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"Thank you." Brenna grunted softly. What had she been thinking? She didn't need a library. Roshan had hundreds of books, perhaps thousands. But would a vampire have books on vampires?
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Myra asked, coming around the desk.
"No. I… uh, saw a movie about vampires the other night and I wanted to find out more about them." She laughed self-consciously. "Not that I believe they exist or anything."
"You should talk to Anthony. He's writing a book about them."
"Really? Maybe I will. Thanks, again."
Brenna found three books on vampires, one on werewolves, and one on shape shifters, none of which were very helpful. Waving good-bye to Myra, who was again at her desk, Brenna headed for the door and came face-to-face with Anthony Loken.
"Well, hello," he said.
"Hello."
"Must be my lucky day, finding you here."
"I was just leaving."
"You can't go now," he said with a smile. "I just got here. Come on, let me buy you a cup of coffee to warm you up before you go back out in the rain."
Since she couldn't think of any plausible reason to refuse, and because she really did want another cup of that wonderful coffee, she let him guide her into the coffee shop.
They sat at the same table beside the window.
Anthony ordered two cups of Almond Amaretto, then leaned back in his chair. "So, what are you doing out on a day like this? You should be curled up in front of a fire with a good book."
" Myra says you're writing a book. About vampires."
"Did she? Well, she's right."
"Why are you writing about vampires?"
"Why not? They're fascinating creatures."
"But surely you do not believe they are real?"
"Aren't they?"
"Are they?"
"I believe they are. I believe they hold the key to something man has been searching for since Adam brought death into the world. Eternal life."
He murmured his thanks as the serving girl brought their order. "Can I get you anything else, Mr. Loken?"
"No, thank you, Darlene."
Brenna waited until the girl moved away before asking, "Even if they existed, how would you find one?"
He tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. "Therein lies the problem." He leaned toward her, his gaze intent upon her face. "You don't know where I could find one, do you?"
Every instinct Brenna possessed warned her to tread carefully. "Me? How would I know? I have only just arrived here."
"Yet you were at the Nocturne last night."
"So were you." She picked up her cup and took a sip, then set it aside. Yesterday, the coffee had tasted delicious; today, it tasted flat and bitter, like betrayal.
"Just so," Loken replied. "Tell me more about the man you were with."
"He is just a friend," she replied, careful to keep her voice neutral. "I hardly know him." Her words mocked the memory of what had happened between them in the yard the night before.
"And why did he take you there?"
She shrugged. "He said it was an interesting place, filled with people pretending to be vampires. I thought it might be amusing."
He didn't believe her. She could see it in his eyes.
"And if you found a vampire," she asked, "what would you do?"
"Ask for his cooperation, of course. We would need to do some blood tests, isolate whatever agent it is in the blood that allows a vampire to survive hundreds of years and gives them their remarkable ability to heal themselves of practically any injury. Once we isolate it, we would have to do some extensive testing to see if it could be duplicated. Think of what it would mean to mankind," he said earnestly. "The hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives we could save."
She listened to his words, the tone of his voice, and knew he was lying. He wasn't interested in helping mankind. He was interested in finding a way for Anthony Loken to live forever. She was certain of it. And yet she found it odd that a warlock would wish for such a tiling. Granny O'Connell had believed that the only way to perfection was for the soul to be reborn again and again, that in each lifetime, the soul was to learn something it needed to know and teach something that needed to be taught, something no other could teach. To live the same life forever would be to stagnate. Brenna wasn't sure she believed in reincarnation, though a part of her hoped it was true, and that someday in the future she would be with her grandmother again, in another life. There were those who believed that souls traveled from life to life in family units, so that in one life Granny O'Connell might be her grandmother, but in another life, Granny might be her daughter or her mother. But reincarnation was a discussion for another day.
"Why do you not just advertise for a vampire in the newspaper?" Brenna asked.
Loken snorted. "Can you imagine the number of idiots who would answer such an ad? Every nutcase in the city would be pounding on my door." He shook his head. "Better to frequent the places they might congregate, like the Nocturne. If they exist, I'll find one."
"Well," Brenna said, "I wish you luck. I really must go now. I… I have an appointment."
"You haven't finished your coffee."
"Oh." Picking up the cup, she gulped it down. "Thank you."
He rose when she did. "Good day, Brenna Flanagan. I hope to see you again soon."
With a nod, she fled the bookstore.
Outside, she took a deep cleansing breath. Roshan had been right. Seeing Anthony Loken again had been a big mistake. Why had she never sensed the negative energy that hovered around the warlock? Had it always been there? How could she have missed such a thing?
Back at home, she went through Roshan's bookshelves, searching for anything she could find on vampires. She finally found what she was looking for in one of the bookcases upstairs. There, on the top shelf, she found a dozen or so books on vampires and other supernatural creatures. Blowing the dust off the tops of the books, she stacked them in a pile beside the chair, then sat down and began to read.
Roshan stood in the doorway, his gaze moving over Brenna. She sat in his chair, one leg curled beneath her, thoroughly engrossed in the book in her lap. He perused the titles scattered on the floor, noting they all had to do with vampire lore. Morgana slept underneath the chair, her tail twitching.
Beautiful Brenna, with her sea green eyes and a wealth of russet-colored hair. She was truly a witch, he mused. He had been completely under her spell since the night he saw her dancing outside her cottage. Did she regret what had happened between them last night? If he crossed the room and swept her into his arms, would she surrender or slap his face?
