Spinebreaker (Library Gate Series Book 2) Page 6

  She looked down at the watch on her wrist. A little after two. She should be back by four-thirty. With time moving faster in One Thousand and One Nights than in the library, it shouldn’t be an issue. Still, she shouldn’t lose track of time. She opened the book to around the same place as last time but didn’t bother to make sure it was exact. The genie would find her.

  She waited for the gate to open and then stepped through it. She’d been in so many different landscapes and worlds that the dusty town felt comfortingly familiar. Almost.

  She looked around her. “Genie!” she called.

  “I have a name, you know.”

  She turned, and, as she did, she was no longer standing in the city street where she’d been moments before. She was inside a stone structure lit with torches and oil lamps. The room was draped in lush fabrics and silk cushions covered the floor. Sitting on one of the cushions was the genie. Two beautiful women sat at his feet—two scantily-clad women. A third sat in his lap with her arms draped around his shoulders.

  “Hello, Sorceress,” the genie said.

  “I have a name, too.” She looked down at the women with distaste. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. He wanted her to see him with these women.

  “Why, Sorceress. You seem to think that I mean some offense. This is merely my place of business.”

  “You work in a… brothel?” she asked, her nose wrinkling.

  “I own a brothel. Considering the restrictions you placed on me, I had to find a means to support myself that didn’t involve hurting others. I am now in the boon business. A freelancer, you could say. One of my customers made enemies of the wrong people. He traded this establishment for my assistance.”

  April gestured to the women. “I suppose this is a benefit of owning a whorehouse?”

  The genie’s eyes flashed. “I do not pay for sex.”

  One of the women at his feet spoke. “This homely girl has insulted you. One word and I will pluck out her eyes.”

  “Oh, please,” April said. “I have dealt with scarier things than you in the last few weeks.”

  The genie smiled. “Though the idea of the two of you fighting over me is intriguing... I think we will pass. I see it makes you uncomfortable.” He looked down at the women. “Ladies, leave us.”

  Reluctantly, the women stood and walked away, shooting daggers at April with their eyes. April resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the one who had threatened to kill her.

  “Do you have them enchanted or something? Sex slaves?” Ick.

  “I said I don’t pay for sex. I should elaborate and say also that I only sleep with those who want to sleep with me. There’s no fascination for me in force. Anyway, I believe enchanting them against their wills would break your restriction.”

  April raised a skeptical eyebrow. “They were all over you.”

  “Do you find it so hard to believe?”

  She did not, so she chose to say nothing rather than stroke his already enflamed ego.

  “The truth is, the man who owned this establishment before me deserved every bad thing coming his way. He treated these women like dogs—most of them kidnapped or purchased as children, beaten and intimidated for even the slightest infractions. He was a man who enjoyed force… and attracted clientele with similar tastes.”

  “So these women are lucky that you’re their master now and not him?”

  His eyes flamed once more. “I am no one’s master. These women are free to come and go as they wish. They wept with joy when I first walked in here. Life on the street as a prostitute is as good as a death sentence.” He paused. “It doesn’t hurt that I am a generous and skilled lover.”

  She snorted.

  “Jealous?”

  “No. I could care less what you do.” It was true. She really didn’t care. She hadn’t come there for a relationship.

  Still, the genie smiled as though she were lying. “Why did you come?”

  She crossed her arms. “Why do you keep coming into my dreams?”

  His smile grew even wider. “So you’re dreaming about me.”

  Her cheeks colored. “Only because you’re doing something to make me dream about you,” she said, then faltered. “Right?”

  He laughed. “No. Intriguing as the thought is of entering your dreams is, the wall between your world and mine is impenetrable. I cannot cross over, even in the dreamworld.”

  He rose and began walking towards her, lithe as a tiger, then too quickly he was behind her, his breathe tickling her ear. “Which leaves me to wonder, why is a strange foreign sorceress dreaming of me?”

  His breath raised goose flesh on the skin of her neck. It was like sitting close to a fire on a cold night when a sudden wind sends a wave of heat towards you.

  “I… I have been stressed lately… dealing with the gate…”

  “Hmm…” he breathed in, inhaling her scent. “I can sense the truth of that. But is that the real reason you came here?” His lips touched her skin.

  “No,” she gasped.

  “Also true,” he said, the words tickling her skin. He pulled the tail of her shirt from her skirt, then his hands were on her bare flesh, searing her. It was partially pleasant, partially painful… though mostly pleasant.

  His hands pushed up her bra, brushing against her nipples before moving down towards the waistband of her skirt. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “I do not force anyone,” he said. “You want this, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said. She licked her lips. They were dry, chapped.

  “Do you believe that I am enchanting you, or otherwise impairing your judgement?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” His hands descended over her skin.

  ~~~

  “I still don’t know your name,” April said. She lay with her head resting in his navel.

  “Why?” He lay with his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re not falling in love with me, are you?”

  “No way. This is the equivalent of an inter-world booty call.”

  “Booty call?”

  “Sex, no strings attached.” She wondered if he would understand the expression, so she added, “no emotions, no commitments.”

  He shifted and ran the tips of his fingers along her shoulderblades, making her shiver. “Hmm. I like no commitments. But sex without emotion seems pointless. It wasn’t emotionless for you.” He did not phrase this as a question, and because she didn’t want to get into it any more than she already had, she didn’t respond.

  After a few minutes he spoke again. “Was it what you dreamed of?”

  She shrugged, remembering how all of her dreams the previous week had ended in fire. “I thought it would burn more.”

  He smirked. “So it is fire you seek. But for destruction or purification?”

  She looked at him. “Which do you offer?” She reached out to touch him, but he grabbed her wrist. It felt like being branded with hot iron.

  “Hey,” she said, and tried to pull her hand away, but he held fast.

  “Is there a difference?” he held on a moment longer before releasing her. She ran her fingers over her skin expecting a blister in the shape of his fingers, but her skin was pale and blemish free.

  “That was mean,” she said. “And I thought you couldn’t hurt anyone!”

  “I didn’t hurt you. It was all in your head.”

  He was right about that. The searing pain had already faded so that she couldn’t remember it at all except for the fact that it existed.

  “It was still mean!”

  “You needed to feel the danger,” he said. “I will be your lover but you need to leave your problems outside these walls.”

  “Fine.” She was about to get up and put her clothes on, but then a familiar voice from the doorway made her blood run cold.

  “April! What in god’s name—”

  “Dorian!” April pulled one of the silks over herself. “What are y
ou doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” he said. His face was red and splotchy. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  She winced. She hadn’t looked at the timepiece since she’d arrived. Damn it. It couldn’t be that late, though. “It is…” she looked surreptitiously at the watch. “Four forty-five.” Crap. Had time really gone that fast?

  “Turn around so I can get dressed,” she said.

  “Sorceress,” the genie said. “Is this boy bothering you?” he smiled tauntingly at Dorian and rose without covering himself. It made the whole situation more awkward, if it was possible.

  “Me bothering her? You’re the one taking advantage of her!”

  “Taking advantage? She came to me.”

  April shot the genie a hard look. “Leave him alone. I need to go.”

  The genie shrugged. “As you wish. I’m here, whenever you need me.” He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers. She got the feeling the kiss was more for Dorian’s benefit than hers.

  The genie walked out through the door the women had used earlier, leaving her alone with Dorian.

  “Well, turn around,” she said.

  He did, crossing his arms over his chest. She pulled on her clothes. After a few minutes of excruciating silence she said, “Well, aren’t you going to yell at me?”

  “You know I never had to chase Mae around strange cities, finding her in the arms of degenerates! You know I had to ask around about your friend to try and figure out where you were? Can you imagine my embarrassment when they said he was the owner of a brothel!”

  She rolled her eyes at his diatribe, but it was better than the judgmental quiet.

  After she was dressed, they walked into the street. Dorian seemed to know the way back to the gate, so she followed him. “What do you see in that preening peacock anyway?”

  “Peacock?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “You see how he’s always adjusting himself”—he said this word with a look on his face that suggested he’d just tasted something sour—“and walking around without trousers on…”

  No. It couldn’t be… could it? “Are you... jealous of him?”

  “Of course I’m not jealous!”

  She stopped walking. “Oh, my goodness,” she said, stopping herself from laughing. “Angel-faced Dorian Gray is jealous!”

  “I said I wasn’t jealous.”

  “Jeez, I’m sorry—”

  “Please just… don’t.”

  She fell into silence. She hadn’t realized how much he disliked the genie. He sulked all the way back to the gate. He barely acknowledged her when she said goodnight.

  Chapter Five

  Gram was meeting a friend for lunch, so April only saw her for a few minutes. Again, she didn’t comment on April’s sleeping so late except to ask if she was feeling all right.

  After Gram left, April thought about going back to bed, but decided to eat instead. As she pulled out the ingredients to make a peanut butter and banana sandwich, she noticed the letter Gram had been writing the previous day. It sat on top of Gram’s recycling pile, which she meant to recycle every week but usually forgot about.

  April picked up the letter. Underneath it was an application form and an envelope addressed in Gram’s no-nonsense cursive. The paper was filled entirely on the front and half on the back.

  I feel silly writing this letter to you. There are so many people who have it worse than me. So far I’m living pain free. It feels selfish to ask for this, to take this opportunity away from someone who really needs it, maybe someone who hasn’t had as many blessings in life as I have.

  April snorted. That was Gram for you. Not only had she fought cancer—twice—but she’d lost her only son and daughter-in-law to an automobile accident. She hadn’t been exactly wealthy, either. She and Grandpa had worked longer than most people had to, scrimping away their tiny savings that had been obliterated in a matter of months when Gram’s insurance refused to cover her treatment. Only Gram would still say she was “blessed.”

  It’s because of one of those blessings that I decided to write this after all. My granddaughter, April, lives with me. Her parents died when she was a child. When I was diagnosed with cancer, she quit school to come home and care for me.

  Maybe I should have led with the cancer part. I was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago. I beat it the first time, but now the doctors say it’s reoccurred and has “metastasized.” There’s nothing they can do. Isn’t that the pits?

  Beating cancer wasn’t cheap. I had a small amount of savings to leave to April when I died, but the insurance company refused to pay my bills so that’s gone. What did April do? She got a job, and slowly she’s getting us out of debt.

  Despite all the world has thrown at her, April has remained hardworking and positive.

  Now, I have nothing left to leave her except the house we live in, and that isn’t much. But if I could, I’d love to leave her one last memory. We’ve always spoken about going to Europe—Paris, Rome, someplace in the Alps. Really, we’re not picky. The most important thing is that it’s a shared experience.

  So that’s my wish. I would love to be able to take my granddaughter on one trip together. She deserves it.

  April’s vision blurred before she could read Gram’s signature at the bottom. Gram shouldn’t be worrying about her… but it was so much like her to do so. Of course, April didn’t deserve a trip to Europe, not after what she’d done… but she’d die before she let Gram know that.

  April picked up the envelope and the entry form, both of which Gram had already filled out.

  What the hell. She folded the letter and the entry form into thirds and slipped them into the envelope and started searching for a stamp. She’d slip it into the outgoing mail at work.

  ~~~

  April sat at the reference desk, Randall sat in a nearby armchair. They’d spent a week with their intensive regime against the ink rot, and while she was tired, she no longer woke up in the morning feeling like she’d been in a street fight the night before. Dorian was right, she had gotten stronger.

  She would have to thank him—and apologize. He’d been right. Taking it slower than she would have liked made her more effective, and now she could help more people. Not that she planned to slow down. She’d keep pushing herself, improving until she could restore the black books.

  She gazed at the students studying at the tables and felt… peaceful. Not the same as before, but like she could live with the way things were, with what had happened to Andre.

  The phone rang. “Third floor reference.”

  “Hello again, Ms. Walker.”

  She sighed. “Thaddeus, I really don’t have time for this right now. Can’t you just leave me alone?”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I guess you’ve taken time to consider my offer, then.”

  “I have,” she said, though she hadn’t had much of a chance to think about it.

  “And?”

  She thought. This could be her ticket out of all this, couldn’t it? She could turn her back on the Werner Room, on the gate, on all of it. Then she wouldn’t have to be the one making all the decisions.

  But then she thought of the boy in the meadow, of Arthur Dimmesdale, and all the other people she had saved. Who would protect them?

  “No,” she said, and it was possibly the hardest syllable she’d ever had to say. “My answer is still no.”

  “I see. That is regrettable.” Pause. “Goodbye, Ms. Walker.”

  Her hand shook as she replaced the phone on its cradle.

  Randall looked up at her and smiled at the look on her face. She smiled back. She returned to her computer work.

  “Hello?”

  She looked up from her computer to see the source of the voice. Rico, Andre’s son, stood in front of the desk.

  “Rico,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  Rico shrugged. “I’m here to pick up my dad’s stuff.”


  “Oh, right. Becky has it.” She picked up the walkie talkie, surprised by how damp her palms were. “Becky? Andre’s son is here to pick up his things.”

  “I didn’t even see him walk by,” Becky said. “I’ll bring the box upstairs. I could use a vacation from the children’s desk.”

  April stifled a groan. She’d hoped she could send him downstairs. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. She placed the walkie talkie back in its cradle.

  She looked at Rico and tried to smile. “Where’s your mom?”

  “At home.”

  “She sent you here to pick up your dad’s things?”

  He shrugged. “She said it wasn’t worth the effort to pick them up. I came here by myself.”

  “Oh.”

  April tried to return to the spreadsheet she’d been working on, but her vision kept going out of focus. She wondered what was taking Becky so long.

  “Is that The First Adventure of Braddy Evers?” Rico asked, pointing to the pedestal.

  “Yes,” April said, relieved to have something to talk about. “It’s a first edition copy.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means this was one of the first copies ever printed. Are you a Braddy Evers fan?”

  He nodded and licked his lips. “Dad used to read it to me when I was little.”

  “Oh,” she said, and because she couldn’t think of anything else, “You should come back on Braddy Evers Day. It’s going to be lots of fun.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Rico said, but he didn’t seem interested. “Ms. Walker… Can I ask you a question?”

  She winced. His tone of voice indicated he wasn’t going to ask for more info on Braddy Evers Day. “Of course.”

  “Do you know where my dad is?”

  Time seemed to freeze for a second. Of all the things that Rico might have asked her, this seemed to be the worst possibility. Did he know something? How could he? She tried to keep her face neutral. “No, hon. Why would you think I do?”

  Rico looked disappointed. “I don’t know. You looked scared the first time you saw me, and you were gone the week after he went missing.” He paused, then said earnestly, “I won’t tell my mom where he is. I just want to ask him why he left.”