Wild Side (Dark Side Series: Book 2)

Seventeen

"Meet Me in the Woods" by Lord Huron! I had a few songs for the next couple chapters, but couldn't choose so I'm giving you all three, starting with this catchy tune!

Until Caelan returned, my sole ally was Rowtag. Born in another century and trapped spiraling in a slow descent toward bestial madness, he wasn't a perfect match when you considered my limited resources. He didn't use the internet; those decrepit, twisted claws of his would have been of little use on any keyboard. His underlings used a respectable amount of technology, but after the cemetery incident none of them were willing to give me access to their cell phones (and no one apparently carried a laptop or lived nearby). Not that I could blame them really.

I had to resort to using a library. On any other occasion this would have been just delightful; libraries had always been good to me. I learned things. I grew. I suffered some long nights and failures but always found more answers and peace in the narrow aisles. Nothing bad had ever happened while I was inside one. Needless to say I hoped it'd stay that way. While I couldn't use anyone's phone, Rowtag did have one of the women, a dark-haired lady with a narrow nose and piercing green eyes, surrender her library card and drive me to the local institution.

Layers of intertwined, dormant ivy grew through the winter snow, climbing from the building's stone base all the way to its slate shingles. The interior held the warmth and friendly glow of centuries of knowledge and the cozy comfort only books could provide. I moved over to the front desk and the cheery, middle aged librarian manning the counter. My companion waited in the car; speed was of the essence. She hadn't spoken a single word to me yet. I was a bit nervous she'd drive off if I perused books too long.

"Where's your paranormal section?" I asked after a brief hello. Focused on the screen before him, the man gestured  without looking at the largely barren shelves a few rows down from the main hall. I moved on across, picked up a book about some war between angels and demons, then returned to the front desk. On the walk over, my fingers smoothed dogeared page corners. Finding out whether or not one-hundred-and-eighteen year old seraph Ashley Something could fall in love with her mortal enemy, aka the prince of hell, wasn't going to help me with Zakar. I glanced down at the shirtless devil on the cover, cracked the book to one tagged page, and skimmed the scene. Yeah, no. Wrong kind of happy ending.

"Where are all the books on mythology?" I asked, setting Lover's War on the counter and tapping the cover. "There's gotta be more than this." Maybe I'd come at this wrong. I was used to researching art and art history, and the odd scientific study or translated journal article. My 'read for fun' books largely consisted of historical fiction and high fantasies.

The librarian glanced up. "Are you kidding?" he said. I shook my head. He walked around the counter. We moved back to the section in question as he spoke. "Ever since werewolves tore apart West Hartford folks been reading up on the apocalypse and everything supernatural."

Back in the day the government and supernatural authorities might've gotten away with claiming some isolated incident of an escaped experiment or something, but with cell phones and news these days there'd been no concealing the footage in such a popular area. The wolves had come there for me, I reminded myself. Because of me. Those poor people. Them, the slaughtered Talon pack, Mila, James, and so many others were the reason why I had to put an end to Zakar or, failing that, put him to sleep like the denizens of Ever Isle.

"Makes sense," I agreed. "Our world got a lot bigger."

"Huge," the librarian continued. "Story after story's come out about what's hiding in the dark. You need to watch the CNN special report. It's incredible. They filmed this monster called a Dullahan. I don't even go out after sundown anymore."