The Secret Librarian Society

Prologue

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Clocks took up every inch of wall in the room. They all ticked in unison like a singular heartbeat. Carson stared amongst all of the clocks with particular interest. 11:50 p.m. Carson gulped as the light from fire above his head glinted against the silver dagger, he gripped tight. Footsteps thundered somewhere close by. The dagger twitched against Carson's hand as his head whirled back.

"Show yourself!" Carson growled. His brow furrowed in irritation as he pressed the dagger behind his back. Another set of footsteps crossed his ears from behind him. His whole body jolted at the sound. A hysteric laughter filled his ears and echoed against the clocks.

"Isn't it fun when we race against time?" a man's voice, warped with a woman's tone, echoed. The sound was like two people that talked at once. The amusement in the voice sent a shiver down Carson's spine. Ice fell into his stomach as he took a hesitant step forward. His eyes darted amongst the clocks in search of any indication where the holder of the voice came from. The dagger pressed harder against his back. The sounds of the clock irked his ears.

"Don't be a coward," Carson shouted out. A mixture of anxiety and anger grasped his heart and rammed it against his chest.

"Tick tock, tick tock. Don't you love the sound of the clock, Carson?" The voice sung in a higher pitch. Carson darted his eyes toward the entrance of the room. The hallway loomed with only the flicker of a single torch light. "Wasn't this your favorite short story? You quoted it so often." Carson's jaw clenched as his eyes turned to the time. 11:56 p.m. "Don't you remember what happens when the clocks strike midnight?"

"Only a coward hides behind a plot line," Carson argued.

"A coward, you say? Would you rather see my face?" The questions echoed throughout the room and bounced into Carson's ears from all sides. "You would want me to be the last thing your eyes witness? How sweet of you! I never knew you felt such a way for me." Carson bit down on his tongue and watched as the clock twitched from fifty-six to fifty-seven.

"Why not entertain me with your presence then?" Carson glanced back to the hallway. A shadow crept up with softer footsteps. It swayed and ebbed and avoided the flickers of light from the torch above the entryway. A tall figure stood barely out of the light's view. Carson took in a deep breath as he stared at the man. "I'm so glad you could join me."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world!" Elation clapped through the man's gloved hands. "It is not every day that I get to witness such a great spectacle." Carson's brow raised in question.

"Spectacle?"

"But of course!" The man chuckled similar to a hyena's laugh. "It's not every day I let the plot kill my prey for me!" Carson's brow raised as his attention turned back to the clocks. Fifty-eight turned to Fifty-nine. His teeth gritted as he stared back to the hallway. There was no way he would have made it through the room in under a minute. His heart hammered harder as the grip on the blade tightened.

"If this story is going to take me down, I'm taking you with me!" The blade jumped from behind his back. The target was locked by the blade as it flew from his hand. A hysterical laughter was given in reply. A white gloved hand shone in the flickering light. The blade was caught between two fingers. Carson's whole posture drooped in surprise.

"Tut, tut," the man clicked with his teeth. A pale masked face allowed itself to be seen by the flame up above. A cruel, twisted smile carved against the porcelain. Carvings of the smile were deepened by the flickering light above his head. "I thought you were smart, Carson, I really did. How could you think something so simple would work against me?" Carson's eyes widened as the clocks struck twelve. Bells chorused in unison as the doors slowly started to close. "Who knows, maybe the next bookworm will be better. Ta, ta!" The gloved hand waved with the dagger as the doors slowly closed to the sounds of the clocks. The last thing Carson saw was the cold smile of the mask and the glint of his blade being held against him. Disorienting bells pressed against the walls of his head.

It was never said what happened to the people that were left in the clockmakers room after the clocks struck midnight. As the masked man made his way back down the darkened hallway, horrific shrieks ran through his ears. The gloved hand stared down at the blade that attempted against his life. The shrieks were chorused with a hyena's laughter as the gloved hand slid the dagger inside of his coat. "A keep's sake for the next one!" The chuckle that followed the comment shook the man's shoulders as he made his way down the hallway and off to the next set of stairs. Maybe in an hour the doors would open, and he could find the secret behind the clockmaker's room. Or the plot would break around him. Only time would tell.