The Librarian’s Vampire Assistant, Book 4

by Pamfiloff, Mimi Jean

  She stares down at the concrete floor. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”

  I loved Lula like a sister—in a very non-creepy, non-incestual way—but this is the final straw. “Never. But at least you can attempt to make things right.”

  She slides from the bed and slinks past me. “For what it’s worth, I am really, really sorry, Michael. And just remember, I even made out with Nice to buy you more time.”

  “Considering that my librarian is dead, you would have to make out with him every day for the rest of your existence to come anywhere near the agony I am enduring at the moment.” Even then, I am not so sure it would measure up.

  “I’ll find Stella, Michael. I promise.”

  I watch her leave, feeling more enraged and at a loss than ever. Lula robbed me of five precious years with Miriam. Yes, I know that things could have ended just where they are now, but I would like to think otherwise. At the very least, it would have saved Miriam and me years of suffering. Me without her. Miriam having to endure Nice’s threats and extravagant ways. Today, I have lost the love of my life, my daughter, and my best friend. I cannot take any more. I am done.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Two days later, I am back at the place where it all began: Miriam’s library. I have decided she will be buried here in Phoenix next to her parents, so her remains are en route. As I said, I cannot stand any of this, so I decided I won’t. What’s the point? It has become abundantly clear to me that I am incapable of protecting what is mine or ruling or even making sound decisions.

  Starting today, that all changes.

  Though I vowed never to think of, speak of, share, or use the method again, I did what I had to. Facing an eternity of service to my people without Miriam in my life has left me no other choice. Knowing that I am worthless as a father, partner, and assistant librarian has left me no other choice. Therefore, duty prevailed and forced me to take the most pragmatic route. I have shut off all emotions, locking them tightly away inside a mental compartment, just as Clive taught me during the Great War when I was called on to do the toughest job of any soldier: assassin. People believe I was simply born to go out alone at night and dust enemy covens or kill anyone in our way. They think that after the war, when I was used to take out rogue vampires who refused to heel, even the ones who looked like children but were always the most ruthless towards humans, that I enjoyed it.

  Wrong. I had a secret weapon.

  Guess Clive was good for something after all. Because the ancient technique works like a charm. No joy. No guilt. No sorrow. To me it feels as though the last five years never happened. I never met Miriam, I never fell in love, nor do I care. Only now, I have made sure that door stays shut forever.

  How did it reopen to begin with? I listened to Clive’s warning: “If you go too far, you won’t be able to bring yourself back. Always leave a crack in the door—some memory or feeling you can pull on to find your way back to your emotions. Otherwise, you will lose them forever.” That was where I went wrong the first time. There was always a little “crack,” and it allowed the memories of my violent deeds to torment me. It also permitted me to push the door wide open when I met Miriam.

  Never again. Because duty calls. If we find Stella, I cannot protect her or teach her to protect herself if I am weighed down with the useless feelings that got her mother killed. And I certainly cannot be the king my societies need while crying in my Cheerios over the loss of a human I never should have loved to begin with.

  Profession #10: Vampire king. For real this time.

  As for Miriam’s estate, I will sell her home, and the items in her massive family collection, including her personal library, will go to a museum. Her museum.

  Before she was taken by Nice, she told me it was her dream to open a museum in order to share her legacy with the world. So, over the past four years, I bought the land just a few blocks from her library, consulted with architects, and hired a construction company. It was to be a surprise for her return. A place for her priceless historical items and cultural memorabilia—first editions of Jane Austen, a parchment from Shakespeare, a collection of studio tracks from The Beatles, just to name a few. There are millions of dollars of rare books, too, in addition to her family’s private collection and the contents of the library. I will sell the home, put the funds in the Miriam Murphy Memorial Trust, and appoint someone to run things.

  Miriam would be proud to see the plans for her family’s legacy. Not that I care. Not anymore. I am incapable.

  As proof, she will be buried quietly tomorrow, but I will pack up my belongings at my apartment here and return to Cincinnati tonight. I will rule from there as my army continues the hunt for Stella and Nice.

  First, however, I have a few things to gather from Miriam’s office—a photo of her parents, her collection of dirty romances in her desk, and some other personal odds and ends. The new head librarian will need the space. Yes, I am also here to post a sign in the window with my office’s number: Librarian Wanted.

  The library should reopen immediately, run by someone who loves books and sharing as much as she did. Again, not that I care, but she would have. And if vampires are anything, we are loyal to our families. Miriam was the mother of my child, and that gives her a place of honor.

  I unlock the front door and enter, noting the faint scent of charred books. Will have to send someone to clean up. I turn on the lights and put up my sign in the window. I should say goodbye to this place, but I feel no sentiments toward it. I feel nothing.

  That is not to say I don’t want to tear Nice into a million pieces, but it is a matter of principle, not emotions. He took something from me. I cannot allow that to go unpunished.

  I hear the door open and realize I forgot to lock it. “We’re closed!” I call out.

  “Oh, I was just walking by and saw the lights on. I wanted to see if my copy of Fanged Love, Book Four came in yet and to return this.”

  I come around the tall bookshelves. It’s the brunette lady from last week. “I am sorry. A family emergency in Ohio tore me away, but I’m afraid I must return today. I only came back to take care of a bit of paperwork. As soon as we find a new librarian, we’ll reopen.”

  “Oh, I hope everything’s okay.” She sets her returned book on the counter, and I look at the thing. It’s something about yoga, and the corners are all dirty. Disgraceful.

  “No offense,” she says, “I mean, you’re hot and all, but think you could find someone who doesn’t look grossed out every time they have to touch a library book?”

  “I have an aversion to germs.” It’s actually an aversion to sharing. I’m a vampire. I own, I take, and I defend what’s mine. Anyone touches my personal books and they die! “Rest assured, however, I will find someone who feels joy in his or her heart every time a library book is checked out, brought home, and contaminated by the unwashed hands of yet another human too cheap to purchase their own books.”

  “Wow. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  Try planet. Or century. My life is literally on the wrong side of everything.

  She adds, “Hey, so any chance Miriam is coming back? She left so suddenly and I never got to say goodbye.”

  She is dead. I am, too. I force a smile on my lips. “I have not heard from her lately, but I will give her your regards.”

  “Thanks, Michael. And don’t forget about our reading group.”

  I already have. “Have a good day.” I turn and head for the back. Almost to Miriam’s office when I hear the door again.

  Dammit. I still forgot to lock it.

  “Hello? Michael? Hello!” It sounds like Lula.

  Why the devil is she here? Lula is the last person I wish to see—not that I am angry with her. I feel no anger. But out of principle, I should have dusted her. I did not because she is family and I struggle with ending her life simply because she makes poor choices, similar to the village idiot. Also, there have been times that she’s saved my life. None of those instances make
up for what she’s done, but they buy my mercy. Just as long as I never have to see her again. Which she just now ruined.

  I walk back out to the lobby area, speaking before I can see her. “Lula, I feel it is best you leave before I remove your disloyal head from your disloyal body. I do not wish to harm you, but anything I once felt for you is over…” My voice trails off as I come around the corner of the massive bookshelves and see Lula standing in jeans and a grubby pink T-shirt. Attached to her hand is a little girl with dirty clothes, a tearstained face, and ratty long blonde hair. Her eyes are exactly like Miriam’s—big and brown and full of life. Her lips are exactly like mine. She is so small and skinny, she reminds me of a tiny ship rat that’s been living off of scraps.

  Stella. It is her. Unlike with Hope, I see myself in her—the way she stands there watching and observing. There is a quiet intelligence in her brown eyes I recognize from Miriam. Then the room fills with her scent. Sweet and fragrant, just like her mother. Exactly like her mother, but with a hint of something else. Vampire. Me.

  The two of us stare at each other with an undeniable recognition, but when I try to feel something, I cannot. Nothing more than my loyalty, which tells me she is my child, and I will protect her, care for her, and always place her before my own needs. But still, I feel nothing. Not even if I wish to. Her mother’s death has shut that door forever.

  All for the best. Because Stella will have the best part of me, the one that will teach her to fight and vanquish her enemies. I will teach her to shut off her emotions, just as I have. Useless things anyway.

  I look at Lula, whose eyes are filled with tears and remorse. Don’t care. “How did you find her?”

  “That doesn’t matter. I just wanted to deliver her to you safely.” Lula shrugs. “We ran into a little trouble sneaking across the border, but she’s okay.”

  “Stella was in Mexico?”

  “Canada. It was a moose incident. Then the car I stole broke down, so we hitchhiked with some chickens, which is why we smell funny. Anyway, I just wanted to say that you won’t ever see me again after today. I know what I did was wrong and twisted, even for a vampire. But love makes people do crazy things, Michael, and I will spend eternity regretting my decision.”

  And…still not caring. I walk toward them and brush my hand over the girl’s matted hair. “Come with me, Stella. I will get you fed and cleaned up.”

  “Where’s Mommy?” she asks.

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Nice, that very un-nice vampire, killed her because your auntie here thought she could take something that didn’t belong to her. Now it is you and me.”

  “Mommy’s dead?” Stella’s eyes go wide with shock and her lower lip quivers.

  I see now how much smaller Stella is than Hope. Five is a different number.

  “Michael, what the hell’s the matter with you?” Lula protests. “You can’t say that to her.”

  “It is the truth, something you know nothing about.” I grab Stella’s hand and turn away from Lula. “I think it best you take your leave. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  “Michael?” Lula whimpers her words. “What happened to you?”

  I drop Stella’s hand and rush to Lula. In the blink of an eye, I have her by the throat and press her to the wall. I am twice her age and twice as fast.

  “I took action and did what I had to,” I snarl. “Now go, or I will dust you.”

  Lula holds up her palms. “I’ll go. I’ll go. Just promise me you’ll look after her. She’s special, Michael. I mean it.”

  “I promise you,” I growl, “that whatever she gets from me will be far better than what you gave her: a dead mother. Now leave, traitor!”

  “Going. Going.” Lula nods several times, and I release her. The moment I do, she bolts from the library in a blur.

  “Now. Isn’t that better?” I look at my daughter and offer a sadistic smile. I like being this way. No worries or cares in the world. There’s just me, the rules, and my power to enforce them.

  “Where is Mommy?” Stella sniffles, gazing up with fearful eyes.

  “Like I said, your mother is gone. I am here to care for you, but do not fret. I am the king, which makes you a princess who will have everything she needs—weapons, leather pants, an army of ruthless bloodsucking vampires at your disposal to annihilate your enemies…”

  She drops to the floor and sobs.

  “Such tricks of the heart will not work on me. I care not for tears.”

  “I hate you,” she sobs. “I hate you. I want Mommy.”

  “I can show her to you if you like.” She is in a box. Blue and rotting. But I say there is nothing better than a dose of cold, hard reality to set one’s mind straight.

  I slide my cell from my black slacks. That is right, slacks. I will never wear jeans, cotton blends, or ridiculous tennis shoes again. I am king. From now on, I do what I want.

  I call the funeral home, and the owner, one of us, answers almost immediately.

  “It’s Vanderhorst. Where is my shipment?” I ask.

  “Oh, Mr. Vanderhorst, how lovely to hear from you. We were just about to call. There’s been a little mix-up, and the shipment has been lost.”

  Of course. This is why I am a proponent of doing things myself when I want them done right. “I will return to Cincinnati tonight. I suggest you find it, or I will execute you, your family and anyone you’ve ever looked at.” I end the call and glance down at the crying heap on the floor. “There, you see, child, that is how you deal with incompetence. I will teach you everything.”

  She looks up from the floor, snot flowing from her nose. “Vampires are scary. I don’t wanna be like you.”

  “Your loss.” I shrug. “Come now. We must lock up. I have packing to do.”

  She does not obey.

  “Come, I said, or you will be left here to starve. Makes no difference to me.” But do I truly mean that? I know I am supposed to protect her, but if she disappeared tomorrow, would it matter? No. “I am king now, Stella. I am to be obeyed at all times, so I will give you one last chance to do as I’ve asked.”

  She slowly picks herself up off the floor, but keeps her eyes downcast.

  “Very good. Now go over there and pick out a book.” I point to the children’s section. “And choose wisely. It will be the only thing of your mother I will allow you to keep.”

  I head to the back office, noting how easy parenting is this second time around. It is proof that I was too kind, too caring, and it made me weak.

  Never again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  That evening, my plane arrives—a perk of being king—to the private airport and waits to take us back to Cincinnati, where I have summoned Gretta to meet us. Despite her protests, I believe she will be a suitable nanny for Stella as long as she raises her per my instructions and according to vampire tradition.

  None of this weak, egalitarian bullcrap for my daughter. She will be taught to think for herself, trust no one, and show no mercy. I will teach her to fight and kill, and perhaps someday, when I am ready to retire, she will rule in my place. Of course, this means making her into a full vampire at some point, after she’s proven she has what it takes.

  Packing up the last of my belongings, some of the rare books I brought from my home in Cincinnati, I summoned Jiffy and instructed him to stay awake and alert me of any issues in the territory until I can find a more suitable society leader. From now on, I only want vampires who are ruthless, uncaring, and principled. I sacrificed too much to allow so much filthy emotion to corrupt our system. That was Clive’s downfall. He permitted his two-thousand-year-old heart to bleed with guilt and remorse.

  One of the guards knocks on the front door. I know it’s him because I can smell him. It is amazing how much more heightened my vampire senses are now that my mind is free of all those useless feelings.

  “Come!” I call out.

  The man appears. He is six five, muscled, and no match for me. None of them are. I am Micha
el Vanderhorst, a second-generation vampire. Son of the ruthless traitor Cluentius Boethius, and now I am the most deadly vampire in the world.

  “Sir, I came to—”

  “The boxes are in the other room. See that they are loaded and brought to the plane. We will be there shortly. And be sure my caca azul is waiting out front.”

  “Sir?”

  “The little blue car. Be sure it is waiting for me out front.”

  He gives me a look of complete confusion.

  Idiot. “Did you not get my message earlier?”

  “I did, sir, but I thought it was a joke.”

  I snarl with my eyes. “I do not joke. You have ten minutes, or I will remove your head.”

  “On it, sir.”

  “Be sure one of the SUVs is ready to follow me.”

  “Oh-okay…” He bolts from the room, and I hear frantic orders being barked outside.

  “Daddy?” Stella appears in the doorway. She is now clean and wearing a tiny suit. Yes, the proper attire of a vampire. “I’m hungry.”

  “There is bagged blood in the refrigerator. Help yourself, but make it quick. We’re leaving soon.”

  She stares with a tiny confused face.

  “Are you not half vampire?” I ask.

  “I eat chicken nuggets.”

  “I don’t have any chicken nuggets.” Do I look like McVanderhorst’s?

  “I like cereal with marshmallows.” Her tiny voice grates my nerves. Especially how she says cereal like see-wee-ol.

  “No time like the present to start embracing your true nature.”

  I note the fear in her eyes, and it displeases me. We will need to toughen her up. “It’s blood or nothing, Stella.”

  She disappears into the other room, where a TV is playing some ridiculous show she likes. Something with tiny singing animals.

  I definitely need her to spend time in Gretta’s basement with her old childhood toys… Yes, battle-axes will make an excellent toy for Stella.

  Forty minutes later, after driving the caca azul out to the desert and setting it ablaze—a glorious moment for me—Stella and I arrive to the private airport. We board the jet that is ironically the very same one she was conceived in almost five years ago. I would mention it, but I don’t really care.