The old and legendary Santa Margarita Library. A few years back, it was replaced by a more modern facility, with a building better suited to the new structures popping up around the city.
The ancient library was gradually forgotten, its visitors dwindling year by year. “The Gray Margarita,” as the students used to call it, still stands tall and solemn, like an elegant, proud old lady, brimming with knowledge she guards jealously. Like a haunted castle of magic, fantasy, and words, it withstands the test of time, though its halls are no longer packed with students as they once were. Gone are the sounds of children’s laughter, the noisy chatter of teenagers hushed by the librarian at the entrance, and the men and women seeking books to explore unreal, distant worlds, to travel without leaving their seats, to laugh, cry, and dream.
Yet, it remains magnificent, despite the years and the neglect that’s starting to eat away at the old library. Valentina can’t help but gaze at it with a mix of admiration and curiosity. The young woman, with long chestnut hair, pale skin, and a slender frame, is lost in her daydreams until her aunt snaps her back to reality with little subtlety. She lifts her brown eyes toward the man accompanying her aunt, who clears his throat with a stern edge.
“She’s awfully young. Are you sure about this?” he remarks, eyeing her intently.
“I assure you, my dear sir, that my niece is a very responsible and hardworking young lady,” the older woman replies, enunciating each word as if reading from a book. Her gray hair, neatly styled and pulled into a tight, high bun without a single strand out of place, adds to her severe demeanor, complemented by her furrowed brow and the constant expression of someone biting into a lemon.
Valentina watches timidly as the two walk off down the hallways, discussing her future working conditions and salary. Having recently graduated with a degree in Library and Information Science, her aunt offered her a job as a librarian alongside her at this place. Her mother thought it was a great opportunity and encouraged her to accept the invaluable offer. Though working with an aunt she barely knows makes her a bit anxious.
“Valentina!” her aunt calls out, brow furrowed. “The girl is hardworking, dedicated... but sometimes a bit distracted,” she adds, shooting a serious look at the young woman, who, unsure how to respond, simply looks away.
“Fine,” says the short, somewhat stout man. His thick eyebrows remain stern, his expression skeptical of the girl’s abilities. “We’ll give her a trial period.”
“Excellent, I assure you, you won’t regret it,” the older woman adds with a faint smile.
Once the man leaves, the elderly woman turns to her young niece with a serious expression. Valentina straightens up as if she’s in the army facing a superior officer. This strikes the older woman as somewhat amusing, though she maintains her composure and stern demeanor in the face of the younger girl’s discomfort.
“I hope you can prove to Don Ricardo that you’re fit for the job…”
“Aunt Agatha,” the girl interrupts. “Is that man the owner of the library?”
The woman coughs at the rude interruption but, instead of lecturing on manners, chooses to answer. There’d be time later to remind her of the proper etiquette a Santa Margarita librarian should uphold.
“The library operates mainly on private donations. Don Ricardo Sotomayor’s family are the primary benefactors, so they have a say in decisions regarding this place. And…”—noticing Valentina’s attempt to speak again—“don’t interrupt me like that again. Follow me, I’ll show you around.”
Agatha pulls out a large ring of keys to unlock two massive wooden doors. Pushing them open isn’t easy; it takes effort from both of them until the doors are wide enough to let in the sunlight.
Valentina can’t help but smile as her footsteps break the stillness of the place, the echo of each step reverberating through every corner. On either side, shelves tower over any human height, packed with books of various colors and thicknesses. Long mahogany tables sit in the center of the room, paired with benches of the same rich tone. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, lending an air of nostalgia and elegance, as if this were the grand ballroom of an aristocratic family from centuries past. At the far end, shelves hold enormous, yellowed, laminated sheets of old newspapers in archival folders. Near the entrance, the librarians’ desk stands elevated on a wooden platform, making it seem taller than it is. Behind it, a shelf holds recently returned books from visitors. And the windows—tall, narrow, stretching from ceiling to floor—are draped with heavy curtains.
“How many librarians work here?” Valentina asks as she walks, marveling at the library.
“Starting tomorrow, just you and me,” Agatha replies dryly, without looking at her.
“What? With the size of this library, two people won’t be enough…” Valentina turns, surprised and worried, momentarily forgetting the awe this place had inspired in her.
“Two people are plenty for these times. We don’t get nearly as many visitors as we used to. You’ll see tomorrow,” Agatha says, her voice cracking slightly as she recalls how forgotten Santa Margarita has become, though she strives to maintain her firm, tough demeanor. “Now, less chatter and follow me.”
They head to the back of the room, where a grand marble staircase leads to the second floor. The stairs are wide enough for five people to climb side by side, hand in hand. On either side, finely carved wooden railings depict vines of flowers and leaves twisting around them, ending in a coiled curve at the top.
As they ascend, the darkness grows thicker, momentarily blinding Valentina, unlike her aunt, who moves with agility, having memorized every piece of furniture and capable of navigating the space even in total darkness. Agatha pulls back the curtains, revealing several smaller shelves compared to those on the first floor, packed with more books, though these are organized by color and size. Even with the curtains open, shadows linger on this floor.
“The books here are older than those downstairs. We have to be extra careful with them. Not everyone is allowed up here,” her aunt explains, furrowing her brow.
The tables here are smaller and individual, and to the right, there’s a closed mahogany door beneath a small, open loft area, its shadow darkening the space further. Two side staircases lead up to this loft, where shelves are mounted to the walls, brimming with neatly arranged books.
Agatha calls Valentina down before opening the mahogany door, pulling a key from the ring at her waist. The door creaks, and the bright light on the other side contrasts sharply with the dimness of the previous room. It’s just a short hallway with a wooden staircase at the end. Beside the stairs sits a trunk painted in blue and gold tones, adorned with a design of a sun and stars. On top of it, a gray porcelain cat rests next to a basket of yarn balls.
They climb to the third floor, where, unlike the previous level, a long, narrow hallway stretches out. They pass several doors, though Agatha doesn’t stop despite Valentina’s curious expression. They walk to the end of the corridor, where Agatha opens a door to a room with brown sofas, a small table in the center holding a basket of plastic flowers, and further back, a kitchen, a high table, and a TV. Light-colored curtains with floral patterns make the space feel cozy, almost out of place in this grand library.
“This is our break room. You can eat, rest, and there’s a bathroom at the back. Any questions?”
“What about the other rooms on this floor?” Valentina asks the moment she gets a chance.
“They’re storage rooms—books too damaged to lend out, photographic materials, and other things. You can check them out later if you want, but there’s nothing interesting in them.”
Her words only heighten the young woman’s curiosity, adding to Valentina’s mix of anxiety and excitement. She’s always dreamed of working in a place like this, and Santa Margarita is far more than she ever expected.
Her aunt then goes over the schedule for clocking in and out, breaks, salary, and benefits, among other details. Though she’s concerned that the girl, who seems to be lost in thought, might forget everything she’s saying.
“You need to be very strict with the schedule and not arrive late, because there’s no making up hours. The library closes at six in the evening, and staff aren’t allowed to stay past closing time. So, I expect to see you at the doors at eight sharp tomorrow morning.”
Valentina doesn’t know what to say, so she just smiles, bids goodbye, and leaves the place with excitement written all over her face—the kind of look someone has when they’ve achieved a dream. She takes a few steps before turning back to gaze at the library in the distance, a smile spreading across her face. She nearly bumps into someone and apologizes without really noticing the stranger, who watches her for a moment before continuing toward the library.
***************O***************
The day dawns clear and crisp, a grayish-blue sky, typical of the city. Valentina said goodbye to her mom, hopped on the subway a good half-hour early to avoid being late for her first day of work. She checks her phone messages—just a couple of spam ads. Hearing the conductor announce her stop over the speakers, she gets off, nearly colliding with people already boarding the train.
She catches a bus that takes her away from the city, leaving behind buildings and noise for quiet little houses and massive trees that line the street, their branches interlocking like clasped hands. She’s the last passenger to get off, just a couple of blocks from the Santa Margarita Library.
“Punctual,” her aunt remarks as soon as she sees her arrive at the building. “I’m glad.”
Together, they open the doors and then the heavy, mahogany-colored curtains inside the library. The enormous, weighty curtains aren’t easy to pull back, requiring both of them to use some muscle. Valentina wonders how her aunt managed before she was here. Did the previous librarian leave, or were they let go? Still, she keeps her curiosity to herself; her aunt’s stern expression makes it clear she’s not in the mood for small talk.
“Now, we can have a cup of tea and grab a bite,” Agatha says, her tone softer, which is rare for her. “No one visits the library at this hour…”
“Excuse me,” a male voice interrupts.
A man in a large black hoodie appears behind them. Valentina jumps at the unexpected presence. When had this guy come in without them hearing his footsteps? And there’s something familiar about him. Wary, she steps behind her aunt. Agatha, on the other hand, turns calmly.
“Yes? How can we help you?” she asks politely.
“I’m here to pick up the books I requested yesterday,” he says, pulling off his hood. His blond hair, lighter than anything Valentina has ever seen, almost white at times, comes into view. He smiles with an almost unreal perfection, his deep, dark blue eyes locking onto the older woman’s face as he raises an eyebrow.
Agatha huffs. Despite her usual politeness, this time she lets her displeasure show. Something about this man—or maybe the way he keeps staring at her young niece—rubs her the wrong way. She clears her throat to break the eye contact that’s clearly making Valentina uncomfortable.
“Alright, wait here. I’ll get the record and the registry book,” she says, turning her back as she heads to the main desk.
The sound of the woman’s high heels echoes louder than usual. In her long, fitted violet skirt that hugs her slim frame, she moves with a solemn grace. Valentina can’t help but notice and, in a way, hopes to carry herself with that same elegance when she reaches that age. Agatha wears a high-collared white blouse, accented by a white ribbon with a golden brooch and a stone somewhere between blue and teal. Her hair is tied back tightly, not a single strand out of place.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” the man interrupts, staring at her intently. “We met yesterday—almost ran right into each other.”
The young woman nods, intimidated by those dark blue eyes. She wasn’t mistaken; this is the man she nearly collided with yesterday in her anxious rush.
“What’s your name?” he asks, his attention forcing her to look away.
“I’m Valentina. Nice to meet you…”
“Arturo,” he finishes for her. “Arturo Dagora.”
With that, he takes her chin in his hand. Shocked by his boldness, Valentina’s eyes widen, locking with his as he plants a kiss on her cheek and smiles.
“The pleasure’s mine, Miss Valentina,” he says, and she feels as though his eyes are trying to read her thoughts.
“Valentina!” her aunt Agatha interrupts, brow furrowed. “I need you to fetch the four volumes of the 18th-century Spanish encyclopedia. They’re upstairs on the second floor, by the door to the third, between shelves 5B and 8B.”
As soon as she hears her aunt’s words, Valentina hurries off, still feeling the weight of that man’s gaze on her. She hears her aunt clear her throat as she climbs the stairs to the second floor, where she finally feels a sense of relief. Yet, she can’t shake the feeling that those blue eyes are still following her. Who is this brazen man? Her face tightens in confusion, but she decides it’s best to forget him and focus on finding the books her aunt requested.
She checks the shelves her aunt mentioned in the open loft area, searching for the books with no luck. She looks three times before giving up. Then she moves from 8B to 9B, all the way to 10B. Still nothing. She turns, feeling hopeless. Should she check everything again?
“Or maybe Aunt Agatha got it wrong?” she mutters aloud. She approaches the books on shelf 11B.
It’s the last one, tucked in the back where the light from the windows barely reaches. As she runs her hands over the books on this shelf, she looks up and spots the volumes her aunt asked for. She smiles, grabs them, and accidentally knocks another book to the floor. She picks it up and puts it back in place before hurrying out to deliver the books to Agatha. She doesn’t notice that the book she dropped and replaced glows with a soft blue light before fading back to normal.
She stops short before descending the stairs, hearing a sigh. Slowly, she turns, half-expecting to come face-to-face with a thief, though she has no idea what she’d do if she did. Yet, the solitude of this floor doesn’t seem to hide the presence of someone else. Hesitant, she turns back to continue down the stairs, though cautiously, unable to keep her attention off the floor above as she takes the first few steps.
“Say it out loud,” a voice whispers in her head, startling her so much that she drops the books, which tumble down the stairs.
“Valentina!” her aunt calls out, frowning in annoyance as she sees the books fall.
Valentina swallows hard and rushes down the stairs, thinking maybe it was just her imagination. She apologizes to her aunt and the man for dropping the books like that, quickly gathering them up, still unsettled by the voice she heard on the second floor.
“Don’t be clumsy, girl,” her aunt scolds, rubbing her temples as if in pain. “Those books are very delicate. Be more careful with them.”
Then, looking up, she fixes her gaze on her niece. The look of panic on the young woman’s face doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You’re pale. Did something happen?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.
“Nothing,” Valentina denies. Truthfully, it might just be exhaustion. She’s not about to tell her aunt—especially not in front of this man—about something that might be nothing. They’d probably laugh at her.
“Did you see something you’re afraid to tell us about?” the man adds, still smiling, though his gaze hardens for a moment.
Those blue eyes seem to peer right through her, so without thinking, she clutches both hands to her chest.
“No, I just felt a little dizzy and nauseous,” she replies, looking away, hoping they don’t catch her lie.
“Go upstairs to the break room and sit for a bit. Have a cup of tea. I’ll come join you soon,” her aunt says, concerned.
Meanwhile, the man watches Agatha as if questioning her. Valentina does as her aunt instructs. She heads up to the room, pausing on the second floor with her heart in her throat. She doesn’t believe in the paranormal—there’s always a logical explanation for these things, like a mouse, the wind, or, in her case, a hungry mind playing tricks. So, she shakes her head, laughing at her own fears.
“Besides, what am I supposed to say out loud? This is what I get for skipping breakfast,” she mutters, climbing to the third floor, her attention lingering on the gray porcelain cat beneath the stairs.
She takes a deep breath before almost running up the steps. Yet, no matter how hard she tries to think of something else, the idea of what that voice asked her to say keeps circling in her mind. What did it mean by that?
She enters the break room, puts water in the kettle, and turns on the stove. She switches on the TV to distract herself from the nagging thoughts. Pouring herself a hot cup of tea, she sits on the sofa while watching the news. And yet, those words—“Say it out loud”—still linger in her mind. She falls asleep without meaning to, as if some veil covers her eyes, forcing her to drift off. She can’t resist. “Say it out loud” repeats in her head over and over.
“Say what…” she murmurs, half-asleep.
“Bastian Castell,” the voice whispers in response.
Her eyes snap open, her heart racing. Bastian Castell? What does that mean? Who is this man? But before she can think further, her aunt appears in the room and sits across from her, looking weary.
“Let’s have some tea and eat something,” she says, studying her closely. “Goodness, girl, you’re still so pale. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Valentina swallows hard and nods. Her heart is pounding, but it’s undeniable that it was just a dream, a product of what happened on the second floor. She tries to project calm and change the subject under her aunt’s probing gaze.
“Has that man left already?” Valentina asked, changing the subject. The older woman narrowed her eyes.
“Yes, he just came to pick up some books,” Agatha replied, trying to keep her tone light.
“Is he a regular?” Valentina pressed, the thought of seeing him again making her uneasy. She felt like he could uncover what she was trying to hide from her aunt.
“Something like that. Now, let’s drink our tea before more visitors show up,” Agatha said, as if she, too, wanted to avoid delving into the topic of the unsettling man with the blue eyes.
Silence settled over the small room, with only the sound of the TV filling the space as the two women sipped their tea and ate, neither eager to talk, each fearing their secrets might be exposed.