My Special Writer

Of course, I should elucidate at this juncture that Jake doesn't look like a monster, at least not in the common red membrane and horns sense. Perhaps he does on another plane of being, but like Brad, me, and all the other immortals roaming on the planet, Jake wore a human veil now.

One that peeked like James Cusack.

Seriously. No prank. The archdemon constantly alleged he didn't even recognize who the entertainer was, but none of us acquired that.

"Ow," I mumbled irritably. "Let me go."

Jake acquited his grip, but his gloomy eyes however glinted dangerously. "You look nice," he said after a moment, seeming amazed by the admission.

I yanked at my sweater, untangling it from where his hand had rumpled it. "You have a crazy way of demonstrating your admiration."

"Really nice," he proceeded thoughtfully. "If I didn't realize any better, I'd say you—"

"—shine," whispered a voice behind the demon. "You sparkle, Daughter of Lilian, like a star in the dusk sky, like a diamond glowing on the bleakness of eternity."

I startled in shock. Jake cut a quick glimpse to the orator, not wanting his monologue halted. I further gazed, not liking an unrequested angel in my lodgings. Scholes simply grinned at both of us.

"As I was saying," clasped Jake, "you peek like you've been with a decent mortal."

"I did a favor for Brad."

"So this isn't the beginning of a new and better habit?" "Not on the salary you pay me."

Jake groaned, but it was all aspect of a habit between us. He would chastise me for not taking my commitment exceptionally, I'd give a limited funny gags in return, and the status quo would restart.

Like I explained, I was something of an instructor's beloved.

Gazing at him now, nonetheless, I could glimpse no further pranks would commemorate.

The allure that had so enthralled my buyers today had no effect on these two. Jake's countenance was drawn and severe, as was Scholes's, despite the angel's normal sardonic half-smile.

Jake and Scholes hung out jointly regularly, especially when alcohol was involved. This baffled me since they were seemingly locked in some kind of tremendous, celestial toil.

I'd once inquired Jake if Scholes was a fallen angel, which had evoked a generous giggle from the demon. When he'd extricated from the hilarity, he'd told me no, Scholes hadn't fallen. If he had, he wouldn't technically be an angel anymore.

I hadn't certainly found that explanation satisfying and ultimately decided the two must linger concurrently because there was no one else in this district who could connect to an existence stretching back to the beginning of time and creation.

All the rest of us inferior immortals had been mortal at some point before; higher immortals like Jake and Scholes had not. My centuries were a mere blip on their timeline.

Whatever the motives for his presence now, I didn't like Scholes. He wasn't horrible like Guane, but he ever appeared so arrogants and scornful. Maybe it was an angel stuff.

Scholes also had the most unusual sense of humor I'd ever discerned. I could never explain if he was making mockery of me or not.

"So what can I do for you boys?" I inquired, hurling my purse on the counter. "I've got places to be tonight."

Jake fixed me with a narrow-eyed peek. "I need you to tell me about Guane."

"What? I already did. He's an asshole." "Is that why you had him killed?" "I—what?"

I froze where I'd been analyzing through cupboard contents and gradually turned over to glance back at the duo, half anticipating some trick. Both faces were in earnest, staring me.

"Killed? How…how does that work?" "You confide me, Georgie."

I winked, abruptly knowing where this was getting on. "Are you accusing me of slaying Guane? And wait…this is crazy. Guane isn't late. He can't be."

Jake started pacing, his voice exaggeratedly polite. "Oh, I assure you, he is absolutely dead. We found him this dawn, exactly before sunrise."

"So what? He died of sun exposure?" That was the only way I'd ever learned a vampire could perish.

"No. He perished because of the stake wedged into his heart."

"Ew."

"So are you willing to confide me who you got to do it, Georgie?"

"I didn't bring anyone to execute it! I can't even—I don't just comprehend what this is about. Guane can't be dead."

"You conceded to me previous night you two got in a fight." "Yes…"

"And you jeopardized him."

"Yeah, but I was joking…"

"I guess he notified me you declared something about him never reaching near you again?"

"I was mad and angry! He was terrifying me. This is crazy. Likewise, Guane can't be dead."

That was the only piece of senses I could hold to in all of this, so I kept reiterating it to them and to myself. Immortals were, by description, immortal. End of story.

"Don't you comprehend anything about vampires?" the archdemon interrogated curiously.

"Like that they can't die?"

Amusement twinkled in Scholes's hazy eyes; Jake found me less amusing.

"I'm inquiring you one final time, Katharina. Did you or did you not have Guane slain? Simply answer the question. Yes or no."

"No," I announced truly.

Jake stared at Scholes. The angel surveyed me, his thin blond fur plunging forward to partially cover his countenance.

I understood then why Scholes was along for the ride tonight. Angels can often discern reality from tales. Finally, he shook smartly to Jake.

"Glad I passed the trial," I mumbled.

But they weren't paying attention to me anymore. "Well," observed Jake grimly, "I guess we realize what

this means."

"Well, we don't realize for sure…" "I do."

Scholes offered him a significant glimpse, and some seconds of stillness passed. I'd constantly speculated the two were disseminating mentally in such periods, something we minor immortals could not do unassisted.

"So Guane's certainly dead?" I inquired.

"Yes," let out Jake, recalling I was there. "Very much so."

"Who annihilated him then? Now that we've deduced it wasn't me?"

The two stared at each other and shrugged, neither answering. Lenient parents, both of them. Scholes brought out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. Lord, I disliked it when they got this way.

Ultimately Jake let out, "A vampire hunter." I gaped. "Really? Like that girl on TV?" "Not exactly."

"So where are you getting on tonight?" asked Scholes pleasantly.

"To Gabriel Loftbrok's signing. And don't deviate the topic. I need to infer about this vampire hunter."

"Are you going to sleep with him?"

"I—what?" For half a moment, I reckoned the angel was interrogating me about the vampire hunter. "You mean Gabriel Loftbrok?"

Scholes puffed out smoke. "Sure. I mean, if I were a succubus obsessed with a human writer, that's what I'd do. Also, doesn't your aspect always want additional celebrities?"

"We've already earned surplus of stars," Jake said in an undertone.

Sleep with Gabriel Loftbrok? Nice anguish. It was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever listened to. It was stunning. If I assimilated his being force, there was no notifying how lengthy it'd be until his successive edition came out.

"No! Of course not."

"Then what are you going to do to get noticed?" "Noticed?"

"Sure. I mean, the gentleman possibly glimpses lots of enthusiasts on a usual basis. Don't you wish to stand out in some way?"

Shock scrubbed over me. I hadn't even evaluated that.

Should I have? My jaded personality rendered it difficult to find satisfaction in numerous things nowadays. Gabriel Loftbrok editions were one of my limited escapes.

Should I admit that and strive to relate with the novels' author? Earlier today, I'd teased run-of-the-mill fans. Was I about to become one of them?

"Well…I mean, Walter will possibly introduce the staff confidentially to him. I'll sort of rack out then."

"Yes, of course." Scholes put out the cigarette in my kitchen sink. "I'm sure he never earns the chance to meet bookstore management."

I opened my maw to revolt, but Jake cut me off. "Enough." He bestowed Scholes another of those significant stares. "We need to go."

"I—wait a minute!" Scholes had prevailed in derailing me off the issue after all. I couldn't imagine it. "I wish to understand more about this vampire hunter."

"All you need to understand is that you should be cautious, Georgie. Very cautious. I am not kidding about this."

I gulped, heeding the iron in the monster's vocalist. "But I'm not a vampire."

"I don't care. These hunter varieties periodically pursue vampires everywhere, wishing to locate others. You could be entangled by coalition. Position downward. Avert being unaccompanied.

Dwell with others—mortal or immortal, it doesn't matter. Perhaps you can follow up on your favor for Brad and achieve some additional souls for our aspect while you're at it."

I swiveled my sights at that as the two strolled to the entrance. "I mean it. Be cautious. Maintain a low profile. Don't get

included with this."

"And," added Scholes with a wink, "say hi to Gabriel Loftbrok for me."

With that, the two left, shutting the door gently behind them. A tradition certainly, since either of them could have simply teleported out. Or blown my door apart.

I whirled to Kinny. She had glanced the proceedings cautiously from the back of my sofa, tail quiver.

"Well," I confided her, swerving. "What am I reckoned to make of that?"

Guane was really dead? I mean, yeah, he was a bastard, and I had been pretty pissed when I jeopardized him previous twilight, but I'd never certainly wished him to be truly dead. And what about this vampire hunter business? Why was I supposed to be careful when— "Shit!"

I had just glanced at my microwave clock. It coolly notified me I had to to return to the bookstore ASAP. Shoving Guane out of my brain, I hurried to my room and glanced at myself in the reflector. Kinny followed more sluggishly.

What to wear? I could simply maintain my current costume. The sweater and khakis collection looked both admirable and mild, though the pigment scheme incorporated a bit too good with my light brown hair. It was a librarian kind of clothing.

Did I wish to peek repressed? Perhaps. Like I had confided Scholes, I certainly didn't like to do anything that might summon the passionate interest of my special writer in the entire planet.

Still…

However, I recalled what the angel had explained about getting noticed. I didn't wish to be just another countenance in Gabriel Loftbrok's crowd. This was the ultimate halt on his latest voyage.

No doubt he'd glimpsed thousands of enthusiasts in the previous month, enthusiasts who dimmed jointly into a sea of bland faces, bringing in their inane remarks. I had urged the gentleman at the counter to be creative with his queries, and I hoped to conduct the same manner with my impression.

Five minutes later, I strutted in front of the reflector once more, this time clad in a silk tank top, deep violet and low-cut, paired with a flowery chiffon skirt. The skirt nearly covered my thighs and whirled when I wriggled. It would have brought in a tremendous dancing costume.

Striding into strappy brown heels, I glimpsed over at Kinny for confirmation.

"What do you think? Too sexy?" She began cleaning her tail.

"It is hot," I admitted, "but it's stylish sexy. The hair assists, I think."

I had heaved my long hair up into a romantic kind of roll, fleeing wavy latches to rim my countenance and enrich my eyes.

Temporary shape-shifting made them swerve greener than regular. Changing my mind, I allow them move back to their normal gold-and-green-flecked hazel.

When Kinny still declined to affirm how incredible I looked, I snatched my snakeskin cloak and frowned at her. "I don't mind what you reckon. This costume was a nice call."

I vacated the apartment with my copy of The Glasgow Pact and sauntered back to work, impassable to the sprinkle. Another

perk of shape-shifting. Enthusiasts milled inside the major retail district, anxious to see the man whose latest publication still monopolized the bestseller schedules, even after five weeks. I shoved past the association, making my path toward the stairs that led to the next floor.

"Young grown-up publications are over there by the wall." Wilson's familiar mouthpiece wandered nearby. "Let me know if you desire anything else."

He whirled off from the client he'd been helping, grabbed sight of me, and quickly plopped the heap of books he'd been clasping.

Clients strode back, politely staring him kneel down to fetch the books. I identified the lids instantly. They were paperbacks of Gabriel Loftbrok's former inscriptions.

"Sacrilege," I remarked. "Letting those touch the floor. You'll have to scorch them now, like a flag."

Disregarding me, Wilson gathered up the books and then showed me off out of hearing. "Nice of you to go home and change into something extra soft. Christ, can you actually bend over in that?"

"What, do you feel I'll have to tonight?"

"Well, that depends. I mean, Walter's here after all." "Harsh, Wilson. Extremely harsh."

"You bring it on yourself, Collins." He bestowed me a hesitant, pleased look just before we began clambering the stairs. "You do look fascinating, though." "Thanks. I expected Gabriel Loftbrok to catch a glimpse of me."

"Believe me, unless he's gay, he'll catch a glimpse of you. Possibly even then too."

"I don't peek excessively slutty, do I?"

"No."

"Or cheap?"

"No."

"I was going for snappy sexy. What do you think?"

"I guess I'm finished nourishing your ego. You already realize how you look."

We crested the lid of the stairs. A quantity of seats had been set up, enclosing most of the café's regular seating area and branching into portion of the gardening and maps compartment of editions.

Walter, the shop supervisor and our superior, vigorously endeavored some kind of wiring fireworks with the microphone and sound system.

I didn't understand what this structure had been used for before Star City Books walked in, but it was not a favorable forum for acoustics and vast associations.

"I'm getting on to assist her," Wilson notified me, friendly chivalrous. Walter was three months pregnant. "I'd caution you do something that doesn't pertain to crouching more than twenty degrees in any one direction.

"Oh, and if someone attempts to bring you to reach your elbows jointly behind your posterior, don't fall for it."

I bestowed him a quick poke in the ribs, almost making him relinquish the books again.

Thomas, still manning the espresso counter, prepared me my fourth white chocolate mocha of the day, and I wandered over to the geography books to gulp it while I stayed for things to pick up.

Looking beside me, I acknowledged the gentleman I'd communicated Gabriel Loftbrok with earlier. He however clasped his copy of The Glasgow Pact.

"Hey," I mumbled.

He leaped at the tone of my mouthpiece, having been immersed in a trip publication about Texas.

"Sorry," I told him. "Didn't mean to frighten you."

"I—no, you d-didn't," he faltered. His eyes examined me from head to toe in one abrupt glimpse, wavering ever so briefly on my hips and breasts but lengthiest on my countenance.

"You changed clothes." Comprehending the myriad implications behind such an admission, he added quickly, "Not that that's bad. I mean that's nice. Er, well, that is—"

His humiliation accumulating, he whirled from me and strived to awkwardly rehabilitate the Texas book on the ledge, upside down. I concealed my smile. This gentleman was extremely delightful. I didn't ride into numerous nervous gentlemen anymore.

Modern-day dating appeared to solicit men earn as enormous a sensation of themselves as probable, and unfortunately, women appeared to move for it. Okay, even I went for it periodically.

But nervous guys merited a halt too, and I determined a slight harmless toying with him would be reasonable for his ego while I waited for the signing to commence. He possibly had dreadful felicity with women.

"Let me do that," I offered, crouching across him. My hands caressed his as I snatched the book from him, replacing it carefully on the ledge, front cover out. "There."

I strode back as though to adore my handiwork, making sure I stood relatively near to him, our shoulders virtually touching. "It's crucial to hold out impressions with books," I clarified. "Image gets on a long way in this business."

He coaxed a peek over at me, still uncomfortable but steadily recouping his confidence. "I go more for content."

"Really?" I moved slightly so that we were caressing also, the fluffy flannel of his shirt rubbing my bare skin. "Because I could have vowed a moment ago you were pretty ensnared in external appearance."

His sights drifted down again, but I could discern a smile curling his lips. "Well. Several things are so stunning, they can't support but draw attention to themselves."

"And doesn't that make you inquisitive about what's inside?"

"Mostly it makes me wish to give you some developed copies."

Advanced copies? What did he—? "Gabriel? Gabriel, where—ah, there you are."

Walter turned back our alley, Wilson pursuing behind. She lighted when she saw me, and I felt my abdomen sink

out of me and slam the ground with a thud as I set two and two jointly. No. No. It couldn't be— "Ah, Katharina. I discern you've already confronted Gabriel Loftbrok."