Page 52 of Blood Moon
“It’s not illegal. I’m just gonna borrow the book and return it once I’m done. And thanks,” I said, flipping my tresses toward her. “I just washed it.”
“Remind me again why you can’t check the damn thing out?” she murmured sharply.
“Does this look like a library to you?“
Naomi made a face, and I hurried off to the hall by the restrooms before she rang the bell. The plan was for me to stay out of sight while Naomi lured Abba to the opposite side of the building. Then, and only then, would I retrieve the key, unlock the drawer, and take the book.
The clicking of heels against marble signified that Abba was near. I edged toward the end of the hall, peeking around to see Abba dabbing her mouth with a napkin as she walked toward the front desk. There was a chipper exchange between the two. Naomi pointed to an area away from my destination, by the entrance. Hesitant, Abba scratched her head, but she followed anyway.
In a breath, I hurried to the front desk, trying my best not to make much sound over the jazz music that played quietly in the background. The first drawer revealed notepad paper, pens, and mints—not what I was in search of. I recalled that the skeleton key was lengthy and brass-plated.
I glanced up to see Naomi bobbing her head while she spoke, going on and on in her signature way.Good.I still had time. In the second drawer, various items were placed neatly in containers, but folded in a velvet cloth was the key. I undid the cloth and wrapped my fingers around it, feeling the coolness against my palm. I was filled with glee, closing the drawer with a mischievous smile, when the phone rang.
The sound startled me, causing a stab of panic in my throat and ears as I dropped the key reflexively. I plunged to the floor, listening to the rushing sound of Abba’s footsteps as she hurried this way.
In a quick decision, I grabbed the key and scurried beneath the desk, legs pressed to my chest. I held back a gasp and tried to make myself small, unnoticeable, while Naomi begged Abba to come back.
“Just a minute,” she called out. With wide eyes, I was suddenly staring at Abba’s feet. She wore black pumps and sheer tights. “The Sutton Art Museum. This is Abba, how may I assist you?” she said in a breath. The sentence came out easy, rehearsed, and she took a step forward. I scooted back as far as I could, pressing myself thin against the parameters.
A pivot and a tap. “Mmhmm,” she hummed, and she went for a drawer. I twisted my face in horror, pleaded for mercy. Heard her hands dig around. “Right,” she said. “I’m taking down the request, and I can send you what I have tomorrow morning. How does that sound?” Silence, and the sound of a clicking on the surface above me.
I released a breath. It was only paper and pen she had gone for. Another tap of her foot—a hurried one—and I observed a small tattoo located on the inside of her ankle. It was a dagger cutting through a crescent moon. I wondered what it symbolized.
“Uh huh, now. You do the same. Buh-bye.” When the call ended, a drawer opened and closed. I expected Abba to return to what she’d been doing. Instead, she remained in place, mumbling a few words beneath her breath as she shuffled an inch forward. Pressed to the left of me was a burgundy leather tote; I’d missed it before. Her knees bent, fingers reaching in space …
“Ma’am,” Naomi screeched, and Abba’s hand retracted. “I think a bird just flew into the window over here.”
“It’s Abba,” she said, and I could tell she’d locked her jaw, her words coming out with a hiss. “And what in heavens …?” She was gone, and I listened to the pitter of both their feet until a door opened, and their conversation subdued.
Immediately following, I crawled toward the folklore section, the glare from the overhead lights sparkling onto the floor like a treasure map. The case was approximately four feet tall, and beneath it were two rows of locked, rectangular drawers. Unsure which drawer contained the book, I tried both. Flecks of dust drifted in the air upon release of the first drawer.
Exactly in the center, leather-bound and waiting:The Tragical History of the Mythical Nosferatu and Lycans of Kansas City.It smelled of the earth and was cool to the touch. Cautiously, I slipped the book into my bag, locked the drawer, and rushed toward the front desk.
Ahead, Naomi blocked the entrance she and Abba had left through, phone out as she stood in front of the double glass doors. She gestured toward the screen on her phone, showing Abba something. From where I stood, I could see the agitation on Abba’s face, the way the lines in her forehead folded and her nose scrunched. She held a hand to the handle, in hopes that it would persuade Naomi to hurry with the show-and-tell.
Before anyone could catch a glimpse of me, I returned the key and sped through the museum to the back entrance that led into the Bowman Art Building and back outside into the start of the evening.
CHAPTER27
And remember, we were never gods to them; they threw the second stone.
Article I, Lost Letters from Aadan the First
“You owe me.” It was the first thing Naomi said once we got to the Faulkner Library. We sat in a booth on the first floor, and the only thing I could focus on was the simple pleasure that the book was secured.
My hands tingled at the idea of pulling it out, sifting through the delicate pages. Felt my mouth water at the thought.It’s right there …
Naomi’s snapping fingers brought me to. “Are you even listening to me? Why’d you want that book, anyway?”
I fiddled with an answer, locking my sight on two students passing by. “You wouldn’t get it.”
Naomi gasped. “I’m offended you’d even say that. Try me.”
I leaned forward. “This book marks the start of the legends of were—”
A hand flew up right away. “You’re right. I’m not interested.”
I rolled my eyes.
