blonde asked Jake from behind the counter.
“Hi. I’ll just browse. Thanks.” Jake strode past the checkout and down the center aisle. Tall shelves of books flanked him. The scent of paper, dust, and surprisingly, dampness struck his nostrils.
The early afternoon sun beamed through the picture windows lining the front of the store. Soft, harmonic music piped in from overhead, and a calm presence settled over the place.
Jake inched forward again, scanning for signs to direct him to the rare editions collection. A tall, pale-skinned guy stood in front of the self-help row but made no indication he’d heard Jake walk by.
At the last row, Jake turned right and stopped in front of a wall of tattered book spines. The sign above read, Rare Books and First Editions. He reached up and dragged his finger across each and every one on the top row. No evidence of his mark on any spines, like the internet pictures showed.
His book in question was black, though, so he passed by most of the brown leather spines in the next row. The third row held promise of success as it was nearly full of black leather books. Mostly faded and torn edges, but one caught Jake’s attention mid-way through, and he reached for it.
Toward the bottom of the narrow, tattered spine, a small version of his mark was embossed into the leather.
“Bingo.” Jake took it from the shelf and stepped back, checking both directions. Still quiet, but he spied two plush chairs in the corner and moved toward them.
The cover of the book held the full mark of Chaos gracing Jake’s arm. It looked more like it’d been branded into the leather from the smeared black lines.
He sagged into the chair and cracked open the first page. Foreign language. Great. A weird arrangement of letters and symbols, acting as a title probably, were the only markings on that first page.
The next page, only a picture of his mark. He brushed his finger over the atrocity, wondering if it’d been hand-drawn.
Smooth.
How could a mark that always led to dark meanings be meant for good? For killing the Vamps Emma had been facing these past two years?
The third page revealed more writing he couldn’t decipher, but a picture of a tall, meager guy, cloaked in a black coat filled most of the page. More unreadable writing for a few more pages. Drawings of people, phrases, and paragraphs, probably explaining who was in the drawing.
Hopefully, Cynthia would know this language. Though, it didn’t look like anything Jake had ever seen before, but he could tell it was hand written. He skimmed ahead a few pages and saw more drawings and foreign verbiage.
He tossed the book onto his lap and scrubbed his face with his hands. An awful feeling coiled around his stomach.
He tilted to the side and slid his cell phone from his front pocket. Cynthia was his best resource at this point. He pressed her contact information, and as he held the phone to his ear, he opened to the middle page.
Ring . Someone’s cell phone blared Beethoven’s Fifth through the quiet of the bookstore.
“Oh, sorry.” A hushed whisper followed the ringing. “Forgot to silence—hello?”
Funny, he heard Hello on his end of the phone at the same time.
“Cynthia?” Jake rose from his chair.
“Jake. Oh, hello. What’s—”
“I hear you. Are you at a bookstore?” He crept to the end of the aisle and looked toward the front of the store. Cynthia’s head poked out from between two aisles four up from him.
Jake held up his phone and clicked end. Five long strides brought him to Cynthia.
“Okay, now that’s plain eerie,” Cynthia said as she tucked her phone into her purse. “Just plain eerie.”
Jake laughed. “I’m thinking more like lucky right now.”
“Oh yeah? What are you doing here?”
“Looking up some things for a paper I’m working on.”
Cynthia scanned the shelves around her. “Here?”
Jake motioned for her to follow him. “Need your help, though. Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“So,
“Hi. I’ll just browse. Thanks.” Jake strode past the checkout and down the center aisle. Tall shelves of books flanked him. The scent of paper, dust, and surprisingly, dampness struck his nostrils.
The early afternoon sun beamed through the picture windows lining the front of the store. Soft, harmonic music piped in from overhead, and a calm presence settled over the place.
Jake inched forward again, scanning for signs to direct him to the rare editions collection. A tall, pale-skinned guy stood in front of the self-help row but made no indication he’d heard Jake walk by.
At the last row, Jake turned right and stopped in front of a wall of tattered book spines. The sign above read, Rare Books and First Editions. He reached up and dragged his finger across each and every one on the top row. No evidence of his mark on any spines, like the internet pictures showed.
His book in question was black, though, so he passed by most of the brown leather spines in the next row. The third row held promise of success as it was nearly full of black leather books. Mostly faded and torn edges, but one caught Jake’s attention mid-way through, and he reached for it.
Toward the bottom of the narrow, tattered spine, a small version of his mark was embossed into the leather.
“Bingo.” Jake took it from the shelf and stepped back, checking both directions. Still quiet, but he spied two plush chairs in the corner and moved toward them.
The cover of the book held the full mark of Chaos gracing Jake’s arm. It looked more like it’d been branded into the leather from the smeared black lines.
He sagged into the chair and cracked open the first page. Foreign language. Great. A weird arrangement of letters and symbols, acting as a title probably, were the only markings on that first page.
The next page, only a picture of his mark. He brushed his finger over the atrocity, wondering if it’d been hand-drawn.
Smooth.
How could a mark that always led to dark meanings be meant for good? For killing the Vamps Emma had been facing these past two years?
The third page revealed more writing he couldn’t decipher, but a picture of a tall, meager guy, cloaked in a black coat filled most of the page. More unreadable writing for a few more pages. Drawings of people, phrases, and paragraphs, probably explaining who was in the drawing.
Hopefully, Cynthia would know this language. Though, it didn’t look like anything Jake had ever seen before, but he could tell it was hand written. He skimmed ahead a few pages and saw more drawings and foreign verbiage.
He tossed the book onto his lap and scrubbed his face with his hands. An awful feeling coiled around his stomach.
He tilted to the side and slid his cell phone from his front pocket. Cynthia was his best resource at this point. He pressed her contact information, and as he held the phone to his ear, he opened to the middle page.
Ring . Someone’s cell phone blared Beethoven’s Fifth through the quiet of the bookstore.
“Oh, sorry.” A hushed whisper followed the ringing. “Forgot to silence—hello?”
Funny, he heard Hello on his end of the phone at the same time.
“Cynthia?” Jake rose from his chair.
“Jake. Oh, hello. What’s—”
“I hear you. Are you at a bookstore?” He crept to the end of the aisle and looked toward the front of the store. Cynthia’s head poked out from between two aisles four up from him.
Jake held up his phone and clicked end. Five long strides brought him to Cynthia.
“Okay, now that’s plain eerie,” Cynthia said as she tucked her phone into her purse. “Just plain eerie.”
Jake laughed. “I’m thinking more like lucky right now.”
“Oh yeah? What are you doing here?”
“Looking up some things for a paper I’m working on.”
Cynthia scanned the shelves around her. “Here?”
Jake motioned for her to follow him. “Need your help, though. Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“So,
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