Page 68 of Hunt the Dusk
I sat up straighter. “You have a library?” I’d already finished the books I’d brought with me. “Wait…is it filled with old books written in Latin?”
She chuckled. “Some, but there are modern books too. Master Ezekiel likes his library to be up to date. It’s how he acclimatizes to each new century. Literature can tell you a lot about an era. You’ll find newspapers and magazines, brochures and pamphlets, and all the latest novels.”
I was already on my feet. “Can you show me? Please?”
Ingrid patted the dough and covered it with a cloth. “Of course I can, dear.”
Ingrid leftme outside a set of double doors in a part of the castle I hadn’t fully explored yet, which explained why I hadn’t found the library.
I expected a room filled with books, but what I got was a ballroom-sized chamber with three floors of neatly arrangedtomes accessible via silver steps and ladders and a forest of aisles on the ground floor that vanished into shadow. And sitting in the center of it all, stretched out in a huge armchair with a book, was Hemlock.
He glanced up as I entered, a frown appearing between his eyebrows. “Orina? Is everything all right?”
“Why didn’t you tell me this place had a library?” I wandered over to the nearest shelf and ran my fingers along the leather spines. “Classics…Where are the modern novels?”
“You read?” he asked.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
He set his book down, unfurled his tall frame, and stretched. His hair was ruffled, his shirt creased, and he’d kicked off his boots. This was obviously a comfort spot for him, and I suddenly felt like an intruder.
“This way.” He padded into the stacks, and I followed.
It was gloomy in the aisles, the light from the main room barely trickling in, but there were small spotlights fixed to the shelves—crystals that cast a glow strong enough to read by.
The scent of leather and paper evoked nostalgia, bringing a sense of peace I only truly felt when lost among the pages of a good book. Hemlock obviously had a similar relationship with literature because this version of him, here, surrounded by tomes was the most unwound, relaxed iteration I’d been presented with.
“Look, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just take a couple of books and leave you to it.”
He threw an amused glance over his shoulder. “Do I look disturbed?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“Why would you think that?” There was a smile to his voice now.
“Because you’re being nice to me.”
“Blunt as always. Ordell and I agreed to be supportive, didn’t we? And considering he can’t be around you much, it falls to me to be your point of contact.”
“You haven’t been around much yourself this past week.”
“I’m never far, Orina, but I won’t be following you around and checking up on you. That kind of vigilance is reserved for out in the field.”
He took a right at the intersection of books. How large was this room?
“So you think I’m safe here now.”
He was silent for several beats. “Yes. I don’t believe Ezekiel will hurt you now.”
Something had changed between the vampire king and me, and Hemlock and Ordell must have sensed it too.
“Hemlock…do you think…Do you think he’ll ever be whole again?”
He stopped and turned to me, his face hidden in shadow. “Do youwanthim to be?”
“If you’d asked me that a week ago, I would have told you I didn’t care either way, as long as he kept his fangs to himself, but now…Now I want him to heal. I want him to be whole again.”
“Why?” Hemlock stepped closer, and his scent mingled with the bookish aroma of the library. “Why do you want that?”
