I smiled at the thought as I moved through the room, gaping up at the shelves and shelves of books. A short, plump woman looked up from behind a wooden counter as I neared.
“Can I help you, dear?” she asked.
“I’m looking for the sixth quarter.”
The smile she wore dropped as she ran her eyes over me. Was she trying to work out what I was? It wasn’t rocket science to figure it out; I wasn’t beautiful enough to be a vampire. “Two floors up, right at the back.”
My legs were aching by the time I climbed the next two lot of stairs. I’d lost so much fitness since the attack, it was frustrating. Fitness took months to build and fell away in minutes. At least that’s what it felt like.
The vibration increased slightly, even as the crowd had dwindled. I looked around and discovered a blond-haired vampire nearby. He didn’t take any notice of me, he took a book off the shelf, opened it, and started reading. I moved toward the back of the library.
All I could see was rows and rows of books. Most were old, with hard leather cases that were no longer made these days. Was this the sixth quarter?
Whispers floated through the library, a mixture of hushed voices all talking at once. I paused and scanned the room, but I couldn’t see anyone, nor could I feel anyone. I kept moving past the end of a bookcase, and the whispers became louder, increasing in tempo. There was a ripple as if a translucent field shifted across the library. Startled, I blinked. Suddenly, right in front of my eyes, there was a dark, curly-haired woman behind another big wooden counter. But I couldn’t focus on her. The whispers had become screams.
A boy in his late teens was on the floor, writhing as he screamed, holding his arms above his face in a protective gesture against something I couldn’t see. Small rings of blood seeped through his clothing on his arms, legs, and torso. I stood horrified, unable to move for what felt like an hour but was probably only seconds as my brain tried to comprehend what it was seeing. Tiny chunks of flesh tore from his hands and forearms. Another from his cheek, leaving a gash no bigger than a fingernail’s width, but blood streamed down his face.
I bolted toward him.
“Stop,” a stern voice commanded.
It was as though time had frozen. My mouth opened, my breath halting in my chest, as I tried to press forward but couldn’t. My limbs refused to budge. Panicking, I staggered backwards and gasped in a breath.
The lady behind the counter glared at me through thick, black-rimmed glasses.
The boy kept screaming.
“Help him,” I cried.
“He will need to help himself.” The woman threw the screaming boy a hostile look. “Given he is so good at it.”
“You can’t just leave him like that,” I pleaded. I tried to go to him again, but my body wouldn’t obey my mind, and I couldn’t move.
The boy’s screams turned into whimpers. Tears, blood, and sweat dripped down his face as more cuts appeared. As if someone was stabbing him with tiny, invisible scissors. He held one arm up, his elbow across his face trying to protect his eyes, while the other hand shook badly as he pulled a book out from under his top and it slid across the floor, coming to rest near the counter.
The boy collapsed to his back, panting and crying as the cuts stopped appearing. Another dark-haired boy rushed over and pulled him to his feet. He held the crook of his arm as he staggered down the library, then the air rippled and the boys disappeared.
The woman behind the counter scowled at the crimson trail the boy left in his wake. She sighed and spoke into a speaker. “Barry, we have a clean-up. They never learn.” Then she looked back at me. Her glasses were so magnified her blue eyes looked like ping-pong balls. “This is your first time here, I assume?”
I swallowed, my throat dry, and nodded, moving to the counter hesitantly, veering around the book. “Is the boy alright?”
“We can only hope not, then perhaps he may learn a lesson and the world would be a better place for it, wouldn’t it, Miss …?”
“Amy.” My voice came out breathless.
“There are rules here. No eating or drinking, including feeding. Absolutely no arguing or violence of any kind is permitted. No fornicating.” She glared at me as if she fully expected me to tear the pants off some unsuspecting bookworm. “You must keep your voice low, you must place the book you are reading back where you got it from, and if you forget where you found it, you can bring it to me. And absolutely no books areto leave this library.” She raised her bushy dark eyebrows. “You have seen what happens if you try to steal one. Our books have a lovely way of seeking revenge.”
“Your books are magic?” I stared at the book; it was black with a gold crow imprinted on the front. Were the cuts from beaks attacking him? Even with everything I knew, this seemed … shocking … implausible.
The woman looked like she was barely containing an eye roll. “This entire library is magic. Now off you trot, I’m very busy.”
Right, no stealing or borrowing, got it.
I hesitated, leaned in, and spoke softly. “Where do I find books about vampires?”
She sighed like I was an idiot. “Under V.”
“Oh, right.” And now I felt like an idiot. “Thank you.” I smiled because this woman scared me and I was hoping to stay on her good side, but she wasn’t looking at me, she was reading her book.
