❝just ourselves and immortality.❞
Daisy Mercer has been told her whole life that vampires are the enemy. Witches are trustworthy. Daemons, well, daemons aren't even worth remarking on. And vampires would kill you without a second thought. But when...
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☾ ☽
THE BODLEIAN LIBRARY WAS MORE POPULATED TODAY than she had ever seen it. Before this morning, the most people she had seen in this end of the library (the typically quieter end she chose for her research, as well as being the end where the disturbance had taken place just days ago) was a dozen souls, give or take. But today, there was at least three times that, overwhelming the tables and the stacks. And there was one thing everyone in this section of the library this morning had in common: they were all creatures.
It was witches for the most part, many of them recognizing her from their coven and nodding at her in recognition when she came in but there were a surprising few with unfamiliar faces, but Daisy was able to spot the occasional daemon amongst the books, their fleeting glances across the library like brief, unnerving kisses on her skin as they crossed over her. So the daemons knew about the Book of Life, about Diana Bishop. They were waiting for her to return and call up the Ashmole manuscript again, just like the witches were. No matter. The daemons would never be able to take the book with as many witches there as there were.
Ah, that book, that manuscript. If it was truly the Book of Life like Peter Knox seemed to believe, then that would change everything—if only they could get their hands on it. Daisy had spoken to the Congregation member just the day before; he'd stopped by her flat again to inform her that Diana Bishop had refused to call up the book and that she and her coven would have to up their game (that particular phrasing hers, not his). They weren't just to wait and watch now. If Diana Bishop returned to the Bodleian Library, whatever witch from her coven was there was to call Knox and the others, and they were to somehow convince her to call up the book for them. The stressing on the word 'convince' told her he meant they were to force her to do it. Daisy had no choice but to agree.
But it had been two hours, and there was no sign of Diana Bishop. Daisy had even inquired of one of the human workers, a fellow called Sean at the call-desk who she'd seen Diana amicably chatting with, if he'd seen her, and he'd told her not in two days and that it was a little odd. So there was very little chance of Diana showing up today, but Daisy got the feeling she might be subject to a witch's punishment, whatever that could be, if she were to leave so soon. So she stayed, kept listening to her classical playlists and looking through old botanical folios.
Then the hairs on the back of her head stood on end. It was a subtle change, but she felt it without looking up. It wasn't anything like the disturbance the other day, thank the Goddess, but it was enough to disturb her focus. She looked up. There was a man stood in the center of the room, so still that he seemed a statue. He wasn't a witch. He wasn't a daemon. He wasn't a human.
The vampires knew about the Book of Life. He was the only one of them in this room, but his presence was enough. There was a foreboding nature about him—well, most vampires she'd had the displeasure of coming across had that sense about them, even if she'd only come across them for mere seconds, but this vampire here seemed...different, somehow. She couldn't explain. She didn't want to. But just being in the same room as him made her feel like the walls were closing in on her.
