by Elle Adams
“Apparently she’s interested in any rare and valuable books,” I said. “Same as usual. I told her it was screaming at everyone, and she cleared off.”
Aunt Candace grabbed a piece of toast, a calculating expression on her face. “Does she want to take it off our hands?”
“No,” said Aunt Adelaide, me, and Estelle at the same time.
“Don’t you even think about it, Candace.” Aunt Adelaide picked up the translator spell. “I’m going to fix this.”
“I take it this isn’t a good time to try it on my dad’s journal?” I turned in my seat to face her in the doorway.
Aunt Adelaide’s expression softened. “When it’s ready, I’ll let you know.”
That would have to do for now. “At least my dad’s journal has never started screaming or biting anyone.”
“You aren’t wrong,” said Estelle. “Aunt Candace, did you leave the book locked in the classroom overnight?”
“Where else would it be?” She picked up another piece of toast and walked out behind her sister, leaving Estelle and me alone.
“How is it that none of us can open book?” I asked. “I thought since it’s our property, it'd at least work for one of us.”
“You’d be surprised,” said Estelle. “There are plenty of books we’ve purchased, or our grandmother has, without instructions as to how to open them. If someone wants to borrow them, there’s usually extensive questioning involved, but I assume that one went through without any trouble.”
No trouble… except for the fact that the guy who’d borrowed it was dead, and nobody could remember loaning it to him. Not even Sylvester—though he dealt with late fees, not loans, and he claimed most of his knowledge lay inside the Forbidden Room. Let’s face it, though— everything about that book screamed trouble.
“It’s almost opening time.” Estelle got to her feet. “I’ll be at the front desk.”
“Right behind you.” I drained the rest of my coffee and followed her into the main part of the library. There, we found Aunt Adelaide beside the front desk, talking to Blair Wilkes.
“Hey,” I said. “Back for more?”
The sound of the book yelling came from behind the shelves. “Oh, no,” said Aunt Adelaide. “The spell wore off again. You can help Blair, can’t you, Rory?”
“Sure.” I turned to Blair. “As you might have gathered, we’ve made zero progress on the screaming book. Anyway, did you have the chance to speak to the other guests at the hotel yesterday?”
“I did,” she said. “Mr Dreyer claimed to have never met any of the other guests before, including Mr Spencer. I tried to get him onto the subject of the book by asking why he was in town, but he kept evading my questions. But he did mention something odd.”
“Oh?” I lowered my voice when the screaming came to an abrupt stop.
Blair glanced over her shoulder. “He said he was up late last night and heard a weird noise outside. He looked out of his window and saw a figure standing there looking up at the hotel. When he saw him looking, the guy disappeared fast. According to Mr Dreyer, it must have been a vampire.”
A vampire. My heartbeat quickened. “Did he recognise who the vampire was? Or give a description?”
“Not a useful one,” said Blair. “He described him as a tall man dressed in dark clothing. He’s not from around here, so he wouldn’t know any of the local vampires on sight. He wasn’t lying, for what it’s worth.”
That meant he wouldn’t know if the vampire was from Ivory Beach or not. Even I hadn’t met many of the locals, Evangeline being an obvious exception.
“Your lie-sensing power didn’t go off, then?” I asked.
“No, it didn’t,” she said. “As for Mr Blake, he was out all day. I didn’t see him. I think he’s avoiding the hotel, though he might have been called back to the police for questioning again.”
I hadn’t heard about Edwin calling people back in, so I’d assumed he’d concluded Mr Spencer’s death was a tragic accident and nothing more. As for Mr Dreyer’s claims, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Vampires wandered around at night, after all. On the other hand, there was little reason one might wander over to the hotel in the middle of the night and stare through the guests’ windows. That didn’t strike me as a normal thing to do, but was anything the vampires did remotely normal?
“Did Mr Dreyer tell anyone else what he saw?” I asked.
“He mentioned it at breakfast,” she said. “But Mr Blake told him he was imagining it, and pretty much ordered him to stop scaring the other guests. I asked if he had a particular reason to be concerned, but he didn’t answer. I haven’t seen him since.”
Had Mr Blake taken off because he had something to hide? Maybe I was reading too much into it, but after what I’d heard about Mr Blake having the same apparent nomadic lifestyle as Mr Spencer, it cemented my certainty that the two had been more than buddies who ran into one another occasionally.
“Do the other guests know about your ability?” Maybe Mr Blake knew, and that’s why he’d disappeared—to avoid Blair asking him any questions where he’d have to lie.
“I guess they might have heard Nathan and me talking,” she said. “What, you think Mr Blake knew more than he let on? He didn’t say where he was going today, but I can talk to him again later if there’s anything more you want me to find out.”
“Did he come to town alone, then?” I asked.
“He did,” she said. “He hasn’t told us any personal details about his life. Said he worked as a freelancer, and as far as I know, that’s the truth.”
“Freelancer covers a lot of things,” I said. “Mr Spencer has a similar history. My aunts ran a background check, and it sounds like both of them moved around frequently without settling in one place.”
“Both of them did?” she said. “Did they travel together?”
“It doesn’t sound like it,” I said, “but they did both end up in Ivory Beach at the same time. Doing, what, though, I have no idea.”
Her lips pursed. “I can think of one explanation. Nathan suggested it’s possible he’s a paranormal hunter.”
“Hunter?” I echoed. “Hunting what, exactly?”
“Paranormal hunters are responsible for tracking down paranormals who break the rules,” she explained. “Some work for the magical authorities, but most hunters belong to a regional collective. Nathan’s family runs one branch in the northwest of England, but there are branches all around the country. If he’s a freelancer, it makes sense for him not to settle down. Freelancers go where the work is.”
“What exactly does a paranormal hunter do?” I asked. “I mean, can they use magic?”
“Generally, no,” she said. “Paranormal hunters are usually born into families with a little magic but not enough that they can train as witches or wizards. That, or they’re related to other hunters and get into it that way. Anyway, Nathan used to work for them, but he got fed up with the whole lifestyle. Some hunters aren’t very nice to paranormals.”
“So the two of them might have been hunting someone here?” Ivory Beach wasn’t exactly a haven for paranormal criminals, but one of them had hidden in our library before the holidays. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that both men had been on the same mission when they'd come here. Perhaps they’d needed the library’s book for said mission, but if they didn’t have magical talents of their own, they shouldn’t have had any more luck at opening it than the rest of us did.
“Don’t take my word for it,” she said. “It’s just a guess, but Nathan’s good at recognising other hunters. Granted, I’ve never met one who dressed like a Death Eater before. Most of them dress like they’re on a hiking trip.”
I snorted. “I guess with those cloaks, they stand a better chance of blending in at this time of year.”
“I can ask Nathan to speak to Mr Blake,” she added. “He’s more likely to talk to Nathan than to me, if he really is a hunter.”
“Sure,” I said. “Thanks for speaking to the oth
ers. I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” she said.
I watched Blair leave the library, my thoughts spinning. If Mr Spencer had been a paranormal hunter, had he been hunting someone when he’d died? Mr Blake, too? Blair hadn’t said what types of paranormals they hunted, but Mr Blake’s reaction to Mr Dreyer’s claim that he’d seen a vampire made more sense if he wanted to keep their mission a secret.
The image of Mortimer Vale appeared in my mind’s eye, sending a violent shiver down my spine. Surely Evangeline would know if his fellow vampires were in town, and she’d send her own people to deal with it. I couldn’t picture the leader of the vampires stepping back and letting humans do all the work, even people whose job was to hunt paranormal criminals.
Besides, Mr Dreyer’s sighting outside the window didn’t prove anything. For all we knew, the vampire had just been a curious local. Evangeline might even have sent one of her people to spy on the hotel’s guests to make sure they behaved themselves. The only way to know for sure would be to talk to Evangeline herself, but she might not take kindly to me interrogating her.
The library door opened, and I scrambled to grab my wand. Then I let my hand drop, relief flooding me. It was only Edwin, flanked by his two troll guards. Despite their brutish appearances, one of them gave me a friendly wave and the other said, “Hey, Rory.”
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“Ah, Rory,” said Edwin. “I’m told you have the book that Mr Spencer had in his possession shortly before he died.”
“We do,” I said. “That is—my aunt’s dealing with it at the moment.”
“I heard,” he said. “There are rumours all over town. Is that the book which has been screaming and scaring off your patrons?”
Oops. In fairness, it was sort of hard not to hear the book screaming if you’d stepped into the library at any point in the last couple of days.
“I don’t know if my aunts told you, but the book is giving us a bit of trouble,” I said. “It has a sentience spell on it, but we haven’t figured out how to get it to tell us if it knows more about Mr Spencer’s death.”
The elf blinked. “You’re saying your family doesn’t know how to open their own books?”
Well, when he put it like that… “I wasn’t here when it was loaned out, so I can’t really comment. Anyway, do you think the book might be linked to his death?”
“You said he mentioned it on the phone when he called you,” said Edwin.
“He did, but as I said, we haven’t been able to get any more information from the book itself,” I said. “Have you spoken to Mr Blake, the other guest at the hotel? He and Mr Spencer knew one another, according to another guest came to visit the library. When I was giving her the tour, she mentioned that the two of them were both freelancers in the same field.”
His expression didn’t change. “It’s not so unusual for two people to want to get away to the sea for the holidays.”
“Dressed in hooded cloaks which make them look like Death Eaters?” I raised an eyebrow.
Judging by his puzzled expression, he didn’t get the reference. “It’s not my place to judge. I’ve questioned all the guests, and so far, the one puzzling element remains that book.”
“That’s why I wondered if you’d spoken to Mr Blake,” I said. “I’m sure the book itself knows more than it’s letting on, too.” I figured that perhaps if he knew we had good reason to be involved, he’d be more open to sharing information with me. After all, the book did know something about Mr Spencer’s death. I was sure of it.
“The book?” he said. “Are you saying it might have communicated with the victim before his death?” His tone dripped with scepticism. The elf policeman might deal with more than his average share of strangeness, but it seemed a sentient book was a step too far.
“It’s under a sentience spell, so maybe. That is, if he knew how to get it to stop screaming,” I said. “Also, I was just talking to Blair—she’s staying at the hotel, too—and she said one of the guests spotted a vampire outside the window last night.”
“A vampire?” he said. “Who, exactly?”
I shook my head. “No clue. The guest’s from out of town, so he wouldn’t know any of Evangeline’s people on sight, but he said the man moved as fast as a vampire would.”
His brows climbed into his hairline. “Did this so-called vampire act suspicious in any way?”
“Other than peering through windows?” I said. “Uh, have you heard from Mortimer Vale lately?”
“Heard from him?” he echoed. “He’s still in jail, and he seems utterly disinterested in the outside world. He knows he’s in there for life, after all.”
“I was just wondering, since one of the guests saw a vampire, and his two friends were never caught…”
“Rory,” he said. His tone wasn’t unkind. “I’ve been in some tough situations in my time as head of the police here, and I understand where your fear is coming from. But you’re going to have to learn to work through it.”
Shame shot through me like a bolt of lightning. He thought I was letting my fear of vampires cloud my judgement, and perhaps I was, but I didn’t see why anyone would lie about seeing a strange vampire hanging around the hotel. Their alarming speed made them difficult to mistake for an ordinary person, too.
“I am,” I told him. “That’s not what I meant. I just thought you might want to know what Blair told me.”
“Well, tell your aunt to find me if she manages to get any more information from that book,” he said. “If the book does count as a witness, we’ll have to take it in.”
“Believe me, you might not like that,” I warned. “Unless you have soundproofed cells, that is. I’ll let you know if we find anything.”
“Thank you, Rory.”
I watched him leave, followed by his troll guards, and wished I could make him understand it wasn’t my fear of vampires alone that made me suspicious of their involvement. In fairness, it wasn’t hard to see why he’d come to that conclusion. I’d be more inclined to believe I was acting out of my fear of vampires than that there was a rogue in town, considering Mr Dreyer hadn’t reported the sighting to the police himself.
Annoyance prickled at me, more directed at my own fear than anything else. I wasn’t the same person I’d been when I’d first run into Mortimer Vale, and besides, whether they were involved with Mr Spencer’s death involved or not, it was about time I took my relationship with the vampires into my own hands.
Once I was free for my lunch hour, I left the library and walked into the town square, angling towards the road that led uphill to the vampires’ home. I made it all the way to the church before second thoughts started to kick in. Maybe I’d been a little hasty. Maybe… oh, no.
Evangeline stood outside the doors, for all the world like she’d been waiting for me the whole time. She couldn’t have read my mind from all the way over in the library, but she did seem to have an unnerving instinct for figuring me out. Unless she’d heard about the vampire Mr Dreyer had seen at the hotel through another source, that is.
I halted a few feet away from her. “Hello, Evangeline.”
“Hello, Aurora,” she said. “Is there a reason you wanted to speak to me?
Well, I let my irritation at Edwin thinking I was being paranoid and not rational convince me to come here to talk to you, and now I’m having second thoughts.
I kept my attention on the pavement, trying not to let those thoughts slip into the forefront of my mind where she could read them. Instead, I said, “You tell me.”
She chuckled. “You’re getting bolder. I know you’re looking for information, and I assumed curiosity would lead you to ask me. I’m aware of your friend Blair and her talent for getting to the truth.”
Great. How’d she even found that out? She must have read it from someone's mind, though I didn’t have the impression Blair shared that information with everyone she met. Her gleaming eyes invited me to step closer, but I didn’t move. Keeping my
distance from her made little difference considering her ability to move at an inhuman speed, but it made me feel more at ease.
“Then you must also know that there’s no information I can’t get from anyone, via her talent,” I said. “She knows if anyone is lying.”
“Ah, but that’s not the same as having access to someone’s inmost thoughts,” she said. “Though I confess, I don’t need to be a mind-reader to access certain information. I’ve lived in this town a long time, Rory, and I’ve seen many people come and go. You should know that Mr Spencer was married once, and his ex-wife still lives here in Ivory Beach.”
Whatever I’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that. “Really? He was married?”
“Why do you humans insist on repeating my words back to me?”
“Because we don’t get to hear people’s thoughts before they speak,” I said. “Did she even know he was in town?”
“Considering she was the last person whose number he dialled before he called the library?” she said. “Yes, she did.”
“How did you—” I didn’t need to ask. She’d read it from someone’s mind. Frederick’s, maybe, since he was the one who’d picked up Mr Spencer’s phone after his death.
Argh. Why does she have to be like this? Never mind my rational fear of vampires—at this rate, they were going to exasperate me into an early grave without any fangs being involved.
“Evangeline?” said a voice from beside my shoulder. “Why are you talking to Rory?”
Xavier. How long had he been standing there? He was as stealthy as any vampire, that was for sure.
“Why, nothing,” said Evangeline. “Such accusations, Reaper. I’ll be going now.”
Between one blink and the next, she’d vanished, only the faint movement of the church door closing betraying that she’d been here at all. So much for asking if she knew if there were any rogues in town.
“Rory?” said Xavier. “Did you come here to talk to her?”
“Yes,” I said shortly. “And I think we ought to move away from her door because she can hear every word we say.”
