The Liminal Spot

Hugo Galloway hadn't been seen in three days. In that time, the canals that ran through Manchester had grown thick and dark as ink. The autumn was always unpleasant in the northern half of England, the October sky typically filled with storms that crackled and roiled with rain, but this week was dry. They had nothing but heavy gray clouds with dark bellies. It was as if the rain were afraid to fall. The folks on the street knew nothing about the why of it all, would have denied it if they were told, but they knew something was wrong. None but the reclusive bookseller of The Liminal Spot, knew what had befallen the city.

"It's quite unfortunate indeed." They murmured into their cup of tea, before taking a sip and savoring the burn along their tongue. Seemingly human and in their forties, they sat in a cozy office in a plush chair. The inventory records on their desk had every book and item in the store, where they were, how many people would purchase something in this time period and location. All things were accounted for. All except one. "Looks like the boy took a Black Book."

They remembered it well. Four days ago the final sale was to be made in the city of Manchester before the store would fade and pop up some new place, some new time. They only needed to make sure five books went to the five people meant to have them in 1998. Four had been sold. Then, a pair of boys came in. Being a shop in Manchester's Northern Quarter, The Bookseller was used to young people looking for something exciting and strange to brag to their mates about. The bookseller remembered the loud one, the way he strolled in with a grin one can only have in the tail end of adolescence, aware of all their power and none of their limitations. He had followed a friend in and seemed disinterested in any of the books, except the collection in the back.

The temptation of the forbidden was universal it seemed. The Bookseller had told the boy those were off limits, but that might have spurred him to take the thing. A Black Book from the top shelf, was now missing, and to make matters worse, the last book meant for this city and this time had yet to be sold. Each book listed by the shop was meant for someone to have, to change them in some way, and thus their corner of the world.

One book they needed back, one book they needed to sell. Yes, it's no wonder things were deeply wrong in the city.

The door bell rang, and echoed off the empty shop. The Bookseller stepped out of their back room and into the main store, where the lights were off and the door locked. Three more knocks followed. The Bookseller looked through the small window and saw a head of blonde hair streaked with brown.

"We're closed today." They shouted. This was not the time they wanted to deal with the public.

"Please, if you're there I need to speak to someone." A male voice, muffled though it was by the door, replied.

"Well, you've spoken to me. Good day." They turned to leave, and figure out a solution to this mess and be done with this place. Then the boy kept talking.

"I know about the book he stole from the shop." He said, "And I know whatever it was, wasn't normal. I just need to know how to fix it."

Solutions have been found in stranger ways. The Bookseller unlocked the door and saw a teenager still in their school clothes, hair disheveled and eyes rimmed with dark circles that looked gray on pallid skin.

The boy's name was Justinian Woods. The Bookseller invited him in and had the store summon up another cup of tea.

An unusual name, one that The bookseller recognized. This was the last person meant to have a book from the shop. One half of their problem solved if nothing else.

"It's my fault." He said as the Bookseller handed him black tea and cream. "I was the one who dragged us in here. I didn't think he would do anything like that, Hugo can be dumb, but he's not a bad guy. I think he took the book because he knew I couldn't pay for one."

"Your friend won't be in trouble, I promise you." The Bookseller sat opposite the boy. They noted that his uniform looked second hand, but still neat and clean. "The book he took, you are right it isn't normal. What, pray tell, did you see before he disappeared?"

He went on to describe the usual signs of a Black Book. One that has a troubling fate tied to it, destined to go to a dark soul. In it were the horrors of the universe, and to read it was to loose them upon ones self.

The Bookseller sighed with relief. This they could handle. This they could fix.

"You seem remarkably well adjusted to this." They told Justin, who had not once sounded weepy or frightened, and was delightfully frank about what he saw.

"I don't believe in denying the obvious. Besides, I had a feeling this place wasn't normal when I came in the other day. There's something… alive about this place." He started, and the lights began to take on a rose blush hue.

"She appreciates that." They replied and patted the counter gently.

"So you'll help then? There's a way to find Hugo through all of this?" He stood up with a rush, and nearly nocked over the tea cup on the counter. His eyes, a light amber mixed with green, seemed to plead for help despite himself. The Bookseller, with great control, stood and retrieved the store records from before.

"Yes, yes I think there's two things that have to happen here. The first is retrieving the book that was stolen. Once you do that, its hold on him will vanish slowly. The second factor relies on you."

A hint of fear flashed across the young man, who quickly settled it with a breath.

"What do you need?"

"It's more about what you need. You were pulled in here by a book, and it is necessary you purchase it. Do that, and all will be well, for both of us."

The boy looked away from The Bookseller and towards the shop itself. What he was drawn to, they could not say, as he looked rather ordinary right now. Still, whatever he was meant to have would change him.

"Deal. But we find Hugo first. Whatever magic spell he the book has over him, I don't like what its doing."

The Bookseller was delighted, soon to be rid of Manchester. Now, they just needed to find the missing boy. This would be more a matter of inconvenience than difficulty, as Hugo would be deep in the books grip by now, and the book would be easy to find. In the back room, where The Bookseller spent their days when no one would come in the shop or they were in a remote part of the world, was a menagerie of new technology and ancient spells. They selected a silver chain with a black orb on the end, made of crystal and dark matter. It could track curses like a bloodhound, and that book would be the biggest active curse in the area. When they emerged, they saw Justinian had left the counter and wandered to the gilded section of the store.

"Come along." They said, as they held the orb before them. "Let's get this over with."

The orb took the trail as soon as they stepped outside, and brought them down to the Ashton canal. The water flowed through the old industrial part of the city, each side of it had held tall red bricked buildings where people once toiled, along with older houses. The wind blew through and roused the black water into choppy waves, but still the air was dry. The Bookseller could see the shapes of monsters below the surface. Nothing real, no flesh and blood beasts, but the shadow of them, a child's idea of a monster drawn in vague shapes and abstracts. Something spilled forth from a book.

"Your friend, what was he like before this?" The Bookseller asked, as Justinian's gaze drifted to the shapes in the water.

"Sometimes he can be a real piece of work." Were the first things he said, and The Bookseller suppressed a laugh. "He's the type to shoot off at the mouth, a bit bossy, I think it comes from being in America for some years. But, he was my friend. My first real friend, who saw me one day and just decided we would be friends. Gave me a CD the first week we met, because I said my mum only lets me listen to the top 40."

"He's American then?"

"His dad was. His mom sent him to stay with his grandparents after… well, after something bad happened."

The orb took them to the point where several canals met. Along the water way were long, slim boats with windows in the side, little circles into empty bedrooms. Boat houses. Justinian looked at the houses as they passed, and though his face was calm, his shoulder bunched and tensed.

"When you say something bad happened, be specific." The Bookseller said, "There is no tragedy in time that could be prevented by burying its specifics."

"One of the reasons we got along so well, is we both lost someone young. My dad wasn't right in the head. His older brother… well, he was a free spirit and liked to live along the water. Then one day, a storm came."

The orb drifted to the right, and then began to glow. They had stopped in front of a boat house, long and green with its windows shut and its door locked.

"Do you have a magic picklock thing?" Justinian looked from the orb on a chain to its wielder, who promptly shook their head.

"Won't need it."

They handed Justin the chain, walked away and came back with a large rock.

Once they busted open the door, they were met with a wall of thick darkness. It dripped over the edge of the floor and into the water, it drifted up to the sky like smoke. Grief filled the space and turned it into a void.

The went in slowly, and the whole boat rocked when two more bodies boarded it.

"Hugo," They said, as they inched slowly along the wall of the boat. "Hugo, let go of the book and give it to me. I need it back, urgently."

There was no reply. They could here Justin as he walked along the linoleum floor, footsteps heavy and quick. It hid the sound of something breaching the water.

A squid tentacle surged through the open doorway and grabbed The Bookseller by the waist, and pulled. This would not be their first tangle with a curse creature or a giant squid for that matter. They braced themselves in the doorway, their strength kept them from being dragged into the canals.

"Justinian, you need to get the book from him!"

They couldn't see the boy, either of them, and just had to hope that old friendship didn't make him hesitant. Justin had looked athletic, enough to perhaps wrestle a book from another boy.

"Hugo, please." Justin cried, "The book is hurting you. You have to give it up, let go of the book and-"

"I can't." A new voice said, raspy and rough. "I keep seeing it happen, over and over. Justin, please." In the dark, they began to see the orb turn red in Justin's hand, and a light cast over a figure on the floor. Justin knelt down and stroked the figure's head.

"Give it to me. It's my fault you found this thing. Let me take it, and I promise this will stop."

Hugo lifted his head from the floor, and Justin reached for him just as the light of the orb began to fade.

In a moment, there was quiet and darkness, and in another, quick as a heartbeat, there was light. The darkness receded back into the book, like a river flow in reverse. The Bookseller was released from their struggle with a squid, and two boys hugged on the floor of an old boat house. A soft tap came from the roof, then a gentle spatter in fits and starts, then the downpour of rain washed over the city.

The next day, Manchester was back to its normal wet self. They had taken Hugo to the hospital with only his parents to see him for now. The canals cleared out from ink black to merely muddy and polluted. The bookseller sat at the counter of The Liminal Spot, sipping tea and while they waited for the final piece to click together.

Chimes rang as Justin entered the bookstore, tired yet clearly happier than the day before, despite the frown on his face.

"You've made your decision?" The Bookseller asked, not a second after they saw the boy enter.

"Can you not at least greet me with hello first?" He said, and wandered to the gilded section in the store, off to the side. These books were dedicated to the strange and fantastical. Most passed them by, too gaudy or complex at first glance, but Justin walked right to the shelf, and plucked up a book from the bottom row.

"I have important places to go, and times to be. You can't expect me to dawdle when I am well behind schedule, thanks to you."

"You let someone steal right out from under you, I think it is at least some of your fault."

Justin set the book down along with 20 quid, a small part of the money the Galloway family gave him as thanks . It was a simple exchange in this decade, before the future brought credit cards embedded into phones, and glasses, eventually into one's own eyes. The 2050's were a terrible time to do business.

"Well, looks like I'll be here often." Justin said, as he held his new book in his arms and traced the title.

"I doubt it, though I may see you in a few decades."

Then something odd happened. Justin, for the first time laughed, a light and breezy chuckle that put The Bookseller on edge.

"I don't see what's funny."

"You know what book I just bought yeah?" Justin flipped it onto its back, and revealed the cover, completely white with silver edges and the title: The Official Guide for a Time Traveler's Apprentice Vol 1.

The lights in the shop flickered in code, W-E-L-C-O-M-E, and Justin replied with a humble smile, "Thank you".

It was clear that this was a decision beyond themselves. The Bookseller groaned, and let their head collide with the desk. They were never getting away from Manchester forever, it seemed. At least they had someone else to do the customer service portion.