on, I’ll check to see if he responded.” She opened her email.
“But if that’s the case, then the messages on the wall aren’t relevant either, right? Because as far as we know, blood wasn’t consumed.”
She turned her eyes from the screen. “That’s true. There’s no reason for someone suffering from Renfield’s syndrome to write messages on walls with blood. It makes no sense.”
“So that’s out.”
“Then those cases probably aren’t related, since those are the possible reasons.” She frowned at the screen, reading an email. “Looks like I have a meeting with a vampire.”
Tatum was caught off guard. “Wait, what?”
“A clinical vampire. My acquaintance answered my email. Like I said, he specializes in clinical vampirism. He asked around, and it turns out there’s a community of supposed vampires in Chicago. He organized a meeting with one.”
“Today?”
“He said she’d be there until six. Not a lot of time left.”
“You’re not going alone,” Tatum said, incredulous.
“She specifically asked I come alone. It’s a public place.”
“No way. I am not letting you meet a vampire by yourself. That’s seriously horror movie material. What next? Are you going to say we need to split up to cover more ground?”
“You’re being ridiculous. She’s not really a vampire.”
“Does she drink human blood?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely not going alone.”
CHAPTER 15
“Are you sure this is the place?” Tatum asked, his voice hushed.
“That’s what my acquaintance said. Richard J. Daley Branch, Chicago Public Library,” Zoe said.
“Why meet in a library?”
“I wanted a public place. She suggested meeting here.”
“What’s wrong with a café?”
“You know, you weren’t even supposed to come, so I don’t know why you think you can complain about this.” Zoe’s whispers were becoming louder, and an irate reader glanced at them and frowned.
“Okay, fine. How do we find her here?”
Zoe shrugged. “There aren’t a lot of people. I’m assuming she would stand out.”
Tatum shook his head. “We should have brought a wooden stake, like I said,” he whispered as they began walking across the room, between tall shelves full of books.
He’d had lots of fun on the way, suggesting they stop next to a church to get some holy water, then repeatedly pointing out they were literally going to interview a vampire. Zoe had mostly ignored him.
Tatum inhaled, enjoying the smell. Libraries had a scent that nothing else did. Was it simply the intermingling smells of old pages, dust, adhesive, and ink? Or did the stories have a scent of their own? If you took papers and book glue and ink and mixed them together, would it smell the same? He was sure it wouldn’t. He turned to ask Zoe what she thought, but she’d drifted away to another aisle.
He was at the far end of the library when he saw the woman. She stood in an aisle full of particularly old, thick books, thumbing through an enormous tome. She was thin and so pale she was nearly white, her lips as red as . . . well, blood. Her long jet-black hair seemed to shine strangely in the shadowy light. Tatum found himself pausing, hesitant. Though the library was public, this area was as quiet as a tomb, and though he was obviously larger and armed, there was something otherworldly about her.
He approached her slowly. She gave him a brief glance as he got closer, then returned to her book.
“Excuse me,” he said.
She raised her eyes but said nothing.
“Are you Carmela Von Hagen?”
She frowned. “No.”
“Oh, right.” Zoe had told him the woman had a weird nickname. What was it? “Um . . . Night Temptress?”
The woman’s eyes widened in outrage. She marched out of the aisle, half pushing him out of her way. As she left, she muttered, “Can’t go anywhere without a pervert harassing me.”
Tatum blinked and followed her out of the aisle. He was about to chase after her when Zoe said, “Tatum.”
He glanced at her. She stood by the librarian’s desk and waved him over. He joined her.
“I think she just left,” he said.
“This is her.” Zoe gestured at the librarian behind the desk. Tatum frowned at the woman. She was short, wearing a pair of square eyeglasses, her hair a curly brown. She wore a yellow flower-patterned dress. She pursed her lips, looking at him disapprovingly.
“You’re Carmela Von Hagen?” he said.
“Yes,” the librarian piped, her voice a tad high.
“The Night Temptress?”
“That’s just my online nickname. I don’t go around calling myself that.” She sniffed and glanced at Zoe. “You were supposed to come alone.”