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Chapter One
Chloe
Thunder rolled in the distance. It hadn’t started raining yet, but when I cracked open the front door of Book Nookery—the twenty-four-hour bookstore that I worked at—and stuck my nose out into the inky night, I could smell that it was coming.
“A dark and stormy night, that’s two to put down for mymoody atmosphere bingo card.” I closed the door, then shuffled back to my desk.
I grabbed my new favorite hot beverage, a steamer of hot milk with amaretto flavoring, and took a swig. It was so hot I nearly burned my tongue, and it wasn’t exactly comforting since it was so hot outside we had to run the air conditioner, but that was September for you.
Even if the hot and sticky summer was clinging to Magiford, I was determined to welcome fall and slam the door on what had been a chaotic and heart twisting summer.
The front door opened, making the bell connected to the door jingle.
I carefully set my steamer down—Mr. Gleevers had brought it in for me, so if I spilled it I couldn’t get a replacement until my shift ended at five in the morning, and it was barely midnight—then slapped on my employee smile.
“Welcome to Book Nookery!” I chirped.
I only saw ebony darkness through the door, before an unassuming man slipped inside the bookstore.
He was average height, and while he had a sort of liquid grace to him, his shoulders were hunched slightly in a way that I recognized came with spending too many hours sitting at a desk. His hair was black and his skin was pale, but it was the red eyes that marked this unlikely guy as a vampire.
My smile turned sincere. “Josh.” I waved as he stepped deeper into the store. “I saw two of the books you ordered came in—is that what you’re here for?”
Josh was a semi regular, and perhaps the oddest vampire I’d ever met. He almost looked nerdy—like he’d be more at home in an office than in a vampire den. But his crisp, black and white suit was the calling card of thedeadliestvampire Family in the Midwest, the Drakes, and he’d paraded a museum’s worth of weapons through Book Nookery over the years he’d visited.
“Greetings, Chloe Anderson.” Josh slightly bowed his head. He set a hand on the pommel of his sword so it didn’t bob when he moved. “Yes, I am here for my books.”
“Great, let me just get them…” I trailed off when the bell rang, and two more vampires skulked into Book Nookery.
One was a beautiful woman with blond hair, a perfectly tailored suit, and a smile that flashed her pronounced vampire fang teeth. The other was a red-haired guy, who was also a vampire based on his red eyes. He, though, was scowling, and looked like he lived life with a perpetually sour expression.
Both vampires—each well over six feet—fell in line behind Josh, watching him with the attention of underlings.
I paused in the middle of pulling the first of Josh’s books from the drawer in the desk where we stored reserved materials.
Wait…is Josh a higher rank than them?
Josh was so competent in the way he carried himself that it wouldn’t surprise me too much. But it was a funny juxtaposition: the shorter, nerdy guy with a thing for books and weapons, would be a higher rank than the model-tall vampires behind him?
“Here’s the special edition volume of Edgar Allan Poe poetry.” I set the book—a leather cover embossed with gold lettering—on the desk. “Do you want to look it over to make sure you still want it?”
“A sagacious suggestion,” Josh said. “But I already know I want it. Edgar Allan Poe was truly capable of capturing the darkness that so often envelops this delicate world of ours and steeps into the hearts of the living.” He sighed deeply. “It is forever my sorrow that I was not in America when he was alive.”
Behind him the gorgeous blond vampire had a benevolent smile on. The sour red-haired vampire mashed his lips together and shook his head.
“He can’t really be that good,” the red-haired vampire said. “France had so many better poets and thinkers. The United States is dreadfullyyoung.”
Josh peered back at the taller vampire. “The age of a civilization is not indicative of the size of its talent pool. But, to your point, I must admit there is very little that can beat a Gregorian Monk Chant. When we get back to Drake Hall, I will play some for you. Perhaps it will help you explore new depths to your soul.”
The red-haired vampire opened his mouth, but the blond violently elbowed his side.
“How very educational!” she said in a sing-song voice.
Oh, yeah. They’re definitely his underlings. But exactly how high is he in the Drake hierarchy?
I retrieved the second book—a much smaller nonfiction book about Japanese katanas—and set it on my desk. It was heavy—the paper was thicker to better render the glossy photographs that filled the book. “And here’s the book on katanas.”
“How perfect.” Josh inspected the nonfiction book, then nodded his satisfaction. “What do I owe you for them?”
