The Phantom Crystal

The Librarians

An irritated grunt escapes me as I snap my laptop shut.

How is it that there is nothing online about a being called ‘The Phantom’ or a strange crystal that seems to give its host snow powers? Not a single thing popped up. Nothing! I even ventured beyond the first page of my search engine. I made it to page 23 before I called it quits.

I roughly run a hand through my hair. What am I supposed to tell Ian on Saturday when I don’t have any articles to provide for him. Maybe I should check my textbooks? Leaning back, I glance around the empty library.

The moment my last class ended, I tucked myself away in a small corner in the library’s basement, hoping that the atmosphere would somehow help my searching. Big shocker, it didn’t. Now, instead of walking back and becoming miserable from the cold, I’m going to walk back already sad and miserable while ALSO becoming cold.

Sinking further into my plush seat, I pout. I knew I should have just done this back in my dorm. At least then I could just be miserable and sad in my own room. Maybe take a quick nap before meeting up with my friends for supper.

Stretching, I lean over and unplug my laptop from the wall. I start shoving the bulky device inside my bag when a shiver rolls down my spine. Pausing, I stare blankly ahead as my mind tries to catch up with such a sudden act, my heart pounding in my chest.

Please don’t tell me that I need to expel more of that cold energy. I purposely walked outside so that I could release it without anyone noticing. I’m really not in the mood to deal with this right now.

Huffing out a breath, I tilt my head as a small white cloud escapes my lips. Hang on. I haven’t been able to do that inside since speaking with the Janitor yesterday. Why am I able to do it now? I’m not even as cold as I was yesterday. What’s going on?

Movement to my left catches my eye and I look toward the entrance of my little alcove. I frown.

Standing and muttering between each other is a group of three librarians, each varying in age. The librarian standing closest to me appears to be the oldest of the three, his white hair almost nonexistent with a weak attempt at a combover to hide the balding spot on top of his head. His brown suit is freshly pressed with a matching bow tie and not a single wrinkle on his crisp white shirt. As he speaks, he grasps the labels of his suit jacket, rocking back and forth on polished black dress shoes. His pure white mustache wiggles under his nose as he chuckles about something his companions just said.

The two other librarians with him appear to be a couple of decades younger than the first. The librarian standing across from the male has some fine lines near her mouth and a few near the corners of her eyes. Her glasses rest on the tip of her nose as she watches her companions with bird-like eyes. Her slivering brunette hair is in a neat single braid that runs down her back. Her hands are folded neatly in front of her, resting against her black pencil skirt. Her sharp white blouse barely wrinkles as she shifts from foot to foot. She adjusts her glasses as she turns her attention to the youngest of the three as she speaks.

The last member of the trio can’t be any older than her early 30s at most. Her face is still free of any wrinkles, unlike her two companions, and she is only just starting to gain some crow's feet in the corner of her eyes. Her black curly hair is loose around her shoulders with only a cream headband to keep it out of her eyes. Loose cream trousers reach all the way to the floor despite her rather tall height and her pale pink blouse is mostly hidden underneath a flowery silk scarf that she has wrapped around her neck. She hides her mouth as she laughs at something the other female librarian says.

The longer I stare at the trio the stronger the sense of wrong grows inside my stomach.

When I arrived, only students were working the front desk upstairs and I could have sworn that there was a small sign saying that the librarian will be out for the next three days. And yet, it’s completely obvious that these three work here. I can even see their badges hanging around their necks. Are they assistants of some kind?

I exhale again and another cloud of white vapor raises from my mouth. My eyes narrow. The last time this happened was with that Janitor, who turned out to be a ghost. Maybe, just maybe, they’re also ghosts? I chew on my bottom lip.

Only one way to find out.

“Excuse me,” I call out, gaining the attention of all three. “Could one of you possibly tell me when the library closes?”

The three exchange a glance, whispering slightly back and forth before the youngest librarian steps forward, her shoulders back.

“The library closes at 11 pm and will reopen tomorrow at 6 am.”

Amused, I lean back in my chair and nod. “Thank you. I don’t come here very often, so I always forget the times. Are the three of you the librarians?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning at the alarmed looks shared between the trio. I guess they weren’t expecting me to strike up a conversation. Never underestimate just how polite a Minnesotan can be.

The eldest librarian, whom I’m dubbing Mustache Librarian in my mind, clears his throat and folds his hands behind his back.

“Well, you could certainly call us that.”

Playing hardball, are we? Well, I’m my mother's son, I think I can out-stubborn a ghost. Smiling, I lean forward, pretending to look thoughtful.

“But you aren’t? But you at least work here in the library, right?” I ask, coughing into my hand when a small cloud of vapor tries to leak out. “Like I said, I don’t come into the library much.”

Mustache Librarian and Scarf Librarian shuffle uneasily, shooting Glasses Librarian pleading glances. She rolls her eyes at her companions’ antics and takes a step closer to my alcove.

“And what made you decide to come into the library today?” She counters, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

All right, fine. I’ll play this little game. I gesture toward my bag where my laptop now hides.

“I was doing research and I was hoping that the library would provide a little motivation for me to find what I was looking for.”

“What were you researching?” Mustache Librarian asks, shuffling closer. “Perhaps we can direct you to a book or two on the subject depending on how many resources you might need.”

Huh. I didn’t think that they would ask me that. But, if they really are ghosts, maybe they will have some more information on the Phantom and his crystal just like the janitor did. I drum my fingers on my thigh as the janitor’s warning rings in my mind. But, if these three want the crystal for themselves and sense that I have it inside me, then I’ll be in major trouble. The three of them are standing in the only exit from this alcove and I doubt my ice and snow will do anything to them.

I have to play my cards right.

Clearing my throat, I relax back into my chair, crossing my arms.

“Well, I’m doing this more as a personal project really. My parents are heavily involved in the paranormal community and there was this name that popped up that I’ve never heard of.” Always lie with a hint of truth, it makes the lie harder to unravel.

Scarf Librarian lights up at the mention of this being a personal project.

“Well, we certainly have quite a few books on paranormal subjects, ones we are quite—“ Scarf Librarian coughs a little. “Quite acquainted with. So, why don’t you tell us what you’re trying to look up, and maybe we can provide the book for you, much like Martin said.”

Mustache Librarian, Martin, beams, hooking his fingers into his suit jacket pockets.

Well, here goes nothing.

“I was trying to research some information on a being called ‘the Phantom’,” I say, nonchalantly, and stare down at the table with a thoughtful frown. “I heard someone say something about him, but I just haven’t been able to find anything on him.”

Silence.

Frowning, I lift my gaze back to the trio. The three librarians are pale and their eyes are unfocused as they stare through me. Uh oh. I don’t think that they liked that answer.

Heart pounding in my chest, I clear my throat.

“Is—Is there something wrong?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice from wavering.

Martin is the first to recover from his shock and he rocks on his heels as he strokes his mustache.

“Are—Are you certain that is a topic that you wish to dive into, my dear boy? Certainly, there are other aspects of the paranormal that you find FAR more interesting.”

Interesting. So, maybe they don’t want the crystal after all. But why are they terrified. I hum and pick up my bag from the floor.

“Like I said, my parents are pretty involved with the paranormal and supernatural community, so there really isn’t a lot that I haven’t heard about already. Except for the Phantom. And I already have one of my professors willing to help me out.” I eye the trio. “If the library doesn’t have anything about him, that’s completely fine. He seems like quite the obscure reference. If anything, I might see if I can contact some of my parents’ friends and see if they—“

“NO!”

I jump as Scarf Librarian shouts, cutting me off. My body tenses as she marches into the alcove, the temperature dropping drastically in the small space. A wild and angry gleam flashes in her eyes as she stops on the other side of the table.

“Do NOT try to research anything about the Phantom. It will do nothing but bring trouble down upon you. It never ends well for those who even mutter his name.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

A dull pulse thumps in my chest and I force myself not to raise my hand to it. Scarf Librarian stumbles backward just as the pulse happens. She gasps.

“Oh my god. You—“ Scarf Librarian stammers, a hand flying to her mouth. “You’re hosting him right now.”

I’m WHAT?

“Whoa,” I say, chuckling nervously. “N-No way. There is no weird unknown paranormal being inside of me. I, uh, I might have his crystal in my chest, but the Phantom is most certainly not there.”

Martin’s face darkens as I speak.

“My dear boy, did he not tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?” I ask, my voice raising an octave as my lungs stutter with each breath.

The white-haired male sighs, rubbing his mustache as he looks at me with sad crystal blue eyes.

“The Phantom is housed within his crystal. When that crystal was put inside of you, the Phantom came along with it.”

“He’s inside of me, too?!” I cry out, terror rushes through my veins. The crystal pulses again, as if to confirm my question. My trembling fingers grasp at the front of my sweatshirt, wrinkling the dark green fabric as my thoughts race.

That makes so much sense. Why he can talk to me inside of my dreams. Why the crystal was floating above that pedestal. How he was able to speak to the imp and how he was technically inside our basement when everything went down. Why I wasn’t able to see him.

Lifting my head, I stare at the three librarians as my trembling tries to spread across my body.

Glasses Librarian glides forward until she is standing next to Scarf Librarian. She places a calming hand on her companion’s shoulder before leveling a soft stare on me.

“I take it you did not know about this.”

Swallowing, I wet my lips and shrug, wrapping my arms around my stomach as the deep-rooted chill slowly starts to creep back in.

“I mean, I knew about the crystal. He, the Phantom’s assistant, used this portal thing that my mom created and came into the basement and just shoved it inside me.” Heat prickles behind my eyes as I gaze at the trio. “But I had no idea that HE would also be inside of me. He never said anything!”

I’m going to kill him the next time we talk. Or at least punch him in his smudge face. First, he’s using me as a moving treasure chest and now he’s living inside my body!

“What is your name, young man?” Glasses Librarian asks, halting my mental panic.

“Uh, Jack Baggins.”

Glasses Librarian winces and takes off her glasses, cleaning them on a handkerchief that just appeared out of nowhere.

“Hello, Jack. My name is Matilda. This is Ester.” Matilda gestures toward Scarf Librarian. “And behind me is Martin. Now, I take it you are related to the infamous paranormal duo, Skip and Ken Baggins?”