"Rent? Cherie, you know you could live here, free of rent, and have everything you need. " His voice dropped low and suggestive at the last bit, and Macey your great-great-grandmothert -felt a flush of heat swarm over her throat and cheeks.
"Absolutely not. " But her heart pounded, and her gaze slid automatically to Sebastian's torso. It was covered properly by a fine tailored shirt. But she knew somewhere beneath it was a tiny silver cross. . . and she had a difficult time keeping herself from imagining how it would look against his golden, muscled skin. A flush moved up along her throat.
"But was my hospitality that poor last night?" He smiled and his gaze warmed. "Surely you found the bed comfortable, and you need not fear any unwelcome visitors while here. "
She had stayed in a guest room attached to The Silver Chalice last night and was wearing clean clothing Temple had somehow located for her, but Macey wasn't about to make that a habit. For though Sebastian had been nothing but gentlemanly, she wasn't certain she trusted him. . . or herself. Not yet, anyway.
"I'm going to my job. Dr. Morgan is expecting me. After work, I'll meet Temple for more training. Then I'll return to my own flat, where I'll stay tonight. " Her calling as a Venator might be important, but she had no intention of letting it take over her life. She'd worked long and hard to move from rinky-dink Skittlesville to the excitement of Chicago, to find her dream job and get her own place. She wasn't giving that up now.
Besides. A gal could only spend so much time fighting and learning how to use the curve-bladed kadhara. "Now I know how to protect myself from any undead entering my apartment. "
"Yes. " Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "And besides-since you killed the Guardian vampire who broke into your room, you have no need to fear him coming back. Presumably he gained permission to enter your house from that silly landlady of yours, who invited him in. "
> "Yes. He must have come to warn her and the other residents about the so-called gas main leak on Friday. That's how he was able to enter, and that's why no one was there when he attacked me. " She settled her saucy new hat-courtesy of Cookie-in place and picked up her pocketbook. "When I get home tonight, I'll put some more precautions in place and try to find a way to tell Mrs. G not to let anyone in the house she doesn't know. " Although that was going to be a challenge. "I'll tell her there's been a rash of robberies or something, and that the thieves have been scoping out the houses first. "
And before Sebastian could attempt to dissuade her further, Macey left and went to work. Then she went to Cookie's to train, eventually made her way home, and collapsed in bed. She didn't remember anything until her alarm clock rang the next morning.
After this routine, by Friday morning she was slightly less exhausted but definitely sore from all her unfamiliar activity. And she had blisters on the inside of her thumb from handling knives and swords, not to mention stakes.
And so her life went for the next three weeks: working during the day and training with Temple in the evenings and on the weekends. Most of the time, she ended up sleeping in a small
When she got to work one Friday morning after a particularly exhausting week, Macey found two boxes of books sitting on her desk. They'd been donated by one of the university's benefactors, and though the volumes had been classified, they still needed to be catalogued. She spent the first few hours of her morning typing up a card with the Dewey code for each volume, plus ten copies of each. Truth be told, it might have taken her less time if she hadn't gotten sidetracked by a chapter on Greco-Roman bricklaying (fascinating!), a diagram of the interior of Tutankhamon's tomb compared to that of Rameses II, a description of how absinthe was traditionally fermented, and the bound collection of love letters between Dolley and James Madison.
When she finally finished typing the cards, Macey inserted the appropriate bookplates announcing the donation and then imprinted the raised library seal on each title page. Then she took the books, as many as she could carry and by classification, into the depths of the stacks. As the director's assistant, she could have sent them down for one of the pages to put on the shelf, but Macey loved books, and loved roaming the stacks. She never knew what she'd find among the rows and rows of shelves.
The scent of old and new books mingled-dusty, musty, and with the sharp tinge of glue and fresh paper. On the main floors near the reading rooms, the shelves were comfortably spaced and loomed high over her head. She needed a step stool to reach the top three rows. But in the basement stacks, the ceiling was very low and the metal shelves were close. Some enterprising person had painted floor and stacks numbers and arrows on the floor and walls so as to ensure none of the students would get lost in the labyrinth and be wandering therein for hours-or days. (That was, according to Dr. Morgan, an old joke among the library staff-where to look for the medical students if they didn't show up for their final exams. )
Macey went to the basement level with her last group of books, making her way through the Philosophy and Religion section. With no natural light down there and random lamps studding the ceiling, the space was dim and shadowy in areas. The pages were at lunch, and it was empty and quiet among the rows of books.
But as she bent to slide a book into its new home, she heard the soft scuff of someone's shoe. The sound was so faint she almost thought she imagined it. But the air gave a subtle shift and the hair on her arms lifted, prickling uncomfortably. She shoved the book in place on a lower shelf and rose, looking around. It was a library, and students and faculty visited constantly. Even with the pages gone to eat, someone else among the stacks wasn't a surprise. But Macey's heart was pounding hard, and she found herself vibrating with awareness as she listened and waited. Someone was there, and he or she was trying to be abnormally quiet.
Then she heard it again. . . the faintest sound, the breath of a shoe against the concrete floor, the shift in the air accompanied by a subtle new scent-crisp and a little smoky. Absent was the sound of books being taken off the shelves or papers crinkling-the normal noise of a student or professor in search of a research volume.
All at once, a book fell from the shelf next to her. It landed flat on the floor at her feet
A dark eye peered at her through the empty slot on the shelf, and she felt a rush of relief when she recognized it. Though her knees were still a little wobbly, her breathing steadied as she snatched up the fallen book and shoved it back into place.
"Steady nerves you have there," said Chas as he sauntered into view from around the corner. "Definitely the making of a good Venator. "
"You take great delight in sneaking around and popping up on people, don't you?" She collected the rest of the books she needed to shelve and held them against her like a shield.
"One must find amusement where one can. " He skimmed his dark hand over a row of book spines and casually plucked out a selection.
"What do you want?" Macey saw no reason Chas should distract her from work, so she started walking toward the TA-TE row, leaving him to follow if he chose.
"Temple says you're doing extremely well with your training. " He was right behind her as she turned down the main aisle, her heels thudding purposefully on concrete until she found the section she needed.
"That's not what she told me. " Macey shoved her pile of books into Chas's chest then turned to make room on the shelf for a new addition. In fact, Temple had been ominously silent about her progress, or lack thereof. So much so that Macey was planning on skipping her session tonight.
It was Friday, after all. She hadn't done anything but work, train, and sleep for three weeks, and Chelle had left a message that she and Dottie were planning on going to the grand re-opening gala at The Palmer Hotel. It was open to the public, if you could get a ticket-or, in Dottie's case, if you were dating the hotel's assistant manager. She'd wrangled four tickets through him, and Macey and Flora were invited too.
The message reminded Macey she hadn't heard from Flora since that morning she showed up at her flat, when Grady was there. More than three weeks ago. Macey had a feeling her friend wasn't very happy with her.
And then there was Grady.
Yes, the handsome Irishman had certainly popped into her mind more often than he should have. Especially whenever she noticed the broken broomstick that still sat on her bureau. He'd actually stopped by the library last week, wanting to take her for a cup of coffee. But she'd been in the middle of a project and had to decline. Besides, he was probably mostly interested in grilling her about the vampire situation.
Chas watched her as she shifted the books and aligned them on the shelf. "Temple says she can tell you are quite gifted, even at this early stage. So, we're going out tonight, you and I. Bring a stake. And wear something that shows off your legs. " When she spun to glare at him, he merely smil coincidence slyed and handed her a book-surprisingly, the one for which she'd just made space on the shelf. "See you tonight, Macey. Be ready to spill some dust. "