“Okay,” she whispered in her sternest librarian voice, “he’s a sweet, old man, and I don’t want you two to mess with his brain. He’s a professor. He needs it.”
Giovanni frowned. “Really, Beatrice, how clumsy do you think we are? He would never realize-”
“Don’t care. It’s his brain. Stay out and wait your turn.”
She saw Giovanni’s nostrils flair a little in annoyance, or maybe he had simply caught the scent of the old parchment at the other table. Carwyn, she thought, looked like he might break into laughter at any minute and kept glancing between his friend and Beatrice.
“Fine. If I could have the Tibetan manuscript then, Miss De Novo.”
She rolled her eyes at his tone, but turned and walked back to the stacks to get the manuscript for him as he chose a table near the small professor who was already busy taking notes.
By the time she got back, she noticed that Giovanni had assumed his usual position at the table, though he was watching Dr. Scalia with an almost predatory stare. She set the book down in front of him and grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper from the stack he had sitting on the table. With a quick scribble and a fold, she wrote a small note and propped it in front of the 500 year old vampire.
No biting. No altering cerebral cortexes. Have a nice day.
He couldn’t keep the smirk from sneaking across his face. He looked up at her, winked, and bent his head to his notes.
Wearing her own smile, she walked back to the reference desk to find Carwyn had pulled a chair over and was reading the paperback she had started that morning. As always, he was eye-catching in a loud Hawaiian shirt that clashed with his red hair and made his blue eyes seem to pop out.
He glanced up from the book. “Do you-”
“Shhh!” She glared and put her finger to her lips.
“Such a librarian. You need wee glasses sitting on the tip of your nose when you do that,” he whispered loudly. She heard Giovanni shift at his table and she looked over her shoulder to see him glaring at Carwyn. Snickering, the mischievous vampire reached into her book bag and pulled out the notebook that she’d been using to take notes on the mysterious Pico and his letters.
She could see when Carwyn discovered the notes, but he didn’t look angry. On the contrary, he looked inordinately pleased and immediately flipped to the back of the notebook and began to write.
You’re a curious thing, B.
Flipping the notebook to her, she read and took a moment to respond.
I’ve had some curious things happen to me this fall. Also, I feel like we’re passing notes in study hall.
We are, he wrote back. So, what do you want to know that Professor Chatty won’t tell you?
She couldn’t hold in the snort when she wrote, Everything.
Carwyn just smiled and took a few moments to write back.
I can’t tell you his story. One, I don’t know all of it. I don’t think anyone does. Two, what I do know is not mine to tell. But you’re welcome to ask me anything about my life that you’d like.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. Anything?
Other than what color pants I’m wearing (red, by the way) I’m an open book.
She held back the giggle. Always try to match your hair and your underwear. It’s just a good rule of thumb. How old are you?
He smiled and wrote back. I’m around thirty-five…plus a thousand years. Approximately.
Beatrice gaped for a moment, trying to reconcile a thousand years with the relatively young man before her. She tried to imagine the things Carwyn must have seen and how much the world had changed since he was human. She couldn’t begin to imagine.
Where were you born?
Gwynedd. Northern part of Wales.
And you’re still there?
For the most part, I always have been. I’m quite the homebody, unlike our Gio.
She narrowed her eyes and wrote, Are you really a priest?
He chuckled quietly. Yes, you don’t have to be an old man, you know. And my father was a priest. And my grandfather. And one of my sons became abbott of our community after I was gone.
She frowned. Kinda lax on that whole celibacy thing, huh?
Carwyn grinned. Not uncommon in the Welsh church. And it was before Gregory. (Look it up.) Many Welsh priests married. Rome had a hard time conquering Wales. Militarily and ecclesiastically. He winked as he finished the sentence.
So you were married?
He just nodded and smiled. “Efa,” he whispered.
She paused for a moment. What happened to your wife? Your children?
Carwyn offered a wistful smile. My wife went to our God before I was turned. She died quite young from a fever. Our children were taken in by our community when I disappeared. I went back years later. Those that survived had good lives.
She looked at him, and for a moment, she could see the hundreds of years in his eyes, but they quickly lit again in joy.
There is a time for sorrow and a time for joy, he wrote. I have a new family now.
Beatrice raised her eyebrows in question and he continued writing with a smile.
You’ll come to Wales someday and meet them. I have eleven children. Most of them have stayed fairly close to home. We keep the British deer population under control.
She mouthed ‘wow,’ but only wrote, So none of you bite people?
He grinned. Not usually. Just if they smell really good, like you. Joking.
She rolled her eyes. Never married again? Do vampires even get married? That seems kind of normal for the mystical undead creatures of the night.
Some do. He smiled. It’s not uncommon. One of my sons has been married for four hundred years now. I haven’t ever wanted to again.
Her eyes bugged out. How do you stay married to someone for 400 years?
He frowned seriously before he wrote back. Separate vacations.
She couldn’t contain the small snort that escaped her. She glanced up, and Dr. Scalia was still raptly studying the Pico letters, but Giovanni was glaring at her and Carwyn in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and mouthed, ‘Get back to work.’
Giovanni smiled and shook his head a little.
She caught Carwyn watching them out of the corner of his eye. He began to scribble on the notebook again.
He’s never married.
She paused for a moment and Carwyn continued writing. He handed the notebook to her.
Don’t pretend you weren’t curious.
She glared at him. I can’t even imagine Professor Frosty dating, she wrote quickly and tossed the notebook at him.
Then it was Carwyn who couldn’t hold in the snort. He wrote something in bold letters and underlined it twice.
Opposite. Of. Frosty.
She shook her head but couldn’t think of anything to write back, so she busied herself checking her e-mail as Carwyn scribbled. After a while, she leaned back in her chair and he handed her the book again, a mischievous grin on his face.
Do you like Gio? Check yes or no. He had sketched two small boxes underneath the question with a large arrow pointing to the “yes” box.
She rolled her eyes and wrote back. How can you be this childish after a thousand years?