Ink and Blood

1. Monsters in the Library

Books are magical, not just for the worlds within their pages, but for the way they transport a reader to places where anything's possible.

The last of the sunset faded and darkness fell over Rotterburgh's Library like a mourner's veil. Statues of winged angels and bats stood guard at the entrance, but not even their blessed stone could've protected the vampire librarian that night.

Sinclair Thorn sipped delicious B positive fae blood from a bat-shaped mug while he read the Midnight Ledger at the front desk. Coffin Snatchers Strike Again embellished the front page of the newspaper, detailing how another vampire was snatched right out of his home during the daylight hours while he rested, never to be seen or heard from again.

Paranoia had gripped Sinclair by the throat with each new case, every victim closer to him. He strengthened his wards like never before, even daring to visit a witch's shop for protective charms to hang on his coffin like morbid Nightfall eve ornaments.

While he had faith the library would protect him from anything wicked that tried to drag him out of his coffin by his ankles, all the articles of missing vampires had him on tenterhooks. The vampire over on Fangcrest Street was the twelfth to vanish, and Sinclair hated to think of his own sorry fangs being the unlucky thirteenth vamp to disappear into the morning fog.

A gust of frigid wind caught Sinclair's attention as a weary traveler entered through the frosted front door, wrapped in a thick, black velvet cloak that shimmered like the starry night sky, adorned with the Night Court emblem of a sword with dragon wings. Snowflakes melted on his cloak as he stomped off remnants of snow on the mat, his golden eyes glowing in the dim lantern light.

"Terribly cold out tonight, isn't it?" Rhett Meadowlark shivered and tugged his hood down, exposing the reddened, long pointy tips of his ears. A silver streak shone like a shooting star in his well-coiffed raven-hued hair. Striking swirls of black ink peeked out from beneath his collar and traveled over the smooth curve of his neck. "Might I light us some more candles?"

"Sure. Be my guest." Sinclair shrugged.

Fiery embers sparked on the Night Court faerie's fingertips, and with a sweeping gesture, flames ignited on the wicks of the unlit candles in the library. Rhett had shown up one day in search of a grimoire that had once belonged to the previous Winter Queen, but alas, it was nowhere stowed away in Rotterburgh's library. However, that had not stopped Rhett from visiting each night since.

"I brought some pastries from Caldron's Cakeshop." Rhett pulled out a paper sack decorated in fake spiders with party hats surrounding a caldron. "Midnight munchies, you know? I hope you don't mind because I know eating in the library goes against the oh-so sacred rules, but I'm sure you'll make an exception for me." Before he could say a word, Rhett pulled out a freshly sealed vial of blood and passed it across his desk with a wink. "Figured bribery wouldn't hurt either."

"Don't worry, I won't tell the secret librarian society of your crimes." Sinclair eyed the vial of blood like he expected it to magically poof into a snake and bite him. "You do know I'm capable of feeding myself, right? There are plenty of blood banks and other unsavory places for me to find fresh blood."

"Do I really taste that rancid?" Rhett asked, feigning a pained look. "I've never had a vampire once tell me to keep my blood to myself until I met you."

"Fae blood is addictive to my kind, you know that." Sinclair frowned. "It's dangerous to barter your blood away so freely as you do. If you encounter the wrong vampire, they won't hold back and drain you dry. It won't matter how much control you think you have until you're under their fangs."