Page 3 of His Human Librarian
I have no idea who this Hyrrokin is seated beside me, but I know he’s male because he isn’t wearing a shirt. There’s another Hyrrokin across the room who is obviously female because she wears a tube top and I can see the curve of her breasts underneath.
The huge male looks down at me. His tall black horns glint from the overhead lights. “I was told a Gravian male was arriving. Are you the Librarian’s assistant? I assume we have to wait longer for the actual Librarian, because you are the assistant.”
I take another breath, trying to calm my racing heart because the flash of fangs and the glint of his horns is still terrifying. He looks like he’s about to cackle and burn the place down. “No.” I try to explain. “I'm…”
The male crosses his massive arms. “The Librarian should have arrived first. Is there some sort of breakdown in communication?”
The fog of terror that’s been clogging my brain finally dissipates and I realize this is Sten Sandstone, here to meet me and pick me up. And I fainted at the sight of him and fell into his arms. Jeez. What a terrific first impression. “No, there wasn’t a breakdown because…”
“I thought there was only going to be one of you. Why did they send an assistant?”
“They didn’t. I'm not the…”
He stands and steps away from me to start talking to someone else in the room, completely ignoring my response.
Grr. I purse my lips and decide to try and stand up. I gather the straps of my broken shoes through my fingers and prop myself up with the back of the chair. This works easier than expected and it’s true I’m pain free. Then I grab for my red suitcase, and that’s when I notice my left ankle isn’t completely stable. I can walk, not perfectly, but this will do. I limp, barefoot, for the door.
Darn it, I looked so good when I first arrived and now there’s a smear of grease on my white skirt and a tear in my pretty blouse. Luckily my glasses are still intact.
This situation sucks, but I plan on still making the best of it. I have a mission to complete and I’ve got to get started.
“Where are you going?” a deep voice complains. “We're finding out right now when your boss, the Librarian, will arrive. I assume he will be here soon.”
I turn back. “There is no one else arriving.”
“Is there some sort of problem? Are we not starting today?”
I exhale and keep heading for the door, concentrating on pulling along my suitcase. “There is no one else arriving. It's just me.”
“What?” Sten Sandstone marches forward to join me in the doorway. “Are you here on some sort of preliminary scouting mission and no one told me?”
I lift my chin and lean against the closed door, trying to ignore the wide, red muscled chest and his claws and fangs. “No, Iamthe mission.”
He still looks confused. “What is your name, female?”
“I am Taylor Dumas.”
He looks me up and down, his gaze lingering on my torso.
My whole body heats up. “…And I am the Librarian appointed for this mission by the antiquities council.”
He snorts, a bit of gray smoke wafting from the nostrils of his crooked nose. “You are the assistant.”
“No.” Apparently his tiny brain cannot compute the idea that a woman would be heading this project. “No, you just assumed I was the assistant. I am the Librarian.”
“But you're human”—he waves a claw-tipped hand—“and you're young. You faint at the sight of my species.”
I exhale. Well, at least his dismissal isn’t because I'm an overweight woman. It's still bad that he thinks I can’t do this, but at least it's not for the reasons I first assumed. “I was born and raised on New Earth, but I won a scholarship to the Intergalactic High School at Gravian.”
He lets out a grunt and opens the door for me. We both step outside into the hallway and he closes the door behind the two of us. Luckily, we are alone because there’s much more I want to say.
I lean on the handle of my suitcase and continue to speak, giving him my academic credentials because I'm used to being treated this way. I think it's something about the pigment and texture of my human skin and the lack of scales that must make me seem younger than normal. “I am a mature adult according to my species,” I explain. “And I won this position because I have three different degrees in library sciences and I trained under the new head of the antiquities council.”
A growl rumbles in his chest. “I wanted this position to go to someone else whom I believe is also highly qualified.”
I shake my head. I’ve come across this type of thinking many times on other planets. The locals want control over all aspects of the project, which is understandable. My job is to show him that we can save his objects better than they could themselves. And that I will treat his cache with respect.
“It's not right,” he rages, “that someone, who isn't even of my species, who arrives and screams at the sight of us, is going to oversee some of our most ancient objects. How do I know you'll treat everything here with respect?”