Even though I didn’t want whatever legacy Felix was trying to pass down to me, after that blunder I certainly didn’t deserve it either.
Methodically, I was making my way through the library, but with the sheer amount of books the search was taking a while. I had no author name or book title, and no inventory list to search for the MSBO # and find out. For all I knew, he didn’t have the book in here at all. Or I’d fallen into another red herring. I was trying not to consider the possibility. This was the first concrete progress I’d made, and seventeen-ish days of living the same day over and over was already sapping my hope enough.
I’d probably gotten through a quarter of the library since the start of my search. Every book was a simple matter to check. I opened the front cover and glanced at the number on the first page. Unfortunately, my arms got sore quickly, and one or two days I’d had especially early deaths. There was still no rhyme or reason to when or how I died and restarted, though I’d hoped to figure out a pattern by now.
If I didn’t find this book soon, I had to assume Uncle Felix was hoping I’d rot in here, with his cryptic goddamn clues.
“Can I come in?”
I startled, whipping my head to look so fast I almost lost my balance and fell off the ladder. Zan was hovering by the closed double doors nervously wringing his hands in front of him.
This was the first time in all the versions of this day that he’d come anywhere close to me, aside from the unwelcome wake up call. I found myself… oddly OK with the development. The sudden appearance had frightened me, but didn’t throw me into a panic attack anymore. I was desensitized. My confidence in being semi-comfortable in his presence had me offering a small, tight smile and shrugging my shoulders. “It’s your house.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’ll only be here for a couple minutes.”
He shifted backward, threatening to disappear right back through the solid wood.
“Stay away from me, and I won’t be uncomfortable,” I said. My attempt to make my tone reassuring may have failed. I still sounded tense and borderline rude.
Zan accepted the offer, though. Staying on the opposite side of the library, he floated up to the top shelf and glanced along the spines of the books. Occasionally, his hand would solidify and he’d pick one up, reading a page or two before putting it back.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, and it wasn’t one hundred per cent because I was terrified of him. He was also intriguing to watch. The way his eyebrows scrunched together, the hazy strands of hair bobbing and moving with every shake of his head. If he’d been solid and not reminding me of hazy claws and piercing pain, I would have thought he was cute.
Oh, who was I kidding? I could admit Zan was cute to myself, if no one else.
“D-do you…” he said, but trailed off. “Nevermind.”
“Do I what?” I asked.
His head whipped toward me, and I flinched instinctively at the sudden motion. He cringed and floated farther back from me. “Do you know any romance n-novels?” he asked, avoiding eye contact and barely speaking loud enough for me to hear across the distance.
Romance novels. For a ghost. Why was he so sweet? My lips quirked up slightly, my heartbeat coming back to baseline after the startle. “Depends. How many sex scenes do you want to read?”
I was half teasing and half flirting, and fully invested in the way his cheeks glowed brighter than I’d ever seen them. He may have let out a tiny squeak, but I was too far away to tell. “W-well. Um. I…”
“You look like you want to read all the spice, yeah? Maybe not anything kinky like what Waylon and Bennett get up to.”
His reaction was to glow brighter, his entire body this time. He dropped the book he’d been holding onto the shelf and placed his hands in front of his crotch. The poor man thought he was being discreet. There’s only one reason for a man to do that. Since Bennett had implied Zan and Abraxas participated in events of a naughty nature, I had to assume ghosts had functioning genitals. A cock that he could make solid for brief periods of time, in the same way they could apply that effect to hands.
“Or maybe youdoexplore kinks with them. Do you like watching Waylon be railed and used? It’s definitely something.”
I wasn’t ready to admit aloud how titillating it had been to witness. Not that anyone knew I’d watched, or would remember my admission later.
Zan was at the point of near explosion, the edges of his glow wavering. A part of me thought I should be scared — antagonizing a ghost wasn’t a good idea. Ever. But Zan… he was harmless. Riling him up to get a reaction was only going to reduce him to an embarrassed, babbling mess. Not a rage-filled killer.
“S-sweet romance!” he exclaimed, not looking at me. “So sweet. No s-sex.”
I didn’t know any of those, let alone ones I’d run across in this library. Instead, I slid my ladder a few feet over and climbed down to one of the lower shelves. The cover was discreet, a sword and shield intricately wound with sunflowers. The inside of the book? Quite far from sweet. Fantasy smut was something I hadn’t expected to find among the library of a prison, but I wasn’t opposed.
When I tossed the book across the room, he hastened to catch it with one hand and managed with a chaotic dart forward. He turned over the book to look at the cover, then he glanced up. “What’s it about?”
“Read it. I bet you’ll like it, and when you do, report back to me.”
Holding the book close to him, he nodded vigorously. The temptation of watching his blush was overriding the stupid panic over inviting the ghost back to speak to me again. He wouldn’t finish the book, anyway. Not before I’d died and reincarnated, and in his memory never given him the book at all.
“Do you… need any help?” he asked, floating toward the door.
“Didn’t you come here to find reading material? Go read.”
