Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [29]
I told Kelley about my grandfather’s plans and my discussion with the paparazzi outside.
Kelley looked suddenly tired, and I wondered if she was tired of the drama, or if Frank’s blood restrictions were beginning to take their toll. The Thai food had quenched one appetite, but I could feel the hunger for blood slinking around in my mind, waiting for a time to strike. I made a note to check the kitchen upstairs for a bag of Blood4You.
“We do what we can,” Kelley said. “That’s all we can do. We work the problem and pray we can get out in front of it before the next crisis hits.”
“Second that,” Juliet said from her computer station.
Kelley sighed. “And speaking of unpleasantries, I’m advised you’re next on Frank’s interview list.”
“Yay,” I said with zero enthusiasm. “I’m totally looking forward to that.”
“I could assign you to spend the rest of your evening in the library, researching the lake siren to get a feel for her strengths and weaknesses. After all, it would be a dereliction of my duty to send you out to an island without being prepared. And if you were in the library stacks, Frank may not be able to find you . . .”
I grinned in appreciation. “Sneaky. I appreciate that.”
“Not sneaky. Just willing to use the tools at my disposal. And right now, you’re my tool. I need you investigating this problem and keeping humans off our back. Being interrogated by a GP pencil pusher is not going to assist in that process.” She stood up and walked to her desk, then sat down behind her computer. “Learn what you can, and fill me in on what you find out.”
I gave her a salute and headed upstairs again.
CHAPTER FIVE
PAPER TOWERS
The library was on the second floor of the House, not far from my room. It had two floors—the first held the majority of the books and a balcony wrapped in a wrought-iron railing held another set. It was a cavalcade of tomes, all in immaculate rows, and with study carrels and tables thrown in for good measure. It was my home away from home (away from home).
I walked inside and paused for a moment to breathe in the scent of paper and dust—the perfumes of knowledge. The library was empty of patrons as far as I could tell, but I could hear the rhythmic squeal of a library cart somewhere in the rows. I followed them down until I found the dark-haired vampire shelving books with mechanical precision. I knew him only as “the librarian.” He was a fount of information, and he had a penchant for leaving books outside my door.
I cleared my throat to get his attention. He looked up, eyes narrowed, probably prepared to give me a lecture about making noise in the library. (A set of rules inside the door warned, among other things, that cough drops were required for patrons with scratchy throats. The librarian wanted no aural interruptions within his domain.)
But when he realized it was me, he held up a hand and ducked down to the bottom shelf of his cart. He popped up again with a bundle of books, which he hefted toward me.
“For you,” he said. I scanned the titles; they were, unfortunately, more books of vampire politics. He’d already given me lots of books on vampire politics, which seemed to barely scratch the surface of the number of books actually written on vampire politics. We were a political bunch, and we apparently liked to ruminate on that particular obsession.
But he was a man who could help me with my current problem, so I didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Thank you,” I said, and took the books from him. “A question—what can you tell me about the lake siren?”
The librarian made a disdainful sound, then abandoned his cart to head down the aisle.
I stuck the books into an empty spot on a shelf and trailed him down the aisle and across the room to the staircase that led up to the balcony.
I followed him up, the staircase so narrow and steep my nose was practically in the