Read Online Zen and the Art of Vampires by Katie MacAlister - Free Book Online Page B

the loss of a loved one. “Poor man. I had no idea. . . . I’m so sorry.”
    â€œIt is no excuse for Kristoff scaring you, but it does, I hope, explain something about his mental state,” he said, opening the door, which he’d managed to get unlocked. He flicked on a tiny penlight, flashing it around the room. “Let us hope we find something here to explain the unusual situation you say has clasped you in its grip.”
    We made a fast search of the bookshop, but there wasn’t much to be found. Alec went through the papers stuffed willy-nilly into the drawers of an old rolltop desk that served as the owner’s filing cabinet, while I examined each book on the rack where I’d nabbed my two books, flipping through the remainder to see if anything had been tucked inside any of them.
    Twenty-five minutes later we returned to the car to find Kristoff leaning against its side, his arms crossed, his expression hard but relatively neutral. He was silent as we approached.
    â€œThere was nothing,” Alec admitted with defeat. “But I do not discount what Pia has told us. I think we should investigate the matter further.”
    Kristoff came close to rolling his eyes, I could tell. “We have wasted enough time, Alec. We have few enough hours before dawn to reach the council as it is—”
    Alec interrupted him, speaking in German.
    I gnawed on my lower lip for a moment as the two men argued. I had a decision of my own to make—did I want to stick around and try to make them see reason, or did I want to get far, far away from the scary Kristoff? There was nothing to guarantee that the next time he felt like throttling me, he would stop before actually killing me.
    Unbidden, my eyes went to Alec. Although Kristoff had more of a stark, visceral physical appeal, Alec was certainly no slouch in the looks department. If anything, he could be thought the better-looking, since his expression was warmer and friendlier.
    I thought back to the twenty-five minutes we’d spent together in the musty darkness of the bookshop. Twice he’d brushed against me as we searched, and once, as he leaned over to fetch a scrap of paper, his arm pressed against my breast. He’d apologized and moved away, but I could still feel the sensation.
    My fingertips touched my neck. Then again, I could still feel the steely grip of Kristoff’s fingers.
    I shook my head sadly. Even if there was a spark of interest in Alec to be breathed to life, the whole situation had a bad feeling about it. The sane thing, my down-to-earth brain pointed out, would be to leave now and not look back.
    I did just that, not stopping to say anything, just spinning around and racing down the alley to the lighted square filled with people who would keep me safe. There was a shout that followed me, but I made it to the crowd without being stopped, breathing a sigh of relief that had far too much regret in it to make me happy. “Second time lucky, I guess,” I said to myself as I squirmed my way through the pulsing crowd to its center.
    â€œMadam! Madam, please, you wait!”
    A slight tug at the back of my shirt had me looking over my shoulder. The tiny Frenchwoman whom I’d bumped into earlier was squeezing her way between couples, a worried look on her face.
    â€œIt is you; oh, I am so glad. I must speak to you. It is very important.”
    I was so relieved to see her I could have whooped. “Likewise! But maybe we should get out of here. I can barely hear you over the music.”
    â€œWhat?”
    I bent toward her and repeated the suggestion. She nodded and pointed to the café where I’d sent the ghosts. It was still open, serving the late-night crowd. I hesitated a moment, not wanting to remain out in the open where Alec and Kristoff could find me, but at the same time not wanting to face the ghosts when I was no closer to helping them. In the end, I chose the latter as the least