Author: Molly Harper

“You asked to see me?” she asked as I enjoyed her memory of the library board standing around her desk, demanding to know how she had lost control of the place so quickly. Before I could speak, Mrs. Stubblefield blurted out, “We were hoping you might come back to your position as director of juvenile services. There would be a decrease in pay, of course, and you would have to take on more evening and weekend hours. I would hope that you would take these inconveniences in stride and recognize this offer for the gesture that it is.”

In other words, the library board was telling her to give me my job back, but she wanted my tail tucked between my legs when I returned.

I smirked nastily. “I guess that budget issue cleared itself up, hmm?”

I knew it was mean, but I was sure I’d get a free pass on that one. Mrs. Stubblefield made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

I looked across the hall to the children’s department, a room where I had spent the better part of six years. If you’d asked me as I walked into the library that night whether I wanted my old job back, I probably would have said I’d jump at the chance. But it’s true what they say about going home again. Everything about the library seemed so foreign to me now, almost cold. I loved the kids, the patrons, but I didn’t belong at the library anymore. There was nothing for me there. Plus, I didn’t know whether I could handle rooms full of chattering children with my super hearing.

I smiled. “You know what? No, thanks. I’m doing pretty well. Good luck replacing me, though.”

“Jane, please be reasonable,” Mrs. Stubblefield begged.

“I am being reasonable. I’m not accepting your sad, hobbled excuse for a job offer. The only reason I came here tonight is that I need a signature here,” I said, pushing the form toward her.

Her eyes scanned the top of the form, with “Federal Bureau of Undead Affairs” in huge Arial font. Understanding flicked across her features, and she turned roughly the shade of wallpaper paste. The moth eyebrows shot to her hairline and fluttered there indefinitely. She stared at the canines I was allowing to edge over my bottom lip. My eyes traced the slightly varicose veins along her throat, her collarbone.

I slid a blood-red ink pen across the table for her. “Oh, wait, it says it has to be signed in black. Silly me, what was I thinking?” I gave her a wide smile. “Red just seems to be my favorite color lately.”

Now fidgeting with the gold cross she wore at her throat, Mrs. Stubblefield signed the paper. She carefully avoided touching any part of the paper where she’d seen my hands.

“Thank you.” I let a low, hungry note creep into my voice as I said, “It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Stubblefield. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I think I may have to come by more often.”

I stood, refrained from rolling my eyes when Mrs. Stubblefield flinched, and stuck my book on the correct shelf. I reached the door of the special collections room and turned back to my former boss.

“By the way, I’ve always wanted to tell you. Eyebrows. There should be two.”

Mrs. Stubblefield gasped in indignation as I swaggered out. I made a point to be pleasant to Posey as I checked out several volumes on remedial gardening and creating healthy boundaries in adult relationships. (My hope sprang eternal.) And yes, an Aretha Franklin chorus was ringing in my head as I left the building.

“R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me,” I hummed. Gabriel was perched on the Veterans Memorial Fountain across the street, dragging his fingers through the burbling water.

“How did you know I would be here?” I asked when I reached him.

“I made a lucky guess,” he said. He nodded toward the library. “What were you doing?”

“Having a truly excellent moment in my life,” I said, grinning shamelessly. “One of the best ever, to be honest, before and after you came along.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” he said.

“Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

“How are you?” he asked. He pushed my shirt aside and traced his fingertips along the shiny edges of the scar over my collarbone. “Wood wounds take longer to heal. It will be gone in a few days.”

“I kind of like it,” I said, not bothering to move his hand away. “My very first war wound.”

“So, how are you?” he asked again.

“Recovering,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Zeb’s still a little weirded out. He watched me kill somebody, which was a horrible new experience. Plus, he had semisexual feelings when he watched me wrestle with Missy. I don’t know which was more disturbing for him.

“In another milestone in my emotional development, I sent Jolene a bridal planner specifically written for were-brides,” I said, adding flatly, “and in exchange, Jolene sent me a catalog of bridesmaid hair accessories.”

“I’m very proud of you,” Gabriel told me. “And your parents?”

“Not very proud of me right now,” I said. “And my sister is suing me.”

“I could still talk to them for you,” he offered.

“What would you possibly say? ‘Sorry I bit your daughter?’ They’re just going to have to work it out at their own speed,” I said. “I think Daddy’s going to be OK. In fact, I think he’s kind of leaning toward it being cool to have a vampire daughter. He called yesterday, mentioned that he’d like to talk to you.”

Gabriel made an “uh-oh” face.

“No, I think he just wants to ask you some questions about your Civil War days. When I told him how old you are, he kind of started drooling.” I laughed.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friendly chat with a special lady friend’s father,” he said, tugging at his shirt collar. “It will be friendly, won’t it?”

“Decidedly,” I assured him as he slipped his arm around mine. “He likes you. The fact that you’re a living record of everything he’s ever wanted to know about the history of the Hollow just gives you that much more of an edge.”

“And your mother?” he asked.

“Has taken to her bed and is refusing to come out. I think I have been officially written out of my grandmother’s will, but really, my name was in pencil, anyway, so it hardly matters.

“I am allowed to be friends with Andrea again, which is nice. Aunt Jettie says hi, by the way, and that she prefers that you wear pants the next time you’re in the house.”

“I’m sure you’ll explain that, at length, at another time,” he said, clearly confused. I’d forgotten that he and Aunt Jettie had never been properly introduced.

“My first battle to the death,” I said. “How many of those am I going to have? Because they’re not fun.”

“They’re rare,” he assured me. “Maybe we could put you in one of those plastic hamster balls for your protection.”

“That’s two jokes in two nights. You’re on a roll.”

“I think you’re having a bad influence on me,” he said solemnly.

“It’s nice to return the favor.”

“So, is this purely a social visit, or is there news from the council I should be aware of?” I asked, playing with the lapels of his coat.

“You’ve been cleared in Missy’s death,” he said. “Cleared in the sense that the council knows you killed her but feels it was justified. Also, they’ve ruled that you were not involved in Walter’s death.”

“Does that mean I have to give the Knight Rider DVDs back? Because they were kind of destroyed in the fire at Dick’s place. Where is Dick staying, anyway?”

“Not with me,” Gabriel muttered. “And that is all that matters.”

“You are going to have to come to some sort of truce with the guy,” I told him. “Now that I know he wasn’t involved in a conspiracy to defame and murder me, I consider Dick a friend. And as my…” Gabriel’s eyes focused on mine as I searched for an appropriate term. Unfortunately, all I came up with was “another important person in my life, I think it’s important that the two of you get along. Oh, come on, I’m not asking you to invite him to move in with you.”

Gabriel’s lips disappeared as he mulled that over. He finally relaxed enough to say, “Ophelia sends her regards. She also said she would like to not see you for several months.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I told him.

“The good news is you can expect a rather large deposit in your accounts soon,” he said. “And you’ll inherit the land surrounding your property in addition to Missy’s other holdings.”

“I don’t want to know how they know my account numbers, do I?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“I still have a hard time believing this was all about real estate and money,” I murmured as I stared up at the purpling sky.

With the weight of an impending murder trial off my shoulders, the world was a beautiful place again. The stars stretched out forever, and anything seemed possible…except maybe getting a tan. For the first time in a long time, I felt comfortable in my own skin.

“I kind of hoped that vampires were above petty greed,” I said.

He smiled that maddening Buddha smile. “Well, we were all human once.”

“Speak for yourself.”