I pulled away, momentarily dizzy. “Wow.”
She laughed, a sound of such untarnished happiness that I couldn’t help but do the same. Her hands slid beneath my shirt and up the skin of my back, making me shiver. I ran my hand through her hair, then traced the curve of her ear, eliciting a soft moan of enjoyment.
She pressed her cheek to mine so her breath warmed my neck. “Do we have to go vampire hunting right away?”
I didn’t want to answer, so I kissed her again, a move Lena seemed to appreciate. Her leg curled around mine, her body resting against the trunk of the car for support as I leaned into her.
A loud whistle yanked me back to reality. A woman watching from the entrance to the restaurant smiled and gave us a thumbs-up.
Lena nipped my ear, then whispered, “Why couldn’t you have figured this out last night?”
“That’s a good question, and once the blood flow returns to my brain, I might even be able to answer it.”
She laughed, kissed my palm, and circled around to the passenger side.
Neither of us spoke as we drove, but each time I peeked over at Lena, she was smiling. Her body appeared relaxed, her movements more fluid.
As for me, I felt like I was on a roller coaster that had just started climbing that first hill. I was anxious, exhilarated, and a little uncertain what I had gotten myself into. Lena Greenwood was a literal fantasy woman, written by a man as an imaginary plaything for other men. But the moment she stepped out of her tree all those years ago, she had become something more. Something magical and beautiful and strong.
Much as I wanted to head straight to the nearest hotel and spend the rest of the day exploring that magic, we had undead killers to stop, and that meant another shopping trip.
A short distance from the Ambassador Bridge, I pulled into a small, fenced-in lot beside a four-story warehouse. The store was unimpressive from the outside. Small safety glass windows did little to break up the monotony of the red brick walls. A peeling billboard on the front of the building read, “K’s USED BOOKS.”
“I hate big cities, but there are a few advantages,” I said as we climbed out of the car.
The bookstore had no coffee shop. No Internet cafe, no window displays, no toys or greeting cards or cute little calendars with inspirational quotes and pictures of kittens. K’s Books sold books. Four stories worth of books. Row after row of ten-foot-high wooden bookshelves, every shelf bowing under the weight of its inventory.
I stepped inside and inhaled the old-paper smell. Dehumidifiers hummed away in the background. Fluorescent lights flickered in the aisles. A hand-inked map tacked onto the wall by the staircase detailed the subjects to be found on each floor.
Had there been any justice in the world, the owners, Kevin and Fawn Shamel, would have been libriomancers. They loved books as much as any man or woman I had ever met. But strong as that love might be, they lacked any magical ability whatsoever.
Fawn was working the front today, behind an old-fashioned cash register and a pile of empty brown paper grocery bags. She was in her late sixties, slender as a twig, with braided gray hair and a perpetual grin that widened when she spotted me. “Isaac Vainio! Long time no see, stranger!”
“When are you going to open up a store in Copper River?” I demanded as I reached over to pet Brillo, the store cat, who was curled up on the edge of the counter. Age had robbed Brillo of most of the kinked hair on his back that had given him his name, leaving him rather pathetically pink and balding, but the years had taken none of his attitude. He yowled and batted my hand when I stopped petting him.
Fawn shook her head. “We’re barely breaking even these days. The economy’s in the toilet.” She jabbed a finger at me. “I expect you to put us into the black this month, Isaac Vainio!”
“Yes, ma’am. So where’s Kevin?”
She rolled her eyes. “Book fair in Grand Rapids.”
“Oh, really?” I glanced at the old clock on the wall, calculating how long it would take to reach Grand Rapids. Lena jabbed me with an elbow, reminding me why we were here.
Fawn tilted her head. “And who is this?”
“A friend from work,” Lena said.
“A friend. I see.” Fawn’s lips pressed into a knowing smile. “Isaac’s a pretty good man, but he gets lost in his head sometimes. Just give him a good thwack to bring him back.”
“Come on,” I said, grabbing one of the bags off the counter. “Let’s go stimulate the economy.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Lena murmured, taking my hand in hers.
Science fiction and fantasy were on the third floor. I climbed past stacks of unshelved books at every landing, pausing briefly to admire the old reading- and book-related posters that papered the walls.
Lena laughed. “You’re practically glowing.”
“I’m having a good day.” I could feel the books calling out to me as I walked through the third floor, moving unerringly toward the familiar shelves. So much magical potential waiting to be brought into this world. “Even before I learned what I was, books were my escape from the world. This place… bookstores, libraries… they’re the closest thing I have to a church.” I ran my finger lightly over the spines as I walked, skimming authors and titles. The SF section alone probably held more books than the entire Copper River Library.
“So you stopped here for a blessing before wading into the lions’ den?”
“Not exactly.” I grabbed a book and dropped it into my bag. “K’s Books is more than just a church. It’s also my armory.”
One by one, I filled my bag, concentrating on vampire books. Urban fantasy, paranormal romance, gaming tie-ins, old-school horror… nothing could stop every subspecies of vampire, but by the time I filled that first bag, I had enough material to protect us from at least ninety percent of them, and armament enough to give the last ten percent pause.
I dropped the bag at the front desk and grabbed another. I found a few more potential weapons, but also picked up some books for pleasure reading, titles I had been meaning to read or reread for a while. Next, I pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket.
“What’s that?” asked Lena.
“Plan B. I put the list together last night. I slipped the clerk a twenty to let me use his computer to access the Porter database.”
Lena simply smiled as she watched me fill yet another bag and carry it down to the counter, cradling it in both arms to keep it from splitting under the weight of the books. “You’re giddy. Almost postcoitally so.”
Fawn raised an eyebrow as she began adding up the total. “Save it for later, kids. I’ve already tossed out one teenager this week for getting too familiar with the old Playboys on the second floor. Though what anyone wants with old airbrushed magazines when they have their Internet and their smart phones and everything else, I can’t imagine.”
Once she finished swiping my credit card, Fawn limped out from behind the desk, leaning heavily on an aluminum cane. Her arthritis was worse than I remembered. Each step obviously pained her, though she did her best to hide it. She gave me a quick hug with her free arm. “You come back soon, Isaac. We can’t afford to go another two years without your money.”
“I will. Tell Kevin I said hi, and I’ll catch him next time.” I scratched Brillo behind the ears and headed out to the car, my mood darkening with each step.
“What’s wrong?” Lena asked.
“Fawn’s a good person.” I laid my coat out on the trunk and emptied the pockets. “She’s had two knee surgeries and a hip replacement that I know of, and she’s still hurting. I could fix that. One sip from Lucy’s Narnian cordial, or the healing swords from Saberhagen or Lackey… we’ve cataloged more than a hundred books we use for magical healing.”
“So why not help her?”
“Part of the Porters’ mission is to conceal magic’s existence from the world,” I said flatly. “If I heal Fawn Shamel, where do I stop? Who decides who does and doesn’t deserve relief? The books would char and rip open long before we could help everyone, and the magical chaos leaking through those books would create more damage than we’d fixed.”