Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

tight bun, and horn-rimmed glasses. She stood next to a hefty man in a dark business suit with a black shirt and a red power tie. As he turned, conversing with Ms. Fletcher, I could see that he wore a patch over one eye. The other eye held a red-tinted monocle.
    Bastille breathed in sharply.
    “What?” I asked quietly.
    “He only has one eye,” she said. “I think that’s Radrian Blackburn. He’s a very power Oculator Alcatraz – they say he put out his own eye to increase the power focused through his single remaining one.”
    I frowned. “Blackburn?” I whispered. “That’s an interesting name.”
    “It’s a mountain,” Bastille said. “I think in the state you call Alaska. Librarians named mountains after themselves – just like they named prisons after us.”
    I cocked my head. “I’m pretty sure that Alcatraz Island is older than I am, Bastille.”
    “You were named after someone, Alcatraz,” Sing said, crawling up next to us. “A famous Oculator from long ago. Among people from our world – and among our opponents – names tend to get reused. We’re traditional that way.”
    I leaned forward. Blackburn didn’t look all that threatening. True, he had an arrogant voice and seemed a bit imposing in his black-on-black suit. Still, I had expected something more dramatic. A cape, maybe?
    I was, of course, missing something very important. You’ll see in a moment.
    Beside me, Bastille looked very nervous. I could see her pulling her purse up, reaching one hand inside of it. An odd gesture, I thought, since I doubted there was anything inside that purse that could face down a Dark Oculator. Anyway, the voices from below quickly stole my attention. I could just barely hear what Blackburn was saying.
    “…you hadn’t scared him off last night,” the Oculator said, “we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
    Ms. Fletcher folded her arms. “I brought you the sands, Radrian. That’s what you wanted.”
    Blackburn shook his head. Hands clasped behind his back, he began to stroll in a slow circle, his well-polished shoes clicking on the stones below.
    “You were supposed to watch over the boy,” he said, “not just collect the sands. This was sloppy, Shasta. Very sloppy. What possessed you to send a regular thug to go collect the child?”
    Ms. Fletcher sent the gunman, I thought with a stab of anger. She really was working for them, all this time.
    “That’s what I’ve always done,” Ms. Fletcher snapped. “I send one of my men to move the boy to another foster home.”
    Blackburn turned. “Your man drew a gun on a Smedry.”
    “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Ms. Fletcher said. “Someone must have bribed him – someone from one of the other factions, I’d guess. The Order of the Shattered Lens, perhaps? We won’t know for certain until the interrogation is complete, but I suspect that they were afraid that you’d manage to recruit the boy.”
    Recruit me? That comment made me cock my head. However, there was something more pressing in that statement. It implied that Ms. Fletcher hadn’t wanted me killed. For some reason, that made me relieved, though I knew it was foolish.
    Down below, Blackburn shook his head. “You should have gone yourself to collect him, Shasta.”
    “I intended to go along,” Ms. Fletcher said. “But…”
    “But what?”
    She was silent for a moment. “I lost my keys,” she said.
    I frowned. It seemed like an odd comment to make. Blackburn, however, simply laughed at this. “It still has the better of you, doesn’t it?”
    I could see Ms. Fletcher flushing. “I don’t see what problem you have working with me. The man who tried to shoot the boy was working for someone else. We should be focusing on discovering what those sands do.”
    “The problem is, Shasta,” Blackburn said, growing solemn again, “this operation was sloppy. When my people are sloppy, it makes me look incompetent. I’m not very fond of that.” He paused, then looked at her. “This is not a time we can spare mistakes. Old Smedry is in this town somewhere.”
    Ms. Fletcher paused. “Him? You think it was him ?”
    “Who else?” Blackburn asked.
    “There are a lot of elderly Oculators, Radrian,” she said.
    Blackburn shook his head. “I should think that you, of all people, would recognize the Old One’s handiwork. He’s in the city, after the same thing that we were.”
    “Well,” Ms. Fletcher said. “If Leavenworth was here, he’s gone now. He’ll