Page 46 of Midnight Kiss

“The one from the library. Remember, the journal from that French guy who believed in vampires?”

“Yeah?” Mike’s brows drew down. “You think that the book is making you sick?”

“Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous, but hear me out here. Weird things have started happening since I got it. There was the mugging, and then the bats, and then?—”

“Wait, hold up a minute. The bats?”

I told him about my encounter with the bats and then, on a whim, the dreams I’d been having. “It’s like every single dream revolves around blood or vampires or?—”

“Okay.” Mike held up a palm. “Okay, let’s think about this rationally for a second here. There are two possible choices. Either, this book you’ve got is making you sick by some … curse? Or— what?”

“Maybe the blood on the pages made me sick? I don’t know if that’s a thing.”

“Doubtful.”

“Is it though? Even dried blood can be infectious. Hep B can survive for a week under the right conditions.”

Mike laughed. “Do I want to know how or why you know that?”

“I’m a librarian,” I said. “It’s my job to know things.”

“Fair enough, but that’s a week, right? You’re talking about an infectious disease that would have had to survive for centuries, right? I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’s improbable. And wouldn’t there be a line of dead people in this book’s wake?”

“I don’t know that there isn’t a line of dead people in its wake. We didn’t get any background information on it.”

“Huh.” Mike wasn’t convinced.

“Fine,” I said. “Then what’s the second option?”

“That you just have a really bad flu and you’re having vivid dreams because of your fever?”

“That’s what I thought too, but then how come I get better every time I leave my apartment?”

“Psychology,” Mike said. “Uh … Like a placebo effect. You feel better because you thought you felt better. Like confirmation bias.”

“Is it the placebo effect or confirmation bias?” I asked.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help. Don’t shoot the illiterate messenger.” He put up his hands and grinned.

But I couldn’t stop that train of thought. I was sick because of the book. It had to be the reason. Why else would I keep having dreams about it or wanting to be close to it.

“Mike, I feel like it’s cursed,” I said. “I’m not the most, uh, spiritual person around, but?—”

Two sharp knocks came at the front door.

16

ALEXANDER

Iwaited, my finger tapping against the outside of my coat.

The door swung inward, and Michael stood there, holding the door and standing in my path to Emily. She was on the sofa, her hands on her knees, her eyes bright and wild. Full of life. It was painful to see, given what the book was doing to her.

The dog wasn’t in the vicinity. Doubtless, the creature would have lost its mind at the sight of me.

“Emily,” I said.

“What do you want, dude?” Mike asked. “We’re in the middle of something here.”