Shaking his head, he pushes the books toward me.
“Hey!” My hands dart out, grasping the stack.
“Follow me.” He sounds more annoyed than a horse that has to deal with gnats swarming its face. I’m just about ready to toss the books down when he glares at me from over his bony shoulder. “Carry those. Help isn’t free here.”
Our descent through the first aisle is slow and irksome. If Galen has this many books, I wonder what Ishmor is like. The shadows from the aisles cover us. It’s relaxing, like the hands of a woman rubbing your shoulders as you sink into a hot salt bath.
I can do this; linger in libraries. There’s got to be a hot librarian hiding here somewhere.
The light from the chandeliers barely illuminates the path now, but each aisle has gold switches that turn on wall sconces attached to each shelf.
“There are so many light bulbs. It’s impressive,” I mutter. The barracks now have human-made glass bulbs, and some village houses have adopted human engineering.
Humans love to build cities of light powered by their version of engineered magic called electricity. They make it with light from the sun and windmills, and store it on large panels. Some vampires think human engineering will change our world entirely since we don’t have to rely on candles or magic lights now.
“Give a human a stick and they will make fire with which they will clear a forest; they will use the fallen timber to build a village. They are impressive creatures.”
“We could use it to make fire, too,” I remind him.
“But we don’t, boy. Vampires use others. It’s the way it’s always been. Perhaps it will change. It once did.” He grumbles the last part under his breath.
We soon reach a set of winding stairs that leads to a lower level.
“You’re quiet,” he huffs.
“Miss my voice?” I reply as we descend. Oh, look,anotherroom filled with books.
“It was an observation, not a question. I’m simply wondering whether your lack of voice is due to you not knowing any more words or if it is a blessing from the gods not to be burdened with your incessant comments.”
“Why are you so rude?”
Stopping, he grabs three books, grins, and adds them to my stack, saying, “Because I can be.”
“I see maturity isn’t gained with age,” I shoot back. He’s a total fucker, but… I think he’d be fun to drink with. The bitchy ones always are.
“Neither is it with youth.”
We continue to walk, then reach more stairs—again and again.
Fuck. My. Life.
This is boring. I take it back. No more libraries.
His endurance is impressive, though. “How old are you?” I ask.
“Old enough to know a pompous prick when I spot one.”
My back straightens. “I’m not pompous.”
We reach a door, which he kicks open forcefully. Stale, moldy air comes rushing out. What’s down there? Old cheese?
Okay, I’ll follow, but there’d better be wine with that stinky cheese.
“You put your wants over others’ needs. That’s pompous.” He nods his head for me to follow.
I peek over the stack in my hands. I’ve walked on hills with smoother inclines. We must be far beneath the surface. My guard goes up. “No books are housed down there. The mold would eat at the paper.” I step back, fingers uncurling, ready to drop the books and grab my sword.
Whoosh!
