Legend of the Book Keeper Read Free Page A

Cody cherished the classic story of King Arthur and his noble knights.
    He scanned the room for a stool to reach his coveted prize but came up blank. He briefly considered asking Wesley for a hand, but quickly dismissed the idea, opting to avoid enduring any more cryptic conversation with the ancient bookkeeper. The solution presented itself in the form of a stubbed toe. “Ouch!” Cody yelped.
    Glancing to his throbbing foot he saw a stack of Jane Austen novels littering the floor. Perfect! Shuffling them across the floor with his foot, he pushed them up flush against the larger pile. Then, his footstool in place, carefully ascended the Austen books. They wobbled beneath him like a swinging bridge. As with most areas of his life, Cody had not been gifted with exceptional balance, and as he tensely teetered back and forth on the books, he began to rethink his plan. He reached out his hand, his fingers brushing against his desired classic. Just a bit higher . Rising onto his tiptoes he grabbed the novel, but the sudden shift in weight caused his homemade stool to implode.
    Cody tumbled out-of-control toward the wall and crashed into the mountain of books, which swayed slightly just before crashing down around him. The splattering of books upon the floor echoed like thunder within the antique shop. Fear seized Cody, wrapping its firm hands around his neck and stealing his breath. He paused, breathless for a second, waiting to hear if either Jade or Wesley had heard the commotion. After another moment of silence, he let out his breath. The coast was clear.
    He half-heartedly turned around to examine the aftermath of his clumsiness—and released a startled yelp. The top portion of the book pile had come crumbling down, and behind where they had once been was a door. Above the frame of the door was one word: Restricted . It was written in blood.

A Midnight Visitor
     
    J ade stared unimpressed at her anxious friend. “A door?” she issued in a bored, irritated tone. “You rushed me out of there like a bomb was about to detonate because of . . . a lousy door?” She shook her head disbelievingly, “I really hope you have a better explanation because I had a classic Middlemarch in my hand and . . .”
    “You’re not hearing me, Jade,” Cody cut her off. “Okay, okay. So a door isn’t anything to sound the alarm about, but what about the word restricted? And, in case you had forgotten, it was written in blood !” Cody struggled for breath. Following his accidental discovery of the hidden door and without wasting any time to clean up his mess, Cody had dashed wildly down the stairs, grabbed Jade, and dragged her out the door before Wesley was able to question them. Pulling Jade by the arm, the duo had scurried down the alley. Only when they were a good six blocks from the store had Jade finally managed to demand an explanation.
    “Or red paint,” she insisted in her rational voice. “You do realize that Wesley is going to think we shoplifted the way we dashed out of there,” Jade continued, still unab le to grasp the significance and reason behind their impromptu mile dash. Cody collapsed onto a sidewalk bench, inhaling rapidly.
    “That’s the least of our worries. It was blood. I’m positive! What would a man need a hidden door labeled with blood for?” Cody asked, as if there was only one logical conclusion to be deduced. Jade stared blankly. Exasperated, Cody bit his lip, “For storing dead bodies!”
    At this Jade couldn’t suppress a laugh. “So, you think Wesley is a mass murderer do you? You do realize he’s . . .”
    “. . . like eight hundred years old, I know,” finished Cody, “but still, you have to admit it’s not normal. He’s clearly hiding something back there.” Jade sighed, placing her arm onto her best friend’s shoulder, “Cody, maybe he is. But whatever it is, it’s his secret. It’s of none of our business.” A crack of thunder exploded in the dusk sky and the first drop of rain