Page 4

CHAPTER 4

THE EARTH LIbrARY

SHANNON

M y whole adult life, I worked a 9-5 in an office. It paid decent enough that I could eventually live on my own without a roommate, though I wouldn’t say it was my calling or anything.

And then, shortly after Kennedy read the verus amor spell and summoned Loki into her life, I found myself running the used bookstore where I first bought the Grimoire du Sombra. Somehow she ended up just giving it to me after she decided to stay in Sombra, and since I liked the idea of being my own boss—especially since she told us to take over her apartment over the shop, too, so it was like working from home with Mal hiding in his shadows whenever customers were around—I was like: fuck it. Let’s do it.

It wasn’t some big moneymaker. We made enough to keep the lights on and have a roof over her head and food in our bellies. It was enjoyable, though, and I loved it. Going back to run Turn the Page after a small vacation where I gave birth in Sombra was one thing I was looking forward to after Alana was born.

But, obviously, plans changed. Thankfully, I thought ahead early on in my pregnancy and paid the rest of the year’s rent for the store and the apartment out of my 401k. I guess, part of me was preparing that something might happen and I might not be going back to Earth anytime soon.

It took two weeks into motherhood before I accepted that this is it. Unless we got the prophecy hanging over our heads out of the way, and Alana somehow developed some kind of glamour that made her look more human, returning to Jericho wasn’t in the cards. By then, I was so stinking enamored with my baby as she was that I didn’t even want her to be any different.

Though, if I could stop worrying about the damn prophecy, that would be great…

But that left the question: what would I do here? What would be my purpose? I’m the type of chick who needs one, and considering the best I can do when it comes to art is stick figures, it’s not like I could be a clan artist with Malphas. However, Kennedy and me… we could run Turn the Page here in Sombra.

It was a crazy idea. Absolutely nuts.

I fucking ran with it.

Now, nearly four months after I went to Lilith and asked if we could have Loki conjure us a building to house as many books as the guys could slowly relocate from Turn the Page to Sombra, the Earth Library—or, as I call it, the EL—is the draw of Nuit. Open for a handful of hours, five days a week, it gives me something to do that isn’t trying to convince Sombrans that it totally makes sense to measure time in days and weeks instead of just cycles, though they have a seemingly endless amount of it…

I didn’t want to call it the Earth Library. I liked Kennedy’s name for the store and was totally ready to name this one Turn The Page II. However, when the only people who could read English were me, Kennedy, and our mates thanks to the essence exchange, it was inevitable that the villagers would smile and nod and say, “Oh, yes, the Earth library,” and, well, the name just stuck.

Note that I say: were . Turns out, there are plenty of demons and demonesses who were curious to learn more about the mortal realm. And though Loki and Mal got their English courtesy of a magic download to their brains, between running the EL, taking care of Alana, and helping Kennedy prep for her baby’s arrival, we’ve been teaching curious Sombrans and their mates how to both speak and read English.

So many of the demonesses have their own native language, with Sombra being one that we all can understand. Using that as the common tongue—and with Lilith’s help as a clan teacher—we’ve made a lot of progress over the months. In fact, after only our second one ‘in business’, we already have at least two demons and four demonesses who are proficient enough in reading English that they are comfortable borrowing our books.

Because, surprise : immortal demons have a knack when it comes to picking up a language. I shouldn’t have been so surprised about that. Kennedy’s told me a bunch of times how, without Loki being able to do the essence exchange between them at first, they couldn’t communicate since he only knew Sombran and she only knew English. Realizing that he wasn’t letting her get away, she made it her purpose to teach Loki enough that they could communicate.

Of course, her intent had been to convince him to open a portal and bring her back to Jericho. By the time she tamed the feral beast enough to understand that, as his one true mate, he planned on keeping her for forever, she didn’t want to go home again. She was fond of her beast, and how hard he worked to understand her, to honor her, and to please her.

He might’ve ended up healing enough from his fully demonic state to share his essence with Kennedy and take hers in return, becoming suddenly fluent in English, but she was impressed at how quickly he picked up as much of the language as he had.

With half of a bookstore filling up the EL, our students learned even faster .

No surprise to anyone who knows anything about the publishing industry, but nearly all of our new readers veer right to the romance section. And maybe that’s because it’s the section that Kennedy and I are the most familiar with so we can make recommendations to their requests, but I think it’s something more basic than that.

I mean, who doesn’t love ‘love’, right?

It’s funny, though. Back at home, it was hard to keep books in stock in the fantasy romance, paranormal, or even monster smut section. Here? The demonesses smile politely when I offer stories about the fae, wolf shifters, or—my personal favorites—shadow daddies while wondering if they could possibly read about cowboys or doctors or regular ol’ average human dudes.

It only hit me much later that that makes so much sense. To a demoness, wouldn’t a regular ol’ average human dude be a fantasy?

It’s been a slow day today. Alana cooed and babbled and waved at the two demons who came in to have a lesson with Kennedy and Lilith; I learned early on that while I’m great at talking about books and shelving the EL, I don’t have the patience to teach. Kennedy left around lunch to eat with Loki while Lilith stayed to play with Alana until it was time for my baby to go down for a nap. Without any other lessons planned, she went home to check in with Apollyon before plotting her next lessons for the village’s children.

Since I knew Mal was busy with a project today, I ate a couple of ash cookies—named because they’re baked in the ash, not made from it… though their less sweet taste makes me wonder sometimes—and stuck around the EL to see if anyone wanted to browse our stacks.

We only have eight. Eventually, I’m hoping that we can relocate all of Turn the Page here, but we didn’t want to do that so quickly. Mainly because I want to keep the shop locked up tight in Jericho until my lease runs out and, if someone notices that the store’s been closed for months and books are moving overnight without anyone seeing who is doing it, that might beg a couple of questions. Last thing I need is the Jericho PD shutting down Turn the Page and closing the one entrance into Jericho that we know is safe for Mal and Loki to pop in and out without any human possibly catching sight of them.

Still, it’s a start. And since one of the stacks has a couple of Sombran books that Lilith donated, we have something for everyone even if we’re the Earth Library.

In the back corner of the library, I have a handmade playpen that was a gift from Kennedy and Loki after she was born. During some of the many trips back-and-forth in the early days following Alana’s birth, Malphas brought back everything we had accumulated that a halfling baby might need. Cloth and disposable diapers, bottles, nipples, clothes, blankets, baby-safe dishware and toys, plus some of the bigger items: a pack-and-play, a changing table, and a car seat. While I’m too bougie to go completely demon—though I can’t complain that the trash systems… similar to the waste system… in Sombra makes disposing of dirty diapers a breeze—there’s something sweet about using something that was made for her.

Like her cradle, and this playpen, and all the blankets that the sweet seamstresses made for her.

She’s sitting on one now, showing off how advanced she is. Her thumb is tucked between her budding fangs, her golden eyes pretty and happy and content as I read one of the children’s books we have to her during the downtime.

Just when I’m thinking that I can close up an hour or two early and snuggle with Alana at home, the door opens, letting in a rush of hot air.

I glance over at the front of the library, smiling when I recognize the demoness entering it. “Hey, Yvette,” I say in English. She insists so she can practice her grasp on it. “What’s up?”

Yvette is from Brille Rouge. She’s mated to Ferron, one of the best cooks in Nuit. When he shares his meat stew with us, it’s delicious, I don’t even question what the chunks might actually be.

The first time I said that, the sweet demoness paused and glanced up at the ceiling. She knows better now that it’s just a human saying, and in response, she waves.

“Hello, Shannon. Alana. It is good to see you both.”

She has a slight accent since Sombran isn’t her first language. Like me, Ferron gave her his essence and his language, but there’s always a tiny hint that she’s not from here. You could figure that out from her gleaming pink eyes, dark brown skin, short white horns, and curly thick hair, of course, but the accent helps.

In fact, talking to Yvette makes me wonder what I sound like when I speak in Sombran. Something harsh, like a New Yorker who isn’t quite fluent in Spanish but passable at it perhaps. I’m sure it’s nowhere near as lyrical as someone like Mal or maybe Damien, but since everything I hear and speak sounds like English to me, I’ll never know unless I ask.

And if I ask Mal, he’ll just smile and tell me that my voice is music to his pointed ears, the big sap.

“You, too.” After double-checking that Alana is content with her teether, I get up and approach Yvette. “What can I do for you?”

“I come for more cock book,” she says pleasantly.

It takes everything I have not to burst out laughing. “What was that?”

Sombra demons have ridges over their noses. Brille Rouge demons have skin with a slightly bumpy texture. As she scrunches up her face, her features join together, looking more rock-like. “Was my human not good?”

“Oh, no, no, sweetie. Your, um, human is very good.” Switching to Sombran, I tell her, “I just wanted to make sure that I understood. You want a book about cock ?”

“About mating, yes,” she answers in the native language. “I finished one about a man who liked to chop wood and lie with his mate. It was very entertaining. I would like more like that.”

“Lumberjacks,” I tell her, slipping back into English because there’s no direct Sombran translation for that. No surprise. All they have are burn trees, and if I start to wonder where we get oxygen from when this is the least green world I’ve ever heard of, I make sure to drop it real quick. “I think I have more of those.”

As I move toward one of the many romance stacks, she follows behind me. “Sometimes I flip through the pages, searching for the human word. For ‘cock’. Then I know I’ve found the right scenes.” Preening a little, she adds, “I read them to Ferron before bed. It gives him ideas and helps him learn to speak human. Then he says dirty things to me as he…” She pauses, glancing around. When she sees that no one else has entered our library behind her, she giggles, then says, “ fucks me. That’s right, yes?”

Another muffled chuckle from me at the English word mixed in with Sombran. “Perfect, Yvette.”

Since she seems pretty clear on what she wants—and I made sure to assure her that I don’t mind that she’s held onto the last book a little longer for ‘inspiration’—I search through the shelves, letting out a soft ‘ah-ha’ when I find The Woodsman’s Secret Bride . That sounds right up her alley.

“Here you go.”

She takes it reverentially between her curved claws. “Thank you. I am very curious about this woodsman’s mate.”

“Well, you tell me all about her when you’re done.”

And maybe keep what happens between you and Ferron to yourself…

Yvette grins and promises that she will. I wave her off, check on Alana again because motherhood is a one-way trip to anxiety hell, then turn to the ledger where I keep track of who borrows what book from the library.

It doesn’t take long for me to jot down the title and Yvette’s name, but when I’m putting my pen I had Mal bring, too, down on the page, I glance up to see a demoness standing a few feet away from Alana’s playpen.

I don’t know everyone in Nuit on sight just yet. For sure, the Soleil demoness—with features like Lilith’s, only without any of her warmth—is not a member of the EL or our English lessons. She might be the mate of one of the older hunters, but I won’t lie: I only think that because the sneer of disgust I caught on her face is the same as the one he gives me when I’m strolling around the village square with Alana.

My back goes right up even as the demoness works to smooth out her features.

Okay. I’ve made the best of it. I love living with Mal, and I’ve made good friends. Kennedy, Lilith, Billie when she’s here, the other human girls who visit, even Yvette. The EL gives me something to do, and I thought that the villagers would get used to me in time.

They never had a problem before. They all seem to adore Kennedy. And yet, ever since I’ve tried to really integrate into the community, I get this vibe that they suddenly want me gone.

Good luck. I’ll do anything to keep my daughter safe and my family together, whether these mean girls—these mean demonesses— want me to or not.

So, pulling a customer service smile to my face even though I keep my eyes hard, I nod at her. “Welcome to the Earth Library.”

She startles, as though she didn’t expect me to speak. Hell. I even purposely used Sombran so as not to really rub in my humanness so I don’t know what freaked her out.

Something did, though. Without a word in response, she throws one last look at Alana, then turns on her heels, hurrying out the door.

I think I know how she got inside the EL without me noticing before. She must’ve slipped in as Yvette left because right as she storms out the door, Kennedy sidles in before the door closes.

I say, sidle… poor chick basically waddles as Freya—her pet squirrel-cat—chitters at her feet. The shadow animal throws herself up, rubbing Kennedy’s calf, before bounding over to the low playpen to visit with Alana.

Heading toward the check-out counter, jerking her thumb at the door, Kennedy asks me curiously, “What was Nita’s hurry?”

I wish I knew, Ken. I wish I knew.