Page 2 of Midnight Kiss
“Vampire?” Jenna shivered. “That’s creepy. This might be, like, some sicko’s vampire diary. And I don’t mean like the show. I mean, like, maybe he had some weird fascination with vampires, and he documented it. He probably believed they existed.”
“And the blood?”
Jenna lifted her palms. “Don’t know, don’t want to know. My curiosity as a librarian only extends so far.” But her expression changed a second later. “Oh my gosh, you must be loving this. You’re working on that vampire novel, right?”
“Yeah. I’m still in the outlining phase. It’s killing me,” I said, then pulled a face and pointed to the page. “Excuse the pun.”
“Ugh, to be young and writing and without responsibility,” Jenna said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “Color me jealous. Dude, I have to work late tonight. Literally overloaded with work, and if I don’t finish up, Geraldine is going to lose it. I can’t afford to get fired from this job. Tyson lost his job at the diner.”
“Oh, Jen, I’m so sorry.” I rose and swept her into a hug.
“And Deshawn’s coming down with the flu. I can’t even describe to you how difficult it is to leave my sick kid at home and then have to stay late.” Her voice warbled. “Won’t even get to say goodnight to him, I—” She took a step back. “I shouldn’t be unloading my baggage on you like this, Em. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. That sucks,” I said, and then glanced down at the book. I longed to touch it. What was wrong with me? I blinked then met my friend’s gaze again. “Listen, Jen, you go home.”
“I can’t, I?—”
“I’ll handle your workload tonight. Like, point me in the right direction, tell me what you need done, and I’ll do it. You go home and take it easy, okay? Have a bubble bath, tuck Deshawn into bed. Just be happy.”
Jen’s eyes filled with tears, and she swallowed. “Are you serious?”
“Of course,” I said, my insides twisting. Family was precious. It took losing the people you loved to realize just how precious and fragile life could be. “Go. I’m serious. Just go.”
“You are a rockstar. Seriously. I can’t believe you’re doing this for me.”
I shrugged. “It’s partly selfish. The more time I spend here tonight, the more I get to read from this book.” I gestured to the tome. “Call it research.” The librarians had to stick to the rules too. We didn’t get to take ancient tomes home, and no matter how much I wanted to spend nights reading this book and using it as a research tool for my novel, this was the only place I’d get the opportunity.
“You’re sure about this?” Jen asked.
“Hell yeah,” I said. “Nothing better than paging through creepy blood-stained books. It’s almost Halloween, right?”
“You,” Jen said, grinning, “have issues. Also, you’re awesome. I owe you one.”
“Eh. We’re good.”
She shouldered her backpack and waved goodbye. “Just don’t get locked inside this time.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to sleep underneath my desk again.” It had happened once or twice that I’d stayed behind a little too late, gotten lost in a book, wound up missing closing time and the janitor who cleaned up after dark hadn’t realized I was still here. As librarians, we only had the key to this particular section of the library, but not the main entrance. “See you, tomorrow.”
I admired the book for a minute then lifted it from the desk carefully and took it with me to the counter where we entered books into the system. The computer was still on, and I set to work on Jen’s extra tasks, occasionally glancing over at the thick, leatherbound book as I worked.
Minutes ticked by, and by the time I was done, it was already 08:00 p.m. The library had closed two hours ago, but the janitor was around, and the place would only be firmly locked up by ten. I had time.
I moved the book back to my desk, a little disconcerted by how good it felt to hold it. It felt almost like it belonged to me. Like it was my journal instead of some French nobleman’s from the turn of the century who had a torture kink.
I sat down and paged through it again, clicking on my desk lamp to get a better view of the pages, and bringing my phone out to snap pictures and take notes. I lost myself in the pages, the room emptying out around me.
One image in particular drew my attention and set my pulse racing.
A vampire, overbearingly tall with wild, curly dark hair, grasping a beautiful woman in his arms. Her bodice had been ripped down to reveal her breasts, and he held her gently, like they were lovers.
The title on the page opposite, still in that red looping handwriting, read Gardienne.
A thump sounded between the stacks nearby, and I jolted on the spot, peering around.
Nothing.
No one.