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I winced and almost lost my train of thought. If she were weaving a spell, I wouldn’t distract her with conversation, but for some reason, everyone thought I could work without the same consideration. I blocked her out until the book was free from the last tendril of spellwork and wrapped in its new cloak.
I took it out of the literal chains it was wrapped in, and turned, holding the heavy book in my arms. She was still there, smiling, while her eyes were slightly too bright.
“Since you find the job so distasteful, I’ll run the order down for you. You won’t even have to see him today. Don’t tell me that I’m not a good friend.”
She wasn’t a good friend. She wasn’t terrible, but she only wanted to take the books because she was interested in the Scholar and didn’t try to crush all of her fledgling attraction the way that I did.
“I wish, but Horace personally requested that I take the order, so it’s going to be in my care until I release it.”
Her expression soured. “Why would he do that? He knows how much you hate all the members of the lower city. Maybe he’s trying to help you get over your prejudice.”
Prejudice? That’s what Anna had called it too, but I called it experience. Sure, some sorcerers worked at hospitals, doing amazing surgery that no one else could possibly manage, and some werewolves served as law enforcement, but that was the exception rather than the rule. They were going against their nature, which was possible since nature was always dual, but it was more difficult for them. Maybe that did make it more impressive when they overcame their own inner demons, but I had no interest in figuring out which were the few good among the many evils.
Jessica didn’t go that deep, she just found the Scholar attractive and didn’t need any more than that. The risk was probably part of the appeal for her, since she didn’t have personal experience with being caged and slowly bled out for months. I stopped and took a shaky breath as I shoved unpleasant memories away, then headed out. She walked with me out of the room, towards the secure lift that was magic-propelled, even though the cables were as real as they could be.
“That must be it. Horace is very concerned about overly prejudiced librarians. How was your vacation?”
She shrugged. “The train was the best part. The lake resort with my friends from college was fine, but on the train, I was taken to dinner by three different men, all who wanted to see more of me afterwards, much more of me, but you know that I was there for my brilliant fellow alumni, who all graduated with honors, like me.” Yes, she’d gone to Harvard for her degree, because nothing said well-educated, like years spent paying off student loans.
“Men are so irritating, and the lake was worse than that? Remind me not to go to a lake resort.”
She sniffed. “You do realize that dead languages can’t keep you warm at night, don’t you?”
I stared at her curiously. “Literally or figuratively, because literally, parchments are both flammable and contain runes that can instruct you on how to create all manner of fire. Figuratively, I’m never lonely when I’m communing with a long-dead author of a text like he’s written it just for me.”
She grinned, flashing her teeth. “If you like dead guys so much, it’s strange that you never go down to Song for a drink.”
I shivered and touched the small golden sphere beside the elevator until the cage rose to our level. I opened the gate of iron bars and stepped inside. “Dead is fine, but when they start getting undead, I have issues.”
She laughed and followed me into the elevator. “I’ll give you that: you definitely have issues.”
I had the documents ready at ten forty-one, stacked neatly and tied in a bundle with black ribbon spelled with protection woven throughout. I may have overdone it slightly, but forewarned was forearmed.
I checked the massive clock above the stairs between the angel and demon, wrapped in elaborate gold with elaborately curlicued golden hands, then set out the stack of books, turning to grab the necessary slip when a movement in my periphery had me grabbing the closest thing and turning to fire the objects at the intruder who had darted to the counter to grab the books.
I knew her as one of the researchers in the labs under the library who worked with the Scholar, but I only realized that after I’d nailed her in the eye with three crayons.
She winced, actually injured by my attack, then she snarled, leapt onto the marble desk, gripping the edge with now clawed fingers, lips parted to show me her fangs, eyes flaring red and mesmerizing, tensed for a leap that would end at my throat.
She was going to kill me.
My training kicked in and I created the quickest death spell I could make with my right hand as I pulled out the metal file I always kept tucked inside my shirt with my left.
She leapt at the same time I cast, but something blocked her, taking my spell against his broad back and sending her tumbling back over the desk. He stumbled forward from the force of the spell, but recovered far too easily, brushing it off like it was a light tap of a flyswatter instead of a spell that should leave any vampire prone. He tensed and then released a roar that sent a wave of quivering over my skin, fine hairs on my body standing erect until the shock of the sound sank through my skin to flesh, then bones, burrowing down into the dark places where I kept the memories shoved down so I could live my life well. He was too powerful for me to defeat.
For a moment the library disappeared, and I was in the courtyard cavern of Song, behind bars that were the only safety I had from the monsters clamoring for my blood. Such delicious blood. They wanted all of it, all of me.
“Miss Morell?” His voice came from far away, and it took a moment to realize that I was sitting on the floor, wedged into the corner behind the desk. He was kneeling in front of me, eyes still flickering with red, long fangs showing his age, his very old age. He was definitely a vampire. Very old. Very powerful. Not even hurt from my death spell.
I shrank away from him while the feel of phantom claws dug in my skin, ghost fangs in my flesh, pushed me back into the darkness.
No. I wasn’t going to panic in the library. This was my domain, and I was a respectable librarian who could handle anything here. I dragged myself off the floor, glaring at him and forcing myself to breathe. He was terrifying, and he could smell my fear, which is probably why his eyes were that frightening color and his fangs so large.
“You’re quite long in the tooth,” I muttered as I reached past him for the stack of books. I brushed his arm with mine and shuddered before I could control myself. I hated vampires more than anything else in the world, so naturally, that’s what my stalker would be. I was screwed if he had my scent and wanted my blood, but it was unlikely that a respectable and well-known researcher would succumb to his base instincts, so it was probably the fire thing, which might be just as dangerous.
“Ah, you must be suffering PTSD from the other night. I apologize for Katrina. She is quite young and unused to sudden paint stick assault.”
“Crayons,” I corrected him, searching for another release slip with shaky hands. “They’re wax based rather than oil. If she’s young, she shouldn’t be in my library without proper supervision. She could have frightened someone.”
