Mermaid Fins, Winds & Rolling Pins Page 2

  My brows jumped. "Whoa."

  He stalked up to one of the shelves and scanned the titles. "One of them has to at least mention it… right?" He turned to me, puzzled.

  I sighed. "Maybe it's not something that would be in a library book. Maybe it's code or… I don't know, some Badlands Army term." I folded my arms. "But if that were the case, why would he tell me to find it? Why would he think I could?"

  We stood still, pondering the mystery of it. In the quiet, I became aware of a rushing noise. Like a fan left on in another room. It grew louder. I lifted my head as Hank did the same.

  He frowned. "What is that?"

  We moved out of the room into one of the main corridors of the royal library, the cavernous space stretching up to a curved ceiling and rows upon rows of books, with an upper balcony. The whooshing noise grew louder. Hank edged forward along the tiled floor and reached back without looking. I took his hand and moved, step by step, toward the sound.

  "What time is it?" he whispered.

  "Um. Noon maybe?"

  "Then it couldn't be the—"

  I broke the cardinal rule of libraries and screamed as a massive, roiling black cloud rounded the corner high above our heads and swarmed straight toward us.

  2

  The Library

  The churning black mass poured into the hallway.

  "Come on!" Hank grabbed my hand and pulled me into an alcove. We squeezed behind the marble bust of some old guy with wild hair. Hank hugged me close against him, one arm wrapped around my shoulders, the other cupping the back of my head. If I was going to die, this seemed like a pretty good way to do it. The whooshing noise grew deafening.

  "What is it?" I shouted, my voice nearly lost in the great rush of sound.

  "Bats!"

  I must've heard wrong.

  A roiling black cloud rushed by the tiny space we huddled in. I squinted. Yeah, it looked a lot like bats. The wind of their wings rustled my bangs.

  I pressed against Hank. "Is this Horace?"

  He shook his head and ducked to speak in my ear. I tried not to melt into a puddle on the floor. The cloud of black bats swarmed by in a whirling mass just feet away from us.

  "The library had trouble with insects eating the books, some of which are one of a kind. The bats eat the bugs."

  I frowned at the menacing black cloud tearing through the library. "Seems like more of a problem to me."

  "They only come out at night." Hank frowned. "Something must've disturbed them."

  Hank turned his head so I could speak into his ear. "Couldn't they just use magic?"

  He nodded. "They tried, but the little buggers—pun intended—"

  I rolled my eyes but smiled in spite of myself.

  "—snuck through. It's hard to locate all the books with damage and keep a protective spell running 24/7. They found it easier to just spell away the guano."

  I shuddered. Hadn't thought of the guano. "Now that you mention it, I'm really glad you picked a hiding place with a roof." I glanced at the domed alcove ceiling, ornately carved to look like a seashell.

  Hank grinned and tapped the side of his temple. "I'm not just a pretty face, you know."

  Great. Now all I could think about was his pretty face and how every inch of me was pressed against every inch of him. The silence between us stretched on as the cloud of bats gradually dwindled. His chest heaved against mine, and the warmth of him made his cinnamon-and-sugar smell grow even stronger.

  "Imogen—" His voice came out unsteady.

  It was too much for me. The tight space, the danger, the embrace. I stepped back and skirted to the opposite side of the bust, just as the last few bats flapped past.

  "Oh look. All clear."

  I stepped out of the space and turned to watch the cloud of bats go squeaking around the next corner and out of sight. The cool air and imposingly high ceiling with its ornate carvings helped bring me back to reality. I stood in the royal library with the royal prince, and I needed to remember that he was engaged to a princess.

  Hank cleared his throat. "Look, I'm sorry if it was presumptuous of me to grab you and pull you over like that. It just happened so quickly and I—" I glanced over and caught him rubbing his wrist.

  I hated that he was apologizing. That was the single greatest bat attack of my life, and I enjoyed every second in his arms. But it was wrong to have enjoyed it—wasn't it? I held up my hands. "Are you kidding? Don't apologize. You just saved me from getting rabies, or at least covered in guano." I smiled at him till he let out a breath and grinned back. "Truly. Plus, I got to the see the bust of"—I twirled my hand at the wild-haired marble figure—"that guy."

  Hank chuckled. "Wendell the Marvelous."

  "Right." I nodded. "I never would have discovered good ol' Wendell on my own. You did me a favor." I then ruined it all by adding, "Pal," and slugging him on the arm.

  His smile weakened and he looked confused, rubbing his arm where I'd socked him too hard.

  "Sorry. Don't know my own strength sometimes." I turned away to hide the grimace on my face. Was there another alcove I could crawl into and die?

  A low moan echoed from around the corner. The same corner the bats had come from. Ice clenched my chest and I looked over my shoulder at Hank.

  He swallowed and edged closer, dropping his voice. "Something disturbed those bats." He pressed his lips together.

  I stepped back. "Let's go get help."

  He shook his head. "Whatever it is, might escape by the time we get back. You go, and I'll keep it trapped. That's a dead end. It leads to the bats' sleeping room."

  I planted my hands on my hips. "Do you seriously think I'm going to leave you alone right now?"

  He grinned and took my hand.

  As we crept toward the bat room around the corner, I second-guessed this idea. "But… aren't there some librarians we could notify? Or we could send up a police signal?"

  He shook his head. "We'd have to go outside to send the signal. And this place is like a maze—we'd lose this person, or thing, before we could find someone else to send for help."

  Oh goody. I followed along slightly behind him. I rolled my feet to take quiet steps across the tiny, glittering tiles that made up the mosaic floor.

  Another loud moan came from around the corner, bouncing off the high rococo white ceiling and down the long, book-lined hall behind us. Hank and I exchanged wide-eyed looks. He gave my hand a squeeze, then pulled his own away and held up both palms, facing them away. He crept forward, tensed and ready to do magic. I mimicked his stance.

  "You know I'm more likely to do harm than good with these things?" I waved my hands at him.

  He grinned and shook his head. "There's no one else I'd rather have my back. When things get tense, you're amazing."

  Heat rushed up my neck and into my cheeks. I had probably turned bright pink. I shrugged a shoulder. "Not even Francis?"

  He tilted his head to the side in concession. "Okay, maybe you and Francis could tie. But he is an immortal vampire, after all."

  I grinned. "Yeah, I'll take being in the same league as Francis."

  Another loud, almost anguished moan brought us up short, panic tightening my chest. My imagination conjured images of a three-headed dragon, or Horace himself, looming around the corner. We paused below a lantern that cast a pool of light over Hank's dark head and around our feet. The conch-shaped light hung suspended at the height of the balcony that wrapped around all the walls.

  Hank gave me a nod. I nodded back, and we stepped out of the light into the darkness beyond, right up to the corner. I imagined they kept the bats' room darker than the rest of the library—the blackness spilled out into the corridor and up to our feet. Hank counted on his long fingers, holding up one, two, and then three.

  We leapt around the corner, hands stretched open and ready for a fight. Well, he was, I was mostly there for moral support. But only darkness met us. My heart sped up as we edged further along the dark hallway, the temperature droppi
ng so that the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rose.

  Hank leaned over and whispered. "The bat room is just ahead. Ready?"

  I nodded and crept forward, though my legs trembled beneath me. Another moan sounded, filling the dark space all around me. I glanced back toward the faint light and itched to turn back. But I would never leave Hank to deal with this alone. Then came the sound of dark laughter.

  I could barely make out Hank's wide eyes, reflecting the dim light.

  I barely breathed the word. "Horace?"

  By some unspoken agreement, we both sped forward, the heavy scent of bats and droppings permeating the dark. Small sounds echoed around us, becoming larger. And suddenly the walls and ceiling disappeared. We'd stepped into the pitch black bat room, huge and cavernous. Panic made my chest heave.

  Twin blue flames burst into existence, illuminating Hank's hands and face. I blinked to clear my eyes, the blue light dancing below my lids. The fire in Hank's hands illuminated a writhing shape on the ground in front of us. It moaned. I slid up to Hank, choking on the smell of bats and my own fear. The shape rolled and undulated, a bizarre mix of pale white and deep black.

  The fires in Hank's hands blazed brighter. His nostrils flared and his eyes burned. He'd never looked fiercer. "What are you?" His deep growl sent shivers up my spine.

  The thing froze.

  I held my breath and felt for power in the room—power I could draw on in case I needed to defend myself with magic. I sensed the thing in the middle of the room—it was old and strong and… and actually two things. Two things that felt strangely familiar.

  Two faces, one dark and one white, turned toward us, squinting against the lights in Hank's hands.

  "Holy—" Hank's arms dropped to his sides.

  I squinted, then gasped and pressed my hands to my mouth. Rhonda and Francis lay in a nude embrace on the ground, blinking sheepishly at us. I turned my back to them, my face burning despite the cool air.

  Rhonda's stuffed-up sounding voice came from behind me. "Ahem. A little privacy?"

  Hank choked and spluttered, then turned around, staring the opposite way with me.

  "That—I—”

  Maybe it was the blue light still glowing, though just barely, in his hands, but Hank looked pale—like he'd seen a ghost.

  "That was—horrifying," I breathed.

  Rhonda cleared her throat behind me. "Is that so? And why is that? Because I'm black and he's white?"

  "Great sea goddess!" Hank spat out.

  "No, of course not." I started to turn then stopped myself. "Is it safe to look?"

  Rhonda clicked her tongue.

  Francis answered in his deep voice. "Yes, we are both clothed."

  Hank and I exchanged doubtful glances, but we both turned back around and Hank's hands blazed brighter, lighting the space so that we could clearly see each other. Rhonda, now wearing a silk robe, smoothed her braids, and Francis hovered inches above the floor in a dark suit. How had he had time to put that on? I rolled my eyes at myself. Magic. Duh.

  Rhonda folded her arms across her chest and cocked a brow. "You two Peeping Toms care to explain your disgust with our very natural, and"—she gave Francis a sultry look—"passionate act."

  I swallowed the nausea that rose in the back of my throat. "I'm not sure I'd call it natural."

  "Oh. Huh. I see what this is, then. It's about a vampire and seer being together. Well, he may be dead, but you tell that to his pants."

  I held up my hands and closed my eyes against the imagery. "No! Geez." I opened my eyes and threw a hand toward the floor where'd they'd been. "If you must know, it’s more about all the blood."

  "Oh." Rhonda and Francis glanced back at where they'd been and noted the red pool of blood smeared all over the tile floor. She grinned. "Hey—what's black and white and red all over? Eh?"

  I shook my head.

  Francis snapped his fingers and the blood disappeared. "Shame to waste it, but I understand. Most living feel unease with blood—outside the body, that is. Obviously, you're fine with the gallons inside your body." He rolled his eyes at Rhonda. "Always seemed rather silly to me."

  Hank and I exchanged incredulous looks. "Yes, well, most of us living like to keep our blood inside us." Hank ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, distraught. "I'll never be able to erase that image. Never."

  Rhonda winked. "Why would you want to?"

  "Seriously." I shook my head. "That was a lot of blood. Are you all right, Rhonda?"

  She chuckled. "Look, we get a little kinky, that's all." She held a hand up to the side of her mouth, as if keeping her words from Francis, though he stood right next to her. "Most of it was ketchup, but even pretend blood really gets him going. We do a lot of role play, you know— medieval villager with the plague saved by handsome, though lonely, vampire by a blood transfusion. The usual."

  I had no response to that.

  Hank shook his head. "But why here? I mean—you had to know you'd get caught?"

  Rhonda and Francis grinned at each other. "Hasn't happened before," she muttered to the tall, thin vampire.

  My jaw dropped.

  Francis held up his long, pale hands. "I'm a vampire. It's the bat room. You really can't see the appeal?"

  Hank's face paled, then darkened. He threw an arm out. "Yeah, well, you sent the whole lot of them swarming out into the library. Nearly scared us both to death."

  They giggled at each other.

  I shook my head and sighed to show my disappointment in them, though I couldn't completely stifle my grin. I couldn't wait to tell Maple about all of this. She'd just die.

  Hank looked to Francis. "You need to round up the bats and get them back in here before they give one of the elderly librarians a heart attack."

  In a split second, Francis transformed into a huge black bat and flapped over our heads and down the hall.

  Rhonda watched him go, her head cocked to the side. "You should see what he can do while hanging upside down with his—"

  "No." I held up my hands. "I really shouldn't see that."

  Hank pleaded with her. "At least be more discreet?"

  Rhonda shrugged. "Wish I could say I would, but I got some pretty hot visions of our future that don't bode well for discretion." She touched the center of her forehead where it glowed when a premonition came to her.

  Hank sighed and turned to go, but that reminded me of something. "Hey, Rhonda."

  She lifted her brows.

  "Have you had any visions? You know, about me… or maybe some place called Monsters Rise? Horace told me to find it."

  She frowned. "Monsters Rise? Are you sure it's not another name for that special tea? You know, the one the potion master at the carnival makes for men with—"

  I held up my hands. "It's definitely not that." Disappointment sat heavy on my chest. Another person who'd never heard of it. And Rhonda was over three hundred years old—she'd heard a lot in her time, I was sure.

  She held up a finger. "Wait! Now that you mention it, I did have a vision the other day."

  I stepped closer. "Yeah?"

  "I saw you under the sea. In a ship, filled with water."

  I lifted a brow. "Doesn't sound like a very good ship."

  She nodded. "That's what I thought, too. Why would Imogen sail in a boat, underwater? But hey—whatever floats your boat… or doesn't!" She burst into laughter at her own joke.

  I backed up toward Hank. "Thanks… super helpful."

  She curtsied, sweeping her arms wide. "It is a divine gift, and I am but the humble recipient."

  As she bent, her robe parted and Hank and I turned, averting our eyes.

  "Right, well, see you around, Rhonda."

  "Bye!"

  Hank and I speed walked out of the bat room and back toward the light.

  "I may have some idea what her vision was about."

  I turned to Hank as we rounded the corner and stepped back into one of the main corridors of the library. "You do?" I ch
uckled. "Because I never know what she means."

  He winced. "I have something to tell you—and all the bakers."

  "This doesn't sound good."

  He squinted one eye. "Just don't hate me? I'll tell you when we get to the kitchens."

  I gave him a measuring look. "All right. But I haven't forgotten about those scones you promised earlier."

  He scoffed. "After that, I think we both need something stronger than a scone."

  3

  The Job

  Hank and I hesitated at the big wooden bakery door. Part of me wanted to hang on to our time alone together, just a little longer. Even if the day had involved my failed attempts at magic and seeing way more of Francis and Rhonda than I'd ever hoped to—just spending it with him meant it'd been a good one.

  He let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose we'd better head in."

  I nodded. "I suppose."

  He gave me a tight smile, his eyes sparkling.

  He pulled open the door and held it for me. We stepped inside onto the landing, and went down the marble steps to the floor. I inhaled the scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and baking bread. I loved this place. Even with the forty-foot ceilings and white stucco walls, it felt homey and cozy.

  Stone bread ovens lined the walls, alongside teal shelves stacked with copper cookware. Arched windows the size of large doors spanned the room at the second story level, letting in bright, cheery light, and long tables topped with butcher block stretched the length of the room all the way to the walk-in fireplace that took up nearly half a wall.

  No one noticed our entrance in all the hustle and bustle. We found my fire, Iggy, lounging in his oven, lazily munching on his favorite linden logs.

  "Hey, Iggy."

  He gave me a nod, not bothering to pull the log from his mouth.

  "Did I miss anything?"

  He rolled his eyes, and I chuckled in response. "It's been that exciting, huh?"

  He sighed and moved closer to the oven opening. He looked around and lowered his deep, drawling voice. "The other fires got into a thrilling discussion of the perfect heat level for baking bread, which divided the group between those who thought leaner breads needed a cooler oven, while the other camp thought hotter."