinking?” He sighed loudly. “I mean, how could a load of glued paper and ink possibly help me? For a mad moment I thought you’d understand me. Seems I got it wrong.”

Adam turned to leave the room, but was stopped in his tracks by a large dark-brown volume hovering in front of him with its cover looking at him. A single red eye stared out, a cold glower at first, but as Adam watched, it wrinkled at the corner as though smiling at him. He stepped aside as it drifted past to land on the table, fluttering its pages open. Adam took a step forward and read aloud from the open, highly decorated page.

“And at once the creatures of the field and birds of the air were compelled to work together so that the world might resolve itself into one great place where all life depended on one another for survival,” Adam read aloud. “I get the message.”

He turned round and spoke to the now jostling and fluttering books on the shelves. “We can do this together. Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sure the reason behind this is an old one. We’ve been thinking far too recently. If someone is controlling old ghosts, it must be someone who’s been around long enough to know of them, or someone who has access to the files. D’Scover told me that right through history the living have been trying to get hold of you for the power you contain. Do any of you have an idea about what’s going on? D’you know anything that can help?” Adam pleaded.

A movement on a high shelf caught his eye and a thick volume bound in deep blue leather and heavily decorated with silver embossing slid from the shelf and descended towards him. He laid his palms out flat and the book landed gently in them. Adam waited as the book opened to the frontispiece and showed its title.

“Alchemy in Tudor England,” he read. “So this’ll give me a clue? Looks like it’ll take a bit of reading, can’t you narrow it down?”

The book skimmed through its pages, curling them back one by one, the movement growing faster and faster until Adam could no longer focus on the pages and they became a creamy blur. Eventually the pages began to slow down and came to rest at the start of a chapter headed with a scrolled font that made it look as though the book had been handwritten.

“John Dee,” Adam read. “I think I remember seeing something about him, or I read something about Queen Elizabeth the First and him – is that the same one?”

The book flicked over another page and there was a small, watery portrait of Queen Elizabeth I.

“Hey, I was right. So something about this guy will help us out? OK, I’ll take your word for it. Maybe D’Scover can shed some light on that one. D’you mind waiting for a bit until he gets back?” he asked the book.

It closed again and, lifting from his hands, laid itself on the table next to the red-eyed book.

“I have a big favour to ask,” Adam announced to the whole room. “I need to look at the Vision again to see if anything in it can help us, but I don’t know the words to make it appear so I just have to ask to see it. Would that be OK? Could I please see it again?”

The book on the table closed and slowly blinked its eye before rising from the table and slotting itself neatly back on to the shelves. A thick rumble of thunder ran through the building and Adam looked up at the sky through the glass pyramid that was the roof. He remembered the first time he had seen the Vision and, knowing what would come next, he took a step backwards. A vortex of clouds studded with letters and words filled the centre of the room above the table. He watched as the words bumped and sparked off each other with flickers of crimson fire before rising and becoming darker and more condensed until the cloud dispersed, leaving a single black book slowly revolving in the air. It drifted down, leaving a thin, ash-like trail, and came to rest gently above the table in front of Adam.

“What an entrance – that was beautiful!” Adam gasped and the book ruffled its pages in what could only be described as pride. “Can I see the Vision, if that’s OK with you?”

The book opened its creamy pages and the clouds outside parted to reveal a single shaft of moonlight that once more bounced around on the gold details of the pages as they flickered through, coming to rest on the Vision page.

“Nice touch, very dramatic,” Adam said, and the book gave another pleased shiver. “Now what’s the exact wording of this thing? I can’t read Father Dominic’s code. Can you help me out?”

He stepped closer to the book and leaned into the light for a better look. The words started to blur as if water had been spilled on to the paper and the ink was running. Adam continued to watch as the words pooled together in an inky puddle in the middle of the page. A thin black thread of a line reached out from the puddle and started to take the shape of words. Adam smiled and began to read aloud.

“In times of chaos, a great division will split the Brotherhood. Faith shall weaken and many shall be lost for ever to the void. In this confusion of spirits, darkness shall rise silently and take upon a form known to many. This force shall command the elemental spirits and countless spirits of ill-passage. This evil will take hold whilst others look away, but a trinity shall see all and one shall be triumphant. The one who overthrows shall have known nothing of the wickedness of the living world and shall have died unsullied by the mire of the living. This innocent shall raise a blade, forged in purity and crystal fed, and shall strike down the demons that rise to overthrow the living world. This shall be the Sentinel and their form shall be true and shall be that of a child.”

He sat down by the table and the book rotated towards him and lowered itself to his eyeline.

“Well, what do you lot think?” he asked the full shelves. “It sounds different from the last time. You showed me the full version, didn’t you? There weren’t any gaps. I don’t know about you, but I think D’Scover’s got it all wrong. I can’t be the one that this Vision talks about. I didn’t die knowing nothing of the wickedness of the world. I died cold and alone on the streets of a crowded city. I’ve seen some terrible things. I’ve lived a short life full of stuff that would pass as evil in any religion. No, it can’t be me, so that means that it can’t be time for the Vision. That does it. No point in training or anything. D’Scover can let the Senior Council know there’s no need to put me up for a Trial. It’s not time for the Vision, is it?”

The book jammed itself towards Adam once more, pushing into his chest.

“Ow, calm down,” Adam said, pushing it back towards the table.

As he looked down at the words on the page, he could see that they now glowed angrily back at him with ink that had become the colour of dried blood.

“How exactly did you get in here?”

The voice made Adam instinctively grab the book from the air and draw it close to his body.

“D’Scover!” he gasped. “You scared the life out of me.”

“Interesting choice of words there,” D’Scover said sarcastically. “And you still have not answered my question.”

“Oh,” Adam sputtered, “I just copied what you did and it let me in.”

“You should not have been able to . . .” D’Scover stared at the book that Adam still held close against his body. “How . . . how did you get the Master Text? No one but I can access that text.”

Adam looked down at the book and loosened his arms, allowing it to rise from them and settle back once more, hovering above the table.

“I don’t know really,” he said quietly. “I asked nicely and it came to me.”

“Indeed,” D’Scover said. “You certainly have a way with these works, I commend you on that, but you are never to access this room without my express permission. If these books were to . . .”

“Yes, I know, if they fell into the wrong hands, it could be disastrous,” Adam interrupted. “But I’m the wrong hands, am I? I thought it might help us find out what’s going on. Did you have a good journey? Where’s Edie?”

“She is sleeping in the office. The journey was long and very dull. Public transport is barbaric. Thankfully my human transportation preferred to travel first class so that at least minimised the horror of being so closely crammed in with others.”

“It can’t have been that bad,” Adam scoffed. “It’s a train not a prison.”

“Suffice to say I am truly glad that I no longer require a lavatory.”

“Oh, nuff said,” Adam grimaced. “So what’s Edie like?”

“Inquisitive. She has asked what must be close to a hundred questions about the Brotherhood and life after death, if you will pardon the obvious cliché.”

“Did she ask about anything else?” Adam said, trying to look as if he didn’t care.

“You mean did she ask anything about you?”

“No,” Adam blurted in hasty protest. “I meant, did she ask anything about what’s going on?”

“No, but I asked her,” D’Scover replied. “She feels she is meant to be here and can help, but she does not know exactly why her life has led her here. She does, however, feel that it is something only she can do. She is a great believer in destiny.”

“You two have a lot in common!”

“I would not have put it like that.” D’Scover looked around the room and his eyes fell on the leather-bound book that still hovered patiently above the table. “I think that it is time this room was sealed once more, do you not?”

“Sure,” Adam said and held out the hand into which the silver outline of the key still lay.

D’Scover looked down at the shimmering pattern on Adam’s palm.

“I think you can handle the sealing of the room, as you have such a bond with the books,” he said, turning to leave. “Put the Master Text away. I will see you in my office.”

Alone once more Adam felt a nudge in his back and turned to see the Master Text fluttering its pages behind him.

“I get the hint; you can go back to . . . well, wherever it is you go,” he said.

The book rose into the air high above the table and the thick dark mist of tiny black and red fragments grew around it. As the mist expanded, Adam watched the words rise and mingle together, twisting out of shape as the cloud began to spin.

“Oh, and thanks for all your help, I really appreciate it,” he called out to the text that was now retreating into the mist.

A warm red pulse spread through the cloud for a second and, with a small popping sound, the book was gone.

Adam walked to the door, turning back just before he left. “Oops, nearly forgot you.” He saw the blue book waiting patiently on the table. He held out his palms and the book gently drifted towards him. When he tucked it under his arm, it gave a small wiggle and settled down.

“Thanks, you lot,” he said, and reached out to the red-eyed book that had been the first one to help him. When he ran his finger down its spine, it arched in recognition. “And especially thanks to you for convincing the others to help me.”

He left the room and stepped into the crisp air that whipped around the balcony. Raising his hand to the wall, he pressed it against the brickwork and waited while the mercurial track reversed its course and sealed the room, leaving only an insignificant brick wall at the end of a weather-beaten London balcony.