Dead Waters by Anton Strout

Author:Anton Strout
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Epic, Fantasy, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780441020119
Publisher: ACE Charter
Published: 2011-02-21T10:00:00+00:00

18

Heading down to the Gauntlet always creeped me out a little. The archives were far older than the coffeehouse, movie theater, and offices above, and descending the well-worn stone stairs into the caverns that housed our gathered archival resources sometimes felt like I was going on a caving expedition. I hurried all the way down until I reached the door at the bottom and swung it open to reveal the main room where overhead lights, shelves and shelves of books, and antique wooden worktables galore gave a hint of civilization that calmed me again. As luck would have it, Godfrey Candella was rushing out of one of the aisles, heading for his office off to my right. I had to jog just to intersect with him, but when I did, I almost wished I hadn’t.

“What do you want?” Godfrey said, continuing past me with his stack of books.

I followed him as he headed into his office. His large wooden desk was threatening to collapse under the weight of already accumulated books, but Godfrey seemed determined to test the limits of its structural integrity by finding room for more.

“Nice to see you, too,” I said. Godfrey shoved some papers off the top of one pile of books, letting them fall into another one, forming one super pile of loose paper chaos. Something didn’t feel quite right. It was far too quiet down here. The hustle and bustle of the usual staff was all but gone at the moment.

“Where the hell is everyone?” I asked.

“What everyone?” Godfrey asked, snapping. “This is it. Me. I’m the everyone.”

I looked around for someone else down here, anyone else. “You’re kidding,” I said.

Godfrey put the books down on his desk and pushed his horn-rims back up onto his nose. “First of all,” he said, “I rarely kid. Especially when it comes to the Gauntlet.”

“Right,” I said, wandering to take a peek out of his office door. There was an eerie stillness to the vast bookfilled cavern. “I forgot. Of course not.”

“Second of all,” Godfrey said, and then fell silent for a minute. “There is no second of all. Just me down here. So, if you need something . . .”

“Just point me in the direction of bridges and I’ll get off your back.”

Godfrey sat down at his desk and leaned back. He folded his hands across his chest. “Let me guess,” he said. “The Hell Gate Bridge.”

“Good guess,” I said, impressed. “And correct. You know it?”

“Not too well,” he said, “but yeah. With a name like that, we get a couple of requests every few months on it from agents.”

“I bet,” I said. “Well, listen. We found a menagerie of lingering ghosts out that way. I thought it might be a Hell Mouth or something. You know, an actual gate to hell.”

Godfrey smiled and waggled a finger at me. “You’ve been watching too many Buffy reruns.”

“Only for fighting techniques,” I said. “I swear.”

“Don’t worry,” Godfrey said. “It’s not a Hell Mouth.”

“You sure about that?”

“Pretty sure,” he said, getting up.

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