My Vampire Grumpy Boss by Michele Bardsley

Author:Michele Bardsley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michele Bardsley

5

HONEY

As I followed Simon into the room, I could still feel the press of his lips against my forehead. I refused to rub the area because I wanted to keep him there. If that was the only physical contact I was going to have with Simon Aubert’s lips, I was going to hold on to it as long as possible.

When we entered, I braced myself for another sneezing fit. Thankfully, no sneezing occurred. I’d expected the dangerous magical book room to be dark and musty with skittering noises from unknown creatures, I guess. But instead, it was cleaner than the bookstore itself. Well-lit, free of dust, and organized.

I counted a total of ten bookshelves: five and five with a walkthrough between them. Past the shelves was a metal table with two uncomfortable looking metal chairs. Braced against the back wall, a couple feet past the table, were glass cases displaying at least a dozen books with elaborate covers. It was obvious from many of the ornate covers these were very old—probably from Simon’s original time, if not older. I also noticed several scrolls tied with twine, a length of copper with unrecognizable symbols beaten into the metal, and some clay cuneiform tablets.

“You really do have amazing treasures here,” I said.

Simon looked very pleased with my comment. “I certainly do. Now…I’m thinking of two books in particular that may help us escape from Brank. The first is supposedly a genie’s diary. At least that’s what the werewolf who sold it to me said. I knew from the composition the book was at least six-hundred years old, so I went ahead and bought it. The language is unknown to me, but I know something rare when I see it.” His gaze on me deepened.

I blushed but didn’t look away. “If it’s truly written by one of my kind, then the unknown language makes sense. Only genies can read the language of genies.”

“Ah. Then you are more suited to dig through its contents than me.” He walked to the glass cabinet, and pulled out a small sheaf of papyrus held together by a knot of some plant material in the corner. “Wear gloves, please. It’s quite fragile.”

He placed the book on the table, and then reached into a drawer and pulled out two pairs of cotton gloves. He handed me a pair. I put them on and sat down, being very careful as I flipped over the first page. The writing was faded. Obviously some pages were missing, and I didn’t yet see any indication who’d authored the diary.

Simon sat down beside me, also wearing a pair of cotton gloves, and plunked down one of the larger medieval manuscripts. He saw me eyeing the book. “It’s a book of remedies written by a coven of witches around the time of the Inquisition. They were afraid witch history and spells would be forgotten if their kind was wiped out by the Catholic Pope’s torturers. It’s a rare compendium, and as such, may hold more than one answer for us.

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