Sight: Thirteen Years Later

Gavin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

 

“I’m still here.”

 

“And that is my problem.” He looked up at the gum-popping, hair-flipping, mini-skirt-wearing teenager standing on the other side of the counter with a stack of books and frown. “Ms. Bourgade, you owe The Library fifty-two dollars and seventy-eight cents. I’m sorry, but I cannot let you check out any more books!”

 

She placed her hands on the counter and leaned in. “Look. I have a history report due tomorrow. I need these books!”

 

Gavin pointed to the left. “You see that door? There’s a computer lab in there. Why can’t you do your report here?”

 

“Because!” She inspected a bejeweled fingernail. “There’s this creepy guy up there. He keeps looking at me.”

 

Gavin managed to restrain himself from pointing out that he could see her underwear (they were pink with white polka-dots). He sighed again, turned off his computer, and stood up.

 

“Ms. Bourgade, you can’t check out any more books and that’s final. Now, I’m going to go finish restocking the Science Fiction section.” He grabbed a nearby book cart. “You are not going to follow me. You are going to go home, find fifty-two dollars and seventy-eight cents, and bring it back here. Then—and only then—you can get your books.”

 

He grabbed the cart and wheeled it away, leaving the irritated teen at the counter. The wheels of the cart squeaked softly against the hardwood floor as he walked past rows and rows of bookshelves. Finally he reached the expansive Science Fiction section.

 

Turnstone Point Library was simply called “The Library” by most of its visitors—human or otherwise. Home to thousands of books, it was one of the largest libraries on the eastern coast. It had been started as a small collection of books for a nearby monastery hundreds of years ago, and over the years it had been added to and expanded on until it stood three stories high and covered four blocks. It was a haven for literature-hungry readers and desperate students alike.

 

 What the average public did not know, however, was that the library was a haven for a completely different set of people as well.

 

As Gavin searched for the “K” section, he failed to notice a small, brown man creeping up behind him. The little man—who would have barely brushed a foot high if he stood on his tiptoes and sported a magnificent mohawk—was wearing raggedly sewn trousers and a bright green vest. His ears stuck straight out from his head a good three inches more then they should have, and tapered off to slender points. In each ear were half a dozen earrings, none of which matched.

 

He quietly slinked forward until he stood right behind Gavin’s let leg. He peered around and then, with a mischievous grin on his little face, jabbed Gavin hard in the back of the knee.

 

Gavin yelped and sent Henry Kroger’s Space Pirates of Galbernek 9 flying into the air.

 

“Dammit, Tipton!” he gasped. “Don’t do that!” Tipton snickered and clambered to the top of the cart.

 

“I wouldn’t be able to if ye were more alert,” he said. Tipton was a brownie, more commonly known as the “fairy-folk”, and spoke with the thick Scottish accent of his homelands. “Do y’know how easily I could’ve killed ye right then? Easy as that, mate.” He snapped his fingers then shook them in Gavin’s face. “Ye should look around more often.”

 

Gavin picked the book up off the floor. “Have you been drinking again? I thought Alex cut you off.”

 

“Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t.”

 

“No, no I distinctly remember that she did.” He slid the book into its spot on the shelf and selected another one from the cart.

 

“Feh.” Tipton shrugged and picked up a book that was almost as large as he was. “Ye’d be drinking, too, if ye knew what was comin’.”

 

Gavin stopped putting away the book and looked back at Tipton. “And what’s that?”

 

“The meeting,” Tipton hissed ominously. He set down his book and looked at Gavin with wide, serious eyes. “Immortals from all over the world are coming here, to this very spot, tomorrow night. All of us at Turnstone Point will be expected to attend as hosts.”

 

“So? We’ve known about the meeting for a week now. Besides, Alistair’s an Immortal, and he’s not such a bad guy if you ignore the whole kleptomaniac thing.”

 

“Alistair! Ha!” Tipton chortled to himself. “Alistair’s what, two, three hundred years of age? A child compared those who’re coming. The Old Ones don’t travel for fun, Gavin. Mark me words—somethin’s happening. Somethin’ big.”

 

“You’re crazy. Nothing’s going to happen. Now get, before someone sees you. I don’t need another six-year-old screaming about fairies.”

 

Tipton grumbled and hopped off the cart. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ye,” he threatened, and scurried off behind the shelves and out of sight.

 

Gavin shook his head and finished stacking the books. Tipton was always seeing danger everywhere; usually it panned out to be nothing. This time would probably been the same. He had been assured that there was nothing to worry about when he was told of the meeting.

 

But still…

 

Tipton was right about one thing—the Old Ones didn’t travel on a whim. And a gathering of this magnitude hadn’t been seen since the time of Merlin. Something was going on, there was no denying that.

 

When Gavin pulled on his coat and locked the library doors for the night, he was still pondering what the meeting could be about. He thought it over as he began to walk back to his apartment. Had they discovered a cure for the werewolves? Was another species in danger of dying out? He knew the mermaid population was getting a bit low; maybe it was something to do with that.

 

Deep in thought as he was, Gavin failed to notice the young redheaded woman heading in the opposite direction until it was too late.

 

There was a brief moment of shrieks and flailing limbs, and then Gavin was lying on the sidewalk, rubbing his head and apologizing profusely to the young woman.

 

“I’m sorry, I guess I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He blushed, embarrassed.

 

“No no,” she quickly countered, “it’s my fault. I should’ve been paying better attention.” She smiled. It was getting dark, but Gavin could see that she had curly red hair, wide green eyes and a cute button nose. He wondered how he had never seen her before, as Turnstone Point wasn’t an especially large town and she looked to be about his age. Maybe she’s visiting someone, he thought.

 

“Um… I’m Miranda.” She stuck out her hand.

 

Gavin realized he had been looking at her longer then was socially acceptable. He blushed again and hurriedly shook her hand. “I’m Gavin. I was just, ah… I haven’t seen you around before.”

 

“I’m new in town.” She scrambled to her feet and Gavin followed suit. “Just moved here last week.”

 

“Yeah? I work at the library, if you ever want… books.” Gavin grinned and hoped he didn’t sound insane.

 

Miranda giggled. “I’ll see if I can stop by sometime.”

 

“I’ll be waiting. But not, you know, in a creepy sort of way.” He stood for a moment feeling awkward. “Well, I’d better get going. Sorry again for running into you.”

 

“I’ll see you, I guess.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He turned and continued on his way, stopping briefly to look back and watch as Miranda was swallowed up by the encroaching darkness.