Dead Of Night Part 5

"Thank you, Sheriff." I didn't let out the breath I was holding until he walked down the block. "After this it should be a piece of cake."

My nerves weren't going away anytime soon, so I got up and went to the corner to cross the street. Most of the antique stores that shared the same block with Mrs. Frost's shop were open, and seemed to be doing good business, thanks to all the browsing tourists. Some were shopping with kids I recognized from school, and must have been grandparents or relatives who came to Lost Lake to visit for the holidays.

I saw a CLOSED sign hanging in the front door of Nibbles and Books, and the door was locked, but Mrs. Frost was sitting at one of the cafe tables and came to let me in.

"You're right on time, Catlyn," she said, smiling as she closed the door behind me. "I was just putting together the inventory sheets for you." She took my arm in hers and started walking toward the back of the shop. "First, let me show you where you'll be-"

"Sunny? "

The shriek made us both turn around to see a wild-eyed woman standing in the doorway.

Mrs. Frost hurried over to her. "Nancy, I didn't know you were working at your shop today."

"I thought that ... I thought ... " Nancy's face crumpled, and her eyes filled with tears. "I was so sure when I saw ... "

"That's completely understandable, my dear," Mrs. Frost said gently. "Let me introduce you to Catlyn, my new employee. She'll be looking after the inventory while I'm visiting my children." She glanced at me. "Catlyn, this is Nancy Johnson. She and her husband own the shop across the street."

She must be the mother of the missing girl, I thought. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Johnson."

"Why don't you sit down, Nancy?" Mrs. Frost suggested. "I'll make a cup of tea for you."

"No, Martha, I'm not ... I'm sorry I barged in." She gave me another long look before she left the shop as quickly as she'd come in.

Mrs. Frost went to close the door and stood there watching Mrs. Johnson until she disappeared into the shop across the street. "Poor thing. She's beside herself with worry, not that anyone could blame her."

"Has there been any news about her daughter, or what might have happened to her?" I asked.

"None, I'm afraid. Her daughter has run away from home before, but never for so long." Mrs. Frost eyed me. "Do you know Sunny?"

"No, ma'am. We've never met."

"She's a sweet girl. A little headstrong and thoughtless at times, but she has a good heart." Mrs. Frost made a face. "Nancy is having a very difficult time coping, obviously, especially with her husband out searching for the child all hours of the day and night."

I nodded. "I hope she comes home soon."

"As do I, my dear. While I'm gone if you happen to see Nancy"-she seemed almost afraid to finish the statement-"behaving oddly in some way, you should call the sheriff and let him know. His number is on the list by the wall phone in the corner there." She gestured toward it. "Jim will look after her."

"Of course, I will." Hoping I wouldn't have to, I glanced through the window at the Johnsons' shop. None of the lights were on, and their CLOSED sign was still gently swaying in the door.

Mrs. Frost led me to her office in the back, where some of the clutter had been tidied up, and most of the papers removed from the top of her desk. "I've tidied up in here so you'll have some works.p.a.ce. I'd like you to work Monday through Friday, but if you have some family functions you can certainly work a shift over the weekend. I don't expect you to work on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day."

She went on to explain the simple process I was to use for taking inventory, which involved noting the shelf counts on tally sheets and then inputting the numbers into an accounting program. Mrs. Frost had me practice on one shelf, and nodded as she checked my tally. "Excellent. Once you've finished inventorying the store stock, you can begin cataloging the new stock in the back store room."

That was where we went next, and found stacks of large plastic bins filled with books.

"I've been too busy to sort through these," Mrs. Frost said, sounding slightly apologetic, "so you have your work cut out for you here."

I peeked in the bin she had opened. "Wow. Those look really old."

"Yes, they are. Before you handle any of them, please put on a pair of these." She pointed to a blue cardboard box with an open top, which contained dozens of pairs of white fabric gloves. "They'll help protect the books and your hands."

I thought of what Trick had said over breakfast. I didn't see anything crawling around in the sealed bins, but the light may have made them hide. "Could there be any bugs in them?"

"Sometimes I think silverfish and spiders could survive a thermonuclear war, but in this case I seriously doubt it," she said. "Julian was a tidy, conscientious soul who cherished his collection, and took very good care of every volume in it."

I didn't feel convinced. "I'm sure he did, ma'am, but what should I do if I find something that got past him?"

"Don't use any sprays, as they'll harm the books," she advised. "Either step on them, or bring the vacuum in my office closet with you when you work in here." She hesitated before she added, "I know how tempting it is to be surrounded by books, so you have my permission to borrow anything from the store shelves, as long as you return it in pristine condition. But because Julian's collection is so valuable, I must insist his books remain here."

"Yes, ma'am." I could just imagine my brothers' reaction to me coming home with books on demons and witches. "After I've cataloged them, do you want me to move them out to the shelves and add them to the inventory?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I have a private buyer who intends to make an offer as soon as I send the complete list of t.i.tles." She took out a small key ring, and held it out to me. "These are the keys to the all the doors in the shop, and this one"-she separated one that was smaller than the rest-"is for the security alarm system. Let's go out front and I'll show you that next."

While Mrs. Frost demonstrated how to turn the store's alarm system on and off, I felt an odd sensation, as if someone were watching us, and looked out through the window by the counter. Standing inside the door of her shop, Mrs. Johnson was watching, but she wasn't looking at Mrs. Frost or the alarm box. She was staring at me, with that same hopeless expression she'd had when Mrs. Frost had introduced us. I had to force myself to pay attention to the rest of Mrs. Frost's instruction.

"I think that's everything you need to know," Mrs. Frost said. "Do you have any questions?"

"No, ma'am." I checked the window again, but Mrs. Johnson was no longer in sight.

She also looked in that direction. "Was Nancy watching you?" When I nodded, she sighed. "I'm sorry. Don't let her frighten you, she doesn't mean any harm."

"I'm not afraid of her," I said. "But why does she stare at me like that?"

"That's right, you said you've never met Sunny." Mrs. Frost smiled sadly. "She's tall and dark-haired, and has fair skin. From a distance you probably look exactly like her."

Six.

When the airport limousine arrived a half-hour later to pick up Mrs. Frost, I helped her carry her suitcases out to the curb.

"I'll call you every Friday afternoon to check in," she said as the driver loaded the cases in the back of the van. "If there are any issues with the shop you can call the landlord. The number is on the wall list."

I frowned. "I thought you owned the building, Mrs. Frost."

"No, dear, my shop and most of the others in town are leased out by Raven Property Management. If you need anything, just call them." She gave me a quick hug. "I'll see you in January. Good luck."

I waved as the taxi drove off, and went back into the store, locking the door. It was hard not to check and see if Mrs. Johnson was staring at me again, but I thought if I pretended everything was normal she'd stop acting so oddly.

Being by myself inside the bookstore felt a little creepy, too. Without Mrs. Frost there it was dead quiet; the only sound came from the cafe's refrigerator, which hummed, and the air coming through the vents overhead, which sounded exactly like someone whispering. I had a clock radio in my room at home, and I decided I'd bring it with me tomorrow. Because Lost Lake was in the middle of nowhere, it only picked up a few country music stations, but even that would be better than working in the too-loud silence.

I took my bag of sandwiches and water bottles out of my backpack and carried them over to the cafe's refrigerator. Inside I found a bin filled with soft drinks and a small baker's box with a note on top.

Catlyn, here's something to help you celebrate your first job. Enjoy-Martha Frost.

I took a peek inside the box, which contained a packet of fancy crackers, a bunch of luscious red grapes and an elegant, paper-wrapped wedge of cheese. I didn't care much for sweets, so it was the perfect snack for me. "I like working here already, ma'am."

Once I put everything in the fridge, I went back to the office to get started. I already knew how I wanted to run the inventory, and how many shelves I'd have to count during one shift in order to be finished before Mrs. Frost returned from her trip. I wanted to allow enough time tonight to look through Julian Hargraves's books and see if he had any about vampires and vampire hunters.

Will you have any time left for me?

I think I can spare you a few minutes. Hearing Jesse's thoughts made me smile for an instant before I recalled what Mrs. Frost had said just before leaving. You didn't mention that your parents own this building.

My parents own most of the town, Catlyn.

Yes, but ... I wasn't sure why I still felt suspicious, only that I did. Did you do something to Mrs. Frost to convince her to hire me?

The only thing I could compel Mrs. Frost to do is tell me that you applied for the job, he a.s.sured me. Or I might make her forget that you did. That is all.

I felt a little better-and suddenly ashamed of myself. I'm sorry.

Don't be. I would rather have your honesty than your suspicions.

I felt a wonderful, warm sensation inside me before his thoughts ebbed away. It was difficult for us to share thoughts during daylight hours. He had told me that he spent the entire day underground, in rooms built under his parents' mansion on Raven Island to protect them from the sun's lethal rays. I knew he didn't have to sleep the entire time he was there, but until nightfall his powers were weaker and much more limited.

Mine aren't. But I was only half vampire, and like the Ravens my father hadn't changed completely. My other half was human, like my mother, and she'd pa.s.sed along to me her Van Helsing ability.

As I picked up a stack of tally sheets, I wondered for the first time what specific ability my mother had inherited from her parents. In her love letters to Dad she had mentioned being a "finder," the same thing I'd once heard Trick call Grayson. Jesse's father knew a lot about the Van Helsings, but I couldn't exactly call him and ask for more information. Like my brothers, he still thought I had amnesia.

I didn't like to think about whatever I was supposed to be. My ability to control cats and use them like bodyguards and hunting dogs already troubled me. If I wanted to, I could summon every feline in the area and use them like an army to attack whoever I wanted. Jesse's father had practically accused me of being a vampire killer.

I'm not a killer. I'm ... an inventory clerk.

I walked out to the shelves and got started on the count. I stopped only once after finishing the first shelf to retrieve a feather duster from Mrs. Frost's office-some of the books had sat undisturbed long enough to breed baby dust bunnies-but otherwise kept going until I had finished counting the entire section.

As Mrs. Frost had predicted, a few books were out of order, but I didn't find any missing. Counting the books on the lowest shelves was a little awkward, as I had to kneel on the floor, but other than that it seemed like a breeze.

I took out Gray's pocket watch. Surprised to see it was already seven-thirty, I left the clipboard on the stepladder and went to retrieve my sandwiches and Mrs. Frost's snack from the fridge. I took everything back to the office so I could call home and let my brothers know I had survived the first four hours unscathed.

Trick answered it on the first ring. "Youngblood Ranch, Patrick speaking."

"What happened to 'h.e.l.lo'?" I asked before I took a bite of my sandwich. "And why are we a ranch? I thought you were going with 'farm.'"

"I kept getting too many cold calls from tractor salesmen." He sounded amused. "How are things at the job?"

"Lots of dust bunnies and shelf shuffling, but the good news is, I still know my ABC's and can count past twenty." I reached for my water bottle. ""How did you manage with dinner?"

"According to Gray, the scorched tomato soup was slightly better than my blackened grilled cheese," he said. "He also made me promise to defrost something you made for tomorrow night."

I grinned. "I recommend the lasagna."

"I'll be waiting at the bus stop," he reminded me before he said good-bye and hung up.

Once I finished eating, I tidied up the desk and carried my trash to the big can outside the restroom, where I went to wash up. I still had to enter my counts into the computer, but I wanted to take another look at the Hargraves collection.

The overhead light in the storeroom was bright enough to work by, but the stacks of bins left hardly any s.p.a.ce to work. When I began cataloging the collection I'd have to carry a bin out to the office, or out to one of the tables in the cafe.

I put on a pair of gloves before I took down the topmost bin on one stack and placed it on the floor. The lid, held tightly in place by two hinged clamps on either end, came off with a faint pop when I released them. A musty odor rose from the books inside and made me wrinkle my nose.

Whoever had packed the bin had put the books inside carefully, arranging them in two layers with the heavier volumes on the bottom. All of the books were hard covers, although some were bound in leather and others in cloth-covered end boards. When I crouched down beside the bin, I could still read some of the t.i.tles and authors' names where they had been embossed or stamped on the spines.

"Pagan Rituals of the Fourteenth Century," I murmured. "Alchemists of France. Medieval Manifestations." After I inspected the rest but found nothing about vampires, I sat back on my heels. "Of course How to Cure Vampirism wouldn't be in the first one."

"No one before you has ever wished to cure us."

I swung around and nearly fell over, but Jesse caught me and helped me to my feet. "How did you get in here?"

His mouth curved as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "I know I should have waited, but I couldn't. Not knowing you were so close."

I couldn't help slipping my arms around him and resting my cheek against his heart. "Where did you tell your parents you were going?"

"Fishing on the lake. They believe it's my newest hobby." He kissed the top of my head before he drew me out of the storeroom. "Show me what you're doing."

I couldn't take him out into the front of the shop, where anyone walking past would see us together, but I took him into the office, and turned on the computer as I described what I'd accomplished so far.

"I've got to enter some numbers into the inventory program, but after that we can start looking through Julian Hargraves's books." I frowned as he sat down in Mrs. Frost's chair. "What are you doing?"

"If I help you, we'll have more time to look through the collection." He opened the inventory program, picked up the clipboard with my tally sheets and, after glancing over both, began entering numbers.

I almost protested, until I saw his fingers blur over the number pad on the keyboard. "Vampire show-off."

"Jealous mortal." A minute later he finished and handed the clipboard back to me as he stood. "Come and check, I know you want to."

I came around the desk and compared the tally sheets to the figures he'd put into the program. They matched perfectly, of course. "The next time I get ten pages of calculus homework, I'm making you do it."

"You'll never learn anything that way," he chided. His smile faded as he looked at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I made a face. "It's just ... Trick always says the same thing." I ducked my head. "He loves me, you know."

Jesse nodded slowly.

"And I hate him," I said flatly. "All this pretending, and scheming, and sneaking around behind his back, everything we have to go through just to have a little time together. It's not right. You don't do this to someone you love."

Jesse held out his hand. "Take a walk with me. Only for a few minutes," he added.

I scowled. "We can't go anywhere. Someone might see us together."

"Not if we go the way I came in." His eyes gleamed. "Come and I'll show you another of our secrets."

Jesse led me to the shop's back door, but instead of opening it he bent down and pressed his fingers against what looked a knot in the hardwood floor panel. The knot sank about an inch, and then he pressed two more, which did the same. As the third sank down, a four-foot square section of the floor popped up. He caught one side and pulled it up like a hatch, revealing a short ladder that led down into darkness.

"Get out of town." I could hardly believe my eyes. "You have a secret tunnel under the bookstore?"