by Elle Adams
9
I came back to my senses when the hotel doors opened, the guests spilling out to stare and gasp at the scene, while passers-by from the nearby streets hurried over to take a look.
“You again?” said Frederick. “Aurora—don’t tell me he called your library, too.”
“I was with the Reaper when he ran here,” I said, still breathless from my sprint across town. “How—how did he die?”
“Looks like he jumped,” someone said.
All eyes went to the window, three floors up, which was wide open, swaying in the cold breeze coming off the seafront.
“Damn,” Frederick murmured. “Everyone—step away, now. I’m going to call the police.”
I edged closer to Xavier, only too keen to leave the body and head down the side street alongside the clock tower.
“Weird for a vampire,” I muttered to Xavier. “I thought they only ever bit their victims.”
Then again, they didn’t typically commit murder in broad daylight, either. Now it’d happened twice in the same place.
“I don’t think anything is off-limits when it comes to vampires,” he said quietly.
No kidding. Now both people who might know the truth about Mr Spencer’s death were dead.
Blair detached herself from the crowd and approached me. “I don’t know if it matters now,” she said in a low voice, “but Nathan did have the chance to talk to Mr Blake this morning. He asked if he was a vampire hunter.”
“We got it confirmed,” I said, my voice hollow. “From his ex-wife. Both he and Mr Spencer used to be vampire hunters. Rivals, she said.”
Nathan stepped up to Blair’s side. “He wasn’t an active hunter,” he said. “He quit freelancing years ago. He clammed up when he realised I was grilling him for information.”
“Thanks anyway,” I said. “We… we were actually on our way here to speak to him, but it looks like someone else got here first.”
Both he and Mr Spencer might have quit hunting vampires, but how had they ended up picking the same holiday destination and then been killed? Two dead ex-vampire hunters in the space of a week couldn’t be an accident however you looked at it.
“Did you say his ex-wife?” asked Blair. “I didn’t know he was married.”
“Neither did I until today,” I said. “They divorced five years ago, and she went back to using her maiden name afterwards. She works in the town’s antique shop.”
I debated telling her about Evangeline, but she and Nathan had had enough to deal with without meeting the terrifying leader of the vampires. I wouldn’t blame them if they never wanted to come back to Ivory Beach again.
“Hey…” Blair peered up at Mr Blake’s window. “He was on the third floor? Why were you up there, then?”
I turned to see who she addressed and found myself face to face with Mr Dreyer, the relic hunter. He blanched. “Me?”
“Yes,” said Blair. “When Nathan and I were out earlier, I looked up and saw you in his room through the window. You’re staying on the first floor, same as us. I know you are.”
“What were you doing in Mr Blake’s room?” asked Nathan.
He opened and closed his mouth. “Why… you must have been mistaken.”
Blair twitched. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“Better to talk to me than to the police,” said Blair. “Tell me the truth. Why were you in his room?”
His shoulders slumped. “He kept dropping hints the other day about looking in town for something valuable, so I wanted to see if he had it in his room.”
“Really,” said Nathan, his voice flat. “Are you sure you didn’t push him out the window when his back was turned?”
“No,” he insisted. “I had a look around and then left. That’s all. I swear.”
Blair shook her head. “Best of luck trying that one on the police.”
Mr Dreyer paled. “I’m not… I didn’t push him.”
I caught Blair’s eye and she shook her head a little. Did that mean he was telling the truth—or lying?
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.” Frederick nodded to Xavier and me. “Both of you.”
“Was he lying?” I whispered to Blair.
“No,” she returned. “But he’s no saint, that’s for sure.”
The relic hunter was the only possible suspect who wasn’t a vampire or connected to them, and he hadn’t specified what he’d been searching for in Mr Blake’s room.
“Reaper?” said Frederick. “You’re done here, yes?”
“I am.” Xavier stepped back, away from the crime scene. “I have to check in with my boss and let him know.”
I walked with him down the street. “You won’t tell him we planned to speak to Mr Blake ourselves?”
“Of course not,” he said. “The less he knows about this, the better.”
I had to agree with him there. But how was it possible to keep the Grim Reaper out of our business when people kept showing up dead?
“What’s wrong?” asked Cass, when I re-entered the library to find her staffing the desk. “Did you and the Reaper break up again? Joking, joking,” she added, as Estelle shot her a warning look.
“Cass, that really isn’t funny,” said Estelle. “Rory, what is it?”
“Mr Blake is dead.” I heaved out a breath. “I need to speak to Aunt Adelaide.”
“Here,” said my aunt, approaching with an armful of books. “Is the Reaper back in town?”
“Funny, I thought she’d be telling everyone.” Cass shut her mouth when I glared at her.
“Xavier and I talked to Mr Spencer’s ex-wife and she told us that both he and Mr Blake were retired vampire hunters,” I explained. “We went to the hotel to question Mr Blake, but he was dead. I think someone pushed him out the window.”
The others quietened as I explained the day’s events. Even Cass stopped making snarky comments to listen to me.
“So you know the two of them were vampire hunters,” said Cass. “And now they’re both dead. Is it not obvious who killed them? Or rather, what killed them?”
“If a vampire is responsible, we have no clues as to their identity,” I pointed out. “Also, Mr Dreyer was seen snooping around in Mr Blake’s room earlier today. He claimed to have nothing to do with his death, but for all we know, he knows more than he’s letting on. It’s anyone’s guess at this point.”
“Both men were active vampire hunters?” Aunt Adelaide frowned. “Are you sure? Because they'd be required to disclose that information upon entering the town. It’s in our rules.”
“They were retired,” I said. “Not sure if that’d show up on any records or not, but Blair’s boyfriend is a former paranormal hunter and he talked to Mr Blake and confirmed it before his death.”
“Who is Blair?” said Cass.
“Blair’s another guest at the hotel,” I told her. “She came for a tour around the library the other day. Anyway, she’s talked to most of the suspects by now. Except for the ex-wife, but we only found out she existed this morning. She’s the one who told us that Mr Spencer used to be a vampire hunter.”
“None of the town’s vampires would be bothered by an ex-vampire hunter from outside the town visiting,” said Aunt Adelaide. “So if a vampire was responsible—”
“If?” Cass snorted. “You know those vampires are centuries old and have long memories, right? If it were me, and they killed one of my friends, I’d want revenge.”
Estelle raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to tell Evangeline that?”
I had an inkling I’d missed a couple of family arguments while I’d been questioning suspects and showing Blair around. “I’m not talking to her until I know for sure. One of the guests saw a vampire outside the window the other night as well, but they didn’t get a close enough look to be able to describe who it was.”
Aunt Adelaide’s lips pressed together. “Unless they gave an accurate description, it would be difficult to prove.”
“Y
eah, well, both of them are dead now,” said Cass. “Which is tragic and everything, but the vampires have had their revenge. We should let it go.”
“And if the book was involved?” I said. “What if the vampires are after the book, too?”
Cass made a sceptical noise. “Yeah, right. The book’s been in the library for years before the vampire hunters ever showed up.”
“Don’t forget Mr Spencer’s last phone call was to the library, and he mentioned the book,” I reminded her.
“Which proves what?” Cass said. “By all means, let Aunt Candace waste her time screwing around with that ridiculous book if it distracts her from taking notes on me to use in her stories. But don’t drag our family into any more drama.”
I frowned at her. “Aren’t you in the least bit worried that there’s a book here in the library none of us can read, which might be hiding clues about two murders?”
“No. There are a lot of books in here nobody can read.”
“But not involved in murder cases,” Estelle interjected. “I’m with Rory. This is still our business, and we have to at least prepare for the possibility of the police showing up here to question us as well.”
“They didn’t have much to say last time,” I said. “Poor Frederick is going to take the backlash, in all likelihood, but two ex-vampire hunters dying in mysterious accidents in the space of a week? Even the police will have to admit there’s something off there.”
“We will wait and see what Edwin says,” said Aunt Adelaide. “In the meantime, I notice there’s a number of returns that haven’t been dealt with. Cass, you start on those. Rory, can I have a word with you?”
As Cass picked up the box, grumbling, Aunt Adelaide beckoned me aside. “If you want me to give the translator spell a try on your dad’s journal, it’s back in working order.”
My heart gave a nervous flip. “Really?”
“If you’re sure,” she said.
I reached into my bag and handed her the journal. “I am. I’m just surprised it’s an option.”
“It’s a tremendously difficult spell,” she said. “It’s lucky it still works after Candace tried to use it to translate the title of that wretched book.”
“If the vampires are hunting for the journal, it can’t be impossible to read, right?” I said. “There wouldn’t be much value in its information if it was.”
“I suppose not,” she said. “But if you’re worried about that particular group of vampires, I doubt they’re involved in the recent murders. They’re far too ancient and clever to draw the attention of rogue vampire hunters. I’m more inclined to believe someone had a grudge against both men and targeted them when they were in the same place. If the book is involved, it’s tangential at best.”
“The relic hunter guy seemed pretty unscrupulous, whether he’s the killer or not,” I added. “He sneaked into Mr Blake’s room in broad daylight to have a nose around and see if he had any rare artefacts in his room. That’s not the act of an innocent man.”
“No, but he knows neither of the two men had the book at the time of their deaths,” said Aunt Adelaide. “Why not come to the library if that’s what he wanted to find?”
“Maybe he didn’t,” I said. “Unless… we never did have the chance to ask Mr Blake if he knew how to open the book.”
Cass loudly cleared her throat from beside the front desk. “Someone’s here.”
I turned around to find Xavier was back in the library, scythe and all. That must have been a quick meeting with the Grim Reaper.
“Well, well,” said Cass. “The Reaper really is back in town.”
“Hello, Cass,” said Xavier. “I’m here—”
“To see Rory?”
Aunt Adelaide stepped in. “Oh—hello, Reaper. I didn’t know you were back.”
“He’s here because he was called to collect the souls of the two victims,” I said, for Cass’s benefit. “That’s how I ended up at the murder scene.”
“Convenient,” said Cass, and Estelle elbowed her in the ribs.
“Nice to see you,” Estelle said to him.
“Likewise,” he said. “I wonder if I could trouble you for a peek at that book of yours?”
“I suppose Rory told you about it.” Aunt Adelaide glanced over her shoulder. “Candace seems to have taken it upon herself to crack the code. It’s giving her considerable trouble, but perhaps you’ll be able to get some sense out of it.”
“More than Rory,” said Cass, with a smirk.
“Cass!” Estelle said. “What is the matter with you today?”
“Oh, the usual,” said Cass. “You know most people don’t have the Reaper showing up on the doorstep on a weekly basis? We run into more dead bodies than the people who work in the mortuary.”
“Xavier hasn’t been here in weeks,” I pointed out.
“Oh, we know that.” Cass winced as Estelle stood on her foot. Hard.
“Cass, behave,” said Aunt Adelaide. “I’ll tell Candace. Estelle, can you deal with the returns? Make sure Cass does her fair share.”
“Sure,” said Estelle. “Sylvester?”
The owl swooped down. “What is it this time? I was napping.”
Feeling slightly guilty for skipping out on helping Estelle deal with the returns and Cass in a temper, I walked with Xavier back through the Reading Corner to wait for Aunt Candace.
“Sorry about them,” I said. “If you wanted to leave town because of my annoying family, I wouldn’t blame you at this point.”
He grinned. “No. Honestly, I’ve missed this.”
“Missed what? Cass being Cass, Sylvester being irritating, or books that bite fingers instead of answering questions?”
“You, of course.”
My throat clogged with all the words I wanted to say, but I could just imagine Aunt Candace preparing her notebook on the other side of the door. I cast my mind around for a change of subject. “So—do you have any Reaper tricks for opening that book without it screaming, biting, or turning itself inside-out and showing only blank pages?”
He frowned. “Can’t you contact the publisher or the author? Or the person who put the spell on the book to begin with?”
“You’d think so, but my grandmother wasn’t exactly meticulous at keeping track of details,” I said. “There are plenty of books in here which are one of a kind, so we have nothing to compare them to.”
“You think the killer might be after the book, then?”
“Maybe,” I said. “If both victims were killed by the same vampire, it wouldn’t have been hard for them to find out the book was here in the library after the first death. Besides, we’re losing business because of its screaming and temper tantrums.”
Xavier glanced at the closed door. “Is there any known link between that relic hunter and the two victims, then? Anything to suggest he might have been following them?”
“Pretty sure only the police know, if at all.” I shook my head. “If the book would just talk, then we’d know if we have any reason to worry about it.”
“Did Mr Spencer know how to handle it, then?” he asked.
“He knew its habit of screaming,” I said. “He also had it in his possession for months or years, though, so he must have found a way to keep it from screaming the place down. Unless he kept it in a locked room. But if vampires were hunting him, it wouldn’t exactly have helped him keep a low profile.”
“Do you think they were looking for the book?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. “I mean, why would he bring it back here, knowing they were hunting him? He might at least have warned us first.”
“Maybe that’s why he called you.”
Perhaps he did. But the vampires had got there first.
Aunt Candace opened the door. “The book is ready for you. Good luck, Reaper.”
I turned to Xavier. “Want to meet the screaming book?”
10
The book remained deceptively still and quiet when we entered the room. Xavie
r took the lead, leaning over the table to examine the book’s cover.
“Hello to you too,” the book said.
To give Xavier credit, he didn’t jump. “So are you sentient or under a spell?”
“What are you, then?” said the book. “Not a wizard.”
“Not quite.” He picked up the book and turned it over in his hands to look at the back cover.
“Put me down, you rude little—”
“Hey!” I said to the book.
“Oh, it’s you again.” The book let out a dramatic sigh. “Are you passing me among all your friends now?”
“Yes,” I said. “You should know Mr Blake was murdered today.”
“Am I supposed to care?”
“So you do know who he is?” said Xavier.
“Did I say so?”
“You ask a lot of questions for someone who’s meant to have answers.” Xavier flipped over the book again. “Is there a secret password to get in here?”
“What?” squawked the book.
“Wait, is there?” I said. “Is that the key?”
“There is no key,” said the book.
I wish Blair was here. Why hadn’t I thought to ask that question before? A secret password would explain the book’s refusal to share any information. If we found it, we might just have cracked the book’s secrets.
Xavier put the book down. “Two people were murdered who had contact with you in the last week. Both were former vampire hunters. Were you aware?”
“It’s not like I make a habit of talking to every human who picks me up and manhandles me,” said the book. “You, though. You’re not quite human. What are you?”
“I’m the Reaper,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“An angel of death?” said the book. “What does the angel of death want with me, I wonder?”
“I’d like you to cooperate with me and share what you know.” His tone was clear, his words precise.
“You think I’ll cooperate?” the book said in petulant tones. “The cheek of it. You accuse me of being involved in two murders and then expect me to open for you. You won’t take my soul, angel of death.”
