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My name is Vitruvius.
Clancy flinched. “What the…?”
Hello.
Clancy rubbed his eyes and then quickly turned the page.
Vitruvius snorted.
What are you doing to my book?
He made the illustration of a fairy prince plant his hands on his hips in a most disapproving manner.
Clancy yelped, thrusting the book out in front of him and nearly off the desk. He was clearly startled, and his eyes were wide as saucers.
Vitruvius scowled.
He could do much more than write in books.
With a smirk, he grabbed the knife Clancy had been using to carve up the book. He held it steady and dug the tip into the surface of the desk to write a new message:
Well?
“I’m… I’m a book collector.” Clancy looked all around the room frantically. “I-I collect old books. I fix them up. I restore them.” He gulped. “I know it looks bad, but I have to remove the text block. The pages? Those have to come out.”
Vitruvius wasn’t sure if he should trust Clancy or not. His spirit was somehow anchored to the book, and damaging it might sever the connection. While he had been counting on the very act happening so he could sleep, now he didn’t want to. He had no idea what would happen to him, and the flames fueling his sense of self-preservation were raging away.
He considered that the books here did appear quite pristine and that perhaps Clancy really did mean well.
A new future here was certainly brighter than rotting into dust back at that bookshop.
With a heavy sigh, Vitruvius dragged his book back into the center of the desk. He flipped open to a random page.
And then what?
“Well.” Clancy took a deep breath. He was calming down surprisingly fast for someone who was talking to a book. Then again, he seemed like he talked to books a lot, so maybe it wasn’t so strange for him. “Then all the old glue and tape has to go. It looks like someone tried to fix you a while ago, but the tape is acidic. It can cause damage later if we don’t get it off.”
And then?
“The pages… The pages will go into a bath. It’s to help remove any leftover tape and glue.” Clancy licked his lips. “I… I don’t mean to pry, but, uh… are you… are you… a ghost?”
Vitruvius snorted, and he turned the page to an illustration of fairies dancing around a toadstool atop which sat a fairy king. He made all the fairies stand up and applaud.
“Right. I guess that’s obvious.” Clancy cracked a small smile. “And your name is Vitruvius?”
The fairy king in the drawing nodded.
“How in the world did this happen to you?”
The fairy king turned his head, shrugging.
“Well.” Clancy sat up straight. “I promise that I am going to take very good care of this book.”
You’d better.
“I will,” Clancy said firmly.
Thank you.
