Power is a funny thing. It can transform itself and the ones who wield it, but it has no natural leaning towards good or evil. Power is neutral. Knowledge is not.

- Guide to the Leatherbound, One-hundred twenty fifth revision

A very real chill crept up my spine. It lingered far too long before I brushed it off and tried to steady my knees.

This was a nightmare. Maria hadn't warned me, and why would she? Everyone at the library seemed to enjoy keeping things from me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept walking forward, following the card's direction.

I peered through the empty, quiet aisles while I walked. There was no one around. The only sounds were the occasional squeak of my shoes and my own breathing which was growing quicker by the step. Every now and then I would hear something that would jolt my body. Almost as if I were attempting to freeze and run all at the same time. My body would turn and my eyes would scan the horizon, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. The shelves stretched on further than I could see. I touched the beaded bracelet out of nervousness, just to make sure my compass was still there. (It was.)

There's something frightening about knowing you are alone. Haunted houses aren't frightening because of ghosts or goblins or monsters that may inhabit it. They're frightening because you know with every fiber of your being that nothing is supposed to be there. And so when the floorboards creak or a book falls out of a shelf, you know it wasn't supposed to.

Slowly, the arrow began to lose its shape until it looked to be just a regular catalog card. The book had to be here. I reached out with a finger and traced a line along the top row of books. I read the numbers of the books, just to give myself something to do. The relentless quiet of the library was threatening to drive me mad. Eventually, I found myself getting closer and closer to my target number and then... I passed it. I went back and counted through again and, again, I passed it. The book wasn't there. How could it not be there? And if it wasn't here, then where-

"Can I help you?"

I turned with a shriek. The stranger stood there (startled by my shriek). "Sorry," I mumbled quickly. "Just, uh... didn't expect to see anyone here."

The stranger smiled warmly. "Same here. But the Leatherbound is nothing if not full of surprises."

He kept smiling, so I smiled in return. "Oh, right. I'm supposed to be looking for a book. Hanna needs it for ILL, whatever that means." I wanted to talk to fill the empty silence that threatened to swallow my voice.

"Interlibrary loans," the stranger replied. "It's when the library lends out a book to another library."

My mouth went, "Oh." The stranger stared at me. His eyes sparkled like amber. I shifted my weight and flexed my hands, balling them into fists and then straightening them out again. "Yes, well..." I coughed. "I'd better get back to looking for that book. It isn't here on the shelf and-"

"Are you sure? Look again."

There's a reason the word strange is in stranger, I thought to myself. I looked back at the shelf and found where the numbers jumped.

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"Looking for it isn't enough. You have to see." His voice was barely above a whisper, but I could hear it echo here.

I nodded. More magic then. I closed my eyes and took a breath. When I opened them, I focused on the area where the book was supposed to be. It took me a second, but I saw it. A handle. Silver and etched with sigils. I reached out into the space that didn't exist and pulled.

The books folded outward like doors to a wardrobe and swallowed the space around me. Transforming and warping into... darkness. Pitch black.

I waited. And when nothing happened, I gathered my courage and held my knees firm to keep from shaking. And I waited a bit longer. When it became obvious nothing else was happening, I reached out in front of me. My hands brushed up against a book. Multiple books. A row of them. On a shelf. I was still in the library.

On a whim, I reached into my pocket and retrieved the guidebook. It glowed weakly, but it may as well have been the sun in this space. I held it up to illuminate my surroundings and found myself in a long corridor. Without any recourse, I started walking.

By the weak light of the book, I could see that there were shelves along the walls. The corridor bent slowly until I realized it was a large circle. Eventually, I could see the walls and books on the shelves more clearly thanks to a candle seated on a desk.

"Good job," the stranger said. I turned around to see he was in here with me. "Most pages aren't able to cross the threshold, but you've done it on your first try." He walked around the circumference of the room, drawing his hands across the bindings of the books. He stopped, paused, and took a book from the shelf. "Is this the book you're looking for?"

I took the book into my hands. By the dim light, I could scarcely make out enough of the title to confirm my assignment was nearing its close.

"Where am I?" I asked as I tucked the book under an arm.

"We're in-between," the stranger spoke softly. I nodded. More questions, but they'd have to wait for later. I'd seen enough of the stranger to know that this was wrong. Not just his help, but his presence here. The suit, the mannerisms. None of the patrons who visited this library dressed like him or acted like him. That could only mean-

"Correct," he finished. His tongue flaked out and licked his lips. He smiled a toothy grin. Whatever veneer of kindly stranger he had worn was discarded in a moment. He rose up to his full height and smacked his lips.

I was careful to keep the distance between us until I came to the candle. "You're a page. Or you were."

"Was that a question?" he mocked. He removed his hat and I could see now that nothing about him was natural. His eyes fairly glowed and his hair dropped down past his shoulders. His entire being seemed to blend into the shadows. Except his eyes. And his teeth.

"No." The confidence I spoke with felt unfamiliar, but there wasn't any other way to play this. I picked up the candle, putting the guidebook away in the process. I held it up to light the corridor. The books glowed in the candlelight, but I was looking for something else. Something that would reflect the light.

"I think you understand the situation you're in," he whispered with more than a hint of perverse joy. "It's very simple. I need something from you, and you're going to do it."

"And if I refuse?" I saw it. Back the way I had come. A small sliver of reflected light danced on a shelf.

"Please, leave the acting to the professionals, reader. You will do as I instruct, else I will tear through you as easily as I would any other page." I winced. He wasn't bluffing. I knew what I had to do. I needed to stop shaking and I needed to stop being scared. Either I got myself out of this situation, or I didn't.

"In that case, I suppose it's time I changed the story." No turning back now.

I took a fighting stance with the candle held in front of me like a weapon. The stranger smirked. Then I held the book against the flames until it caught. His smile turned to confusion and then surprise as I threw the book at him as hard as I could.

My aim was true. The cover flapped open and smashed into his shoulder as he tried to turn away. While he was covered in a flurry of ash and embers, I dashed for the handle to the tunneling gate, turned it and pushed out back into the library.

The last thing I heard before I fell through the gate was a guttural cry of rage. And then, silence.