Page 3 of Asmodel

“Izzy?”

Thank God the croaky voice of ancient Herbert from Queens interrupted. He was a regular who spent a good amount of his time in the library and was always respectful to the workers. She was grateful for him now more than ever. His interruption stopped her from blurting out her confession to Marcus and Evelyn. Even if she had, they’d never have believed her, anyway.

“Yes, Mr. Herbert. How can I help you?” Izzy leaned closer to the short, shrunken man.

Although bent with age, his sharp gaze remained intense. “I hear’s it’s yer last day, an’ I wanta gives you dis.” He held up a single, perfect stem of magenta-colored, funnel-shaped gladiolus flowers.

Izzy gasped and reached for the sweet and slightly spicy blossoms. “Oh, Mr. Herbert.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You didn’t have to.” The old man was on a strict financial budget, and the money he spent on the precious gift made her throat squeeze.

“I’s had ta,” he replied. “You’s need dis just like them Roman gladiators running into battle, as a symbol of courage and strength.” His shrunken cheeks turned a soft pink as he blushed. His dark eyes lowered. “No ones has ever been as nice to an old man like me as you’s is.”

Izzy didn’t think twice. She grasped the old man in a warm hug. “I will miss you, Mr. Herbert.” She stepped back and wiped a tear from her eye. She held on to his upper arms and gave him a narrow-eyed warning. “You take care of yourself. Be sure to eat more and take those walks like you’re supposed to.” She nodded to Evelyn, who stood with her arms crossed and an exasperated expression. Really, the woman needed to learn patience. “Or you’ll have to answer to Ms. Harper. Okay?”

Mr. Herbert returned Evelyn’s glare. “She don’ scare me none.” He turned back to Izzy. “But’s fer you, I’ll do it.”

“Good man.” Izzy patted his thin shoulder. “Now, I’ve saved the newest Joanna Penn thriller for you. Go sit in your favorite chair, and I’ll bring it over.” With an indulgent smile, she watched Mr. Herbert amble with his cane to an old leather recliner that had to be as old as he was.

“I swear, Izzy, I don’t know where you find yer patience.” Evelyn huffed. “If it was up to you, you’d mind every miscreant in New York.”

Marcus’s eyebrows rose, almost taking over his hairline. “Miscreant? Damn, what century are you living in?” He shook his head and waggled his forefinger at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve put in a claim for social security already.” He snapped his fingers. “But, wait! If both of you leave, I’ll have the best chance of becoming head librarian!”

“In your dreams, zygote.” Evelyn huffed. “Get a move on, then. Them stack o’ books over yonder won’t shelve themselves.”

“Yeah, okay.” Marcus gave Izzy a brief hug. He moved away and thumbed over his shoulder at Evelyn. “The old party pooper and I are having lunch brought in. It’s our small way of saying we’ll miss you. Okay?”

Again, Izzy’s throat tightened. She’d sure miss them. They were the only bright spot in her mundane, lonely life.

“Miss Izzy, ma’am?” A small child’s voice matched the tugging on her linen pants. “Can you reads us this story?”

Izzy squatted, bringing her eye level to the small four-year-old, Anna. She glanced at the popular children’s book the small girl wanted read to her every time she came into the library.

“You bet, Anna.” Izzy nodded to the section of the room dedicated for book readings to a small audience. “I’ll meet you there.” She stood and smiled at the girl’s mother, who gave her a grateful grin.

The woman took the child’s hand and whispered to her as they walked away.

Yeah, no doubt about it. There were a lot of things she’d miss.

Izzy turned the key in the lock to let herself out. The familiar click of the library’s grand doors echoed a poignant farewell through the cavernous halls of knowledge she had tended for years. Glancing over her shoulder, she took one last look. The dimming lights cast long shadows across the rows of books, each a silent witness to the dreams and aspirations she’d nurtured within these walls. She breathed in the comforting scent of old pages and unspoken adventures, a tangible reminder of the life she was leaving behind.

She clutched her coat a little closer, shivering as the weight of her decision settled in her heart. For once, she was on the brink of the unknown, about to embark on a journey beyond the confines of Earth. Added to that was the opportunity to explore the possibility of true love, as mysterious as the cosmos itself. This was no ordinary night for her. She was on the threshold of a new beginning, ready to take a chance she never dreamed would come her way.

The grand clock at the end of the room chimed, signaling the end of not only her day but an era. Time to go. Everything was ready. Throwing her head back, she walked through the entryway and locked it behind her. This was a strange symbol of her closing one chapter of her life and stepping into a new one. Shoulders back, she focused on the New York skyline, a mesmerizing sight of millions of shimmering lights twinkling merrily. What a satisfying backdrop for her future.

Her small one-room apartment was just a block away. The compact overnight bag she’d packed yesterday waited for her on her neat bed. The memory of how she’d gotten to this point in her life made her smile.

Was it only a few days ago that her life had changed so much? And it all started when she woke in a cramped room no bigger than herabuela’sbathroom back in the day. The starkness was an afterthought, the suffocating white prison having no windows or doors.

She gasped when the wall unfolded and expanded into a colorful geometric square, swirling in high definition. It was enough to make a girl dizzy. At least it was pretty. Terrifying, but pretty.

“Welcome, Isabella.” The voice sounded male, but it had a definite computerized twang to it. “Please do not be alarmed. You are in no danger.” As it spoke, the geometric pattern expanded and spiked with each word.

“Um, hello.” Izzy put a hand over her chest, as if that’d calm her racing heart. “You know who I am?” Amazingly, she wasn’t the least bit scared, just excited. Despite not being a hardened woman after living alone in New York, she rarely jumped to conclusions. If whoever brought her here had intended to hurt her, they surely would have done so by now.

“Yes, we are quite aware of who you are.” The voice continued. “You grew up as an only child after your parents passed when you were young. Your maternal grandmother, yourabuela, raised you, instilling within you a love for books and literature. While you excelled in the public school system, you did not have the funds available for college. To pursue your higher education in library sciences, you worked within the system. After several years, because of your dedication, organizational skills, and innovative ideas for community engagement, at thirty-two, you are now one of the youngest head librarians in the New York system.”

Izzy was about to make a comment when the voice continued.

“You have a small but close-knit group of friends with whom you share your interest in literature, arts, and cultural events around the city. You’ve secretly yearned to be a part of the space program, but have never found the courage to pursue it. Would you agree we have a realistic grasp on who Isabella Pilar Ramirez Torres is?”

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