Peter Collins and the Secret Library - Prologue

Prologue
Nathan's Revenge

It was a cold night in the town called Oakville. Icy wind blew through the streets, pulling on the coats of men coming home from work and rattling the windows of the red brick houses. Cars sat in the traffic, their drivers shivering in their seats with their window wipers on so the windows wouldn't frost. People that were unlucky enough not to have earmuffs could hear the slamming of doors as mothers pulled their freezing children inside so they wouldn’t catch a cold. There seemed to be no escape from the draft. It blew down the chimneys of houses. It blew through the windows of office buildings. It blew through the open door of the Mace & Willa Library.

The library was empty except for the man that closed the place every day. This man’s name was Mace Johnson and he was one of the two people that owned the place. His back was turned from the doorway and he was putting away the boxes that had been checked in that day.

A strange thing about the Mace & Willa Library is that it didn’t hold books. It didn’t hold comics or scrolls or anything of the sort.

It held boxes.

The shelves held hundreds of small wooden boxes. Boxes that had no lid and no opening. Boxes that had a letter and number engraved on the front and a single keyhole on the top. Boxes that people came in and out of the library every day of the week (except Sundays) from ten to six to check in or out.

These boxes was one the towns’ greatest secrets.

After Mace finally put the last box in its shelf and making sure that everything was in its place, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to lock the door. He turned around and his face was bathed in moonlight. Anyone looking through the door would have seen an old, old, old man with a silvery beard and black eyes that glistened like beetle shells behind his golden glasses. Mace was also wearing black boots, black pants, and a large black coat.

Suddenly, the moonlight was blocked by a shadow.

Another man was standing in the doorway. He looked about eighteen years old and had a pair of old jeans that reached down to his colorless sneakers and a grey t-shirt. His pitch black hair was slicked down on his pale face and his eyes were a dirty green. The man licked his dry lips.

“Good afternoon, Mace.” said the figure.

Mace’s eyes hardened. “Leave Nathan.”

The man named Nathan looked amused.

“Leave? Mace, where are your manners? I didn’t come all this way to be bossed around by you. I have come to pick up a little something…. I suppose you know what I’m talking about.”

Nathan took a step forward and as he did, his oily voice turned ugly.

“I want D-31, Mace.”

Mace put his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“D-31 is gone, Nathan.”

Nathans pale face went paler. “You lie. You have it. You're hiding it! You’ve hidden the spell! And if you don’t give it to me,” he pulled out a long wooden stick, a wand, out of the jeans pocket. “Then I will make you give it to me!”

Mace Johnson sighed and pulled out his own wand. “I am sorry Nathan, but I cannot give you what you cannot have. I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of complete silence except for the sound of the wind whispering. Then, suddenly, Nathan raised his wand and shouted, “Ignis!”

An enormous ball of fire burst from the tip of his wand and streaked across the moonlit room toward Mace, who raised his own wand and cried, “Aqua!”

A powerful surge of water spouted from Mace’s wand and collided with Nathan’s fireball, extinguished the flames. Nathan’s green eyes flashed with anger. He raised his wand again.

“Electrica!” Huge bolts of lightning streaked toward Mace with a loud crackling noise. Mace pointed his wand at the flashing light.  

“Intercipio!” The lightning stopped at an invisible wall, a foot away from Mace’s nose. One of the bolts knocked down a box from its shelf and he could feel the intense heat, but the bolts could not harm him.

Nathan lowered his wand and the lightning vanished. He was breathing in deep breaths and his eyes looked like they were about pop out of their sockets. Mace calmly lowered his wand as well and bended over to pick up up box that had fallen, his eyes leaving Nathan’s face.  

“As you can plainly see Nathan, you cannot harm me. I advise you leave before…” He suddenly straightened. Nathan had vanished.

For a second Mace stood there, the breeze rippling his hair, staring at the spot where Nathan had stood. Perhaps he had left? Nervously, he turned and put the box back on the shelf.

“Mors!”

Before Mace could react, a piercing bright red light came out of no where and struck him on the back.

The last thing he heard was his wand clattering to the floor and Nathan’s cruel laugh echoing around the building.