The Library of Shadows

43

It was a strange feeling for Jon to be heading home when he had no recollection of ever leaving. He'd been unconscious on the flight to Egypt, and it was as if his sense of place had stayed behind in Denmark without having a chance to catch up with him.

The events in the library hadn't yet sunk in either, and the more days that passed, the more unreal it all seemed. He remembered everything that had happened, but it was as if it had happened to somebody else. Katherina had told him about the events he hadn't witnessed himself, and they were just as incredible. A deep sense of gratitude washed over him every time he thought about what they had gone through to come to his aid. He couldn't help thinking about all the possible scenarios when things could have gone terribly wrong, and how lucky they had been. That didn't apply to Henning, of course, and Jon realized that he owed the man his life. That made it even more painful to have to leave his body behind in the library, but they kept assuring each other that they'd had no choice.

According to the newspapers, a bolt of lightning had struck the library and caused a small fire, but there was no mention of either the injured or the dead. It was obvious that the Shadow Organization still had members in the city who were able to control what the public was told. Not even Nessim, the desk clerk, who otherwise had plenty of contacts, was able to ferret out anything more.

Katherina, Mehmet and Jon had kept a low profile for a couple of days and then jointly decided that enough blood had been shed. The Shadow Organization had been dealt a death blow. Only the strongest had been able to enter the space of the story, and they were the ones who had lost their lives. The only thing they could hope for now was that the whole event had put the brakes on the organization.

There was nothing to be gained from staying any longer in Alexandria, so Jon and Katherina reserved seats on the next plane home. Mehmet was enjoying being in Egypt and had decided to stay for a couple more weeks. He'd established a solid friendship with Nessim, and since his work merely required a computer with access to the Internet, he could do it anywhere. Besides, he wasn't in a hurry to return to the autumn weather of Nшrrebro and his ravaged flat.

Jon had had his foot examined by a doctor Nessim had recommended. It turned out that his ankle was only sprained, but he couldn't put any weight on it and he had to use a crutch. That made it a bit difficult to board the plane, but it meant they were given seats with extra leg-room.

Jon studied the other passengers. Aside from a couple of businessmen with laptops they were eager to switch on, most of the people looked like tourists on their way home from holiday. Jon was fairly sure their holiday memories wouldn't measure up to his own.

Other than discussing the factual events, Jon and Katherina hadn't spent much time talking about the meaning of what had taken place in the library. It was still too fresh in their minds, and Jon was having a hard time putting his experiences into words. The feeling that Luca was protecting him had been so strong that he first needed to digest what had happened. But there was one thing he knew for sure: he would never be able to be a lawyer again.

So it wasn't his job that was making him long for home. It was an urge to hear the bells above the door of Libri di Luca again, a yearning to breathe in the smell of parchment and leather, an almost physical need to touch the books on the shelves. At the same time he had the feeling that he was expected, that he would be received with a nod of acknowledgement from Luca, who would be sitting in the leather chair with a book on his lap; that he would be welcomed with a warm smile from his mother who stood leaning on the balcony with her elbows on the railing; that he would be silently accepted by his grandfather Arman, who stood with his back turned as he shelved books in their proper places. They were all there, the Campelli family, present in the dust on the shelves, in the shadows between the bookcases and in the air that only reluctantly circulated whenever the front door opened.

But more than anything else, he wanted to see Katherina in Libri di Luca again. In fact, he could no longer imagine the bookshop without her – in the place where he had met her for the first time, floating among words and letters she could never comprehend but to whose essence she was so obviously devoted.

Jon cast a sidelong glance at Katherina, who was sitting in the seat next to him with her head resting on his shoulder. She had closed her eyes and most of her face was covered by her red hair, which she had pulled loose from the knot at her neck as soon as they sat down. He reached for the in-flight magazine in the pocket in front of him. Katherina didn't react, and to everyone else it looked as if she were sleeping. But Jon could clearly sense her alertness as soon as he began to read.

It was a nice feeling.

He no longer needed to feel alone.