Lilith Saintcrow: The Demon's Librarian

But good luck getting Paul to change his mind, now that he'd decided the sheela was the one with access to Halston's books. He was the Malik.

Well, he told me to watch the head librarian. I'll watch her. And if I get proof she's doing something she shouldn't, I'll take it to Paul. It's all I can do.

She helped the mountainous teacher take the padding off, smiling and swiping at her sweating forehead with the back of one pretty hand. Damn, she's cute. Not just cute, but seeing her work a heavy bag is pretty damn striking. I've never seen a woman do that.

She disappeared into the woman's locker room, and Ryan decided he'd better find a place up the street to watch the front of the gym. It wouldn't do to alert her prematurely, unless Paul had done so already.

Probably. Damn Malik.

No, he was far from the worst. Ryan retreated down the street, finding a convenient doorway. Who is this woman? She reeks of sorcery and trains like a good Malik at the gym. And what else is she doing?

It took another half-hour before she came out, calling a goodbye over her shoulder. Her hair was braided back in a thick, damp rope, and she set off down the street at a good clip, long legs in her slacks, her canvas bag hitched up on her shoulder. She seemed a little easier in her skin now, a little more relaxed. The burning smell of sorcery had faded. She'd worked off some adrenaline. Enough remained to taunt him, sliding through his nose and into his brain in a way he should be very wary of. If she triggered his instincts things would get really messy.

Very interesting. Who are you, sweetheart? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were up to something. But you're definitely a skin, you're not even a genetic witch. What's going on here?

It wasn't entirely out of the question. Non-Malik hunters showed up every once in a while and were brought in or eliminated. But she looked altogether too pretty and delicate to go running around after skornac. She was a girl, too. The female Malik did research, the males did the hunting, world without end, amen. Women were altogether too precious to waste, especially female Malik. Besides, hunting would put them in contact with the Drakul, and Drakul tended to get highly possessive over females they protected. Couldn't have a Drakul protecting just one woman when they were supposed to be protecting whatever Malik they were assigned to.

Ryan realized he was trailing her too closely. Not only that, the demon was silent inside his head, focused hungrily on the sway of the librarian's hips. Librarian? She looks too cute to be a librarian. Don't they usually wear thick glasses and their hair in buns?

It took a good six blocks before she finally climbed the steps to an apartment building. It was the work of a few moments for Ryan to scale the building next door and take a look from the roof, waiting to give her time to go up stairs or an elevator—no, not on this side, there were no lights on here. He made it to the other side and looked down into the alley, saw a few lighted windows, and his eyes widened in shock.

Bingo. What the hell?

It had to be her window. He could see movement inside. She was probably taking her coat off and laying her bag down; but that wasn't what made him freeze in shock, staring at the squares of glass with warm golden glow leaking out. No, what made him stare was the thin layer of warding along her window, subtle and effective, blended into the physical structure of the building, on the window right over a fire escape. There were a few plants in pots out on the fire escape, hardy stuff like rosemary. He wondered with a sudden vengeance what the inside of her apartment looked like.

Well, Paul did ask me to watch her. So I'm watching her. End of story.

But how the hell did she have warding on her windows? No wonder she reeked of sorcery, she was practicing. But she wasn't a witch, didn't have the smell of incense and caramel-sweet blood that genetic witches had. Self-trained and practicing, and she had access to either a Teacher or a cache of sorcerous texts—and given that they were looking for Halston's library, and this librarian worked in the building Halston had designed, built, and worked from… well.

Paul was wrong. Wait until I tell him. He'll never live this down, chasing a sheela while I find the real hunter. But damn, she looks so small and delicate. And I'd be willing to bet that Paul was confused by the sheela. He's only a skin and vulnerable to them.

The demon was still unwontedly silent, settled down and unblinkingly focused on the librarian's window. What's your name, honey? And why are you going out looking for trouble and training to kick ass? Hmmm? This is a mystery, and I like mysteries. Just call me Nancy Drew.

The demon was altogether too quiet, a laser-pointed intensity that rarely happened unless he was hunting. Why? The demon part of him generally didn't pay much attention to females unless they were escorts or breeders. Sex was a reward, used to keep the gears running smoothly, and you never saw the same girl twice. Especially if it was a Malik female who had volunteered to breed; the possessive instincts were just too damn strong. It was a good thing the demon inheritance was recessive in females, coming out only in sorcerous talent; otherwise things could have gone very badly for the Order.

And the females had their humanity, their souls, too; the Drakul males were born without them and trained to disregard the lack.

None of which answered his question: Why was the demon part of him sitting up and paying attention now?

He saw shadows moving. What was she doing? He'd have to get a better vantage point, and there was the fire escape right there. Tempting, tempting, he couldn't see any traps and was halfway down the side of the neighboring building before he had a second thought. Did he want to possibly alert her to his presence?

Dammit, I'm Drakul, I'm more than capable of staying invisible even if she's a talented beginner. I want a look at what's she's doing, and a closer look at that warding on her window. It's my job, isn't it? Business and pleasure, and I haven't had both in a long time. Hell, I haven't even had the latter in a long time.

The fire escape was a surprise, well-oiled and silent, he went slowly and reached the fifth floor ready to be absolutely invisible. He crouched and peered in the window, glad of the darkness that would keep him from being seen if she looked out. But she wasn't looking out.

He could see a slice of her television screen from this angle if he focused just right, playing a sepia-toned movie. That was surprising, but even more surprising was the vision of the librarian, in loose paint-splattered sweats and, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, bopping around a neat, clean yellow-and-white kitchen. Her stereo throbbed something that Ryan identified, his eyebrows raising, as Oingo Boingo's Dead Man's Party. So she was a retro chick.

She'd obviously stretched out and was engaged in dancing while she made herself dinner and the TV screen flickered. Damn. She can move. Her ponytail switched back and forth as she sang along, chopping something and occasionally waving a cleaver for emphasis. Be careful with that knife, sweetheart. Wouldn't like to see you get hurt. He leaned forward, watching that long, pretty ponytail swing. How can someone so short work a heavy bag like that? And why didn't Paul think she was involved, why did he fixate on the sheela?

He got too close, not paying attention. The warding on her window suddenly sparked, pulled into taut singing alertness by his nearness. Goddamn, that's demon-specific warding! How the hell did she learn to do that?

But the most amazing thing was her reaction. The librarian whirled, her ponytail floating as she turned with a sweet economy of motion and scooped up another knife from the counter—a knife whose blade glowed a harsh, hurtful blue that drilled right through his eyes and into his brain. He barely had the presence of mind to vanish, his body moving with the ease of inhuman speed and long training, before she ripped her window open and the blue radiance from the knife shone out over the fire escape platform.