She tosses me a wink on her way out.
Ah, yes.The regulars who can’t help but visit the archives every single time Cleo is absent. Despite the chamber obviously being in shambles, several angels tend to find different excuses to venture up to the archives.
“Kai, can you grab that book off the top shelf for me?”
Yes, it’s not like you can fly or anything. Of course.
They're all objectively pretty, but I only have space for one angel in my mind at the moment. And that angel has been extra somber recently. She’s not the only one around here who feels that way, though, that’s for sure. The more time I waste away in this library, the more stir-crazy I get. I wonder if others understand this struggle, too.
Or maybe, it really is just me. I might be completely alone.
Sighing, I place the text block into the book press, tightening the press’s screws to push both boards together.
Look at me, using the term “text block” casually.Grinning, I stop tightening the screws and place my secret project on the table. I didn’t even know a term for an unbound manuscript existed until this week.
I guess this project isn’t technically classified as a secret, seeing as several angels have drifted in and out of the archives over the past several days, catching me red-handed… Eh, I don’t particularly care. As long as Cleo doesn’t find out about it, that is.
I dab a paintbrush into the glue jar and fervently glaze the glue over the text block’s spine. The last time I worked on this, I finished adding the endpapers to the book. Today, I’m adding a silky ribbon bookmark to it.
While spreading the glue across the spine, my mind wanders back to the high school where I worked. The art teacher is Iris’s best friend, so I occasionally helped her with crafts for her students. As obnoxious as my students were sometimes, they often could make my day ten times brighter than it was. I’ve missed my students and baseball team more than usual lately.
I may have only been a baseball coach for five years, but I played the sport for over a decade as a pitcher, constantly in the company of others. I was lucky—I never had to experience true loneliness in my mortal life. From spending time with friends, teammates, coaches, students, my sister, and my ex-girlfriend, I hardly ever spent time alone. I found a sense of purpose in being a companion for others.
And this is why Ineverwanted to work in this old damn library. The solitude, isolation, sensation of being perpetually stuck—it’s all messing with my head. I knew it would. I’d bet a million dollars that the Archangels knew it would, too, hence why they sentenced me to work here instead of banishing me.
What I’d give to experience life on Earth again. I miss it so much.
If I weren’t already dead, I’d kindly ask you to put me out of my misery.
The only problem is, even if someone were to end this for me, I still wouldn’t end up back in the mortal land. I’d probably end up right back here, offered the ability to choose between being a Guardian or immediate ascension again. You know the drill.
I tried to escape the other night. I exerted all my might in a feeble attempt to teleport down to the land below. Instead, all I received in return was a spine-tingling headache. Despite the pain, I pushed even harder, determined to teleport. It proved to be entirely pointless. My probation ring kept me rooted to the same exact spot.
I set the brush down and rub my temples, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
Just finish this project, Kai. Do it for her.
Well, it’s easier said than done, subconscious.
Thirteen
Kai
Alittle over an hour later, I hide the supplies behind all the items on the top shelf again. Filled with pride about how much I accomplished within only an hour, I descend the staircase beyond the archives’ doors with a hop in my step. A beam of bright moonlight pours into the library through the tall windows lining the walls.
Walking alongside the full shelves, I nod at Hadley, who’s seated at the circular information desk on my way out, when I notice someone curled up in a small window-side book nook, tucked beneath a fluffy light blue blanket.
The library contains a large variety of thick blankets and pillows for visitors to borrow in an armoire tucked away in the same corner where the staircase leading to the archives resides. I haven’t had to help guests much.
I’ve been completely locked away in the archives, awaiting a fair maiden to rescue me from my torment. I smirk at my ownjoke, striding toward Cleo and calling out, “What are you reading now?”
She peeks at me from behind the pages. “A classic fantasy this time. It’s about a man who spends a decade trying to get back home after a war.”
Taken aback by her actually acknowledging me, I think fast. I’ve got to take advantage of chatty Cleo while she’s with us. “Ah, if only teleportation were a thing for mortals. You know what, I bet he didn’t have a Guardian looking out for him. Shame, really.”
“You might be right.” She closes her book, and her lips curl into a small smile. “How did the rest of the workday go? You were up there longer than I expected.”
Does she know? She doesn’t know, right? How would she know? I mean, I guess if she floated up to the doorway and peeked in through the small stained-glass window on the archives’ doors, she could’ve—
