Disclaimer: Uber. you know golden-red haired, green eyed and cold blue eyed and raven haired heroines. They fall in love. Some villains give them some static, butt is kicked. Things turn out all right in the end. If the muse allows this will be the first in a short series. Hope ya'll like it.
She never caused any trouble. Just sat and read. And never fiction; there was the History of the Aztec Civilization, The Ancient Middle Americas, and Colin Wilson's The Occult, The Mystic Power of Runes, along with several other books in the Mystic Power series, the Mystic Power of Crystals, The Mystic Powers of the Earth and so on. She never checked out anything of course, only read, took notes, or scribbled copies of pictures.
Brynn Dobhale the head librarian of the city's Avalon Wood branch always ignored the complaints some patrons had concerning the odd looking, too pale, woman with the bruises on her face, and scabbed knuckles. When the woman began to appear the spring before, at first once a month, Brynn had her apprehensions; just out of downtown Avalon Wood had once been an upper class neighborhood. Long abandoned by the affluent it was now of a low socioeconomic status, there was an occasional transient who visited the branch, but more frequent were rowdy teenagers during the summer. Brynn was always on guard. Watchful. Thanks to budget cuts the city's library staff had been decimated, there was only her and Jimmy Merchant who worked every other day.
So when the lean woman with the bruised face first came in she was given a warm smile by the short, blond librarian with round, kind green eyes, and though her own steel blue-gray gaze was quickly averted, the librarian knew she felt welcomed.
Brynn had that kind of power, a lot of her most faithful patrons had come in unsure, wary of the world of books, and though not overtly friendly she was encouraging in her own way with small, smiles, and her soft spoken manner. She felt like she should be a guide, not a salesman, or a teacher.
The strange woman returned to the Avalon Woods branch more frequently and currently appeared twice a week. She never spoke a word to the librarian who like a little bird learning to be bold began to flutter closer and closer seemingly performing daily tasks.
Brynn was actually gathering facts, she had naturally become curious of the stranger. Her reading habits were interesting enough but the librarian grew bored of them, so she fluttered closely to catch glimpses of the woman's scarred hands, and the compellingly, sickish bruises that circled her eyes, and stained her cheeks the green-blue of old ones melding with the blue-black-violet of newer ones.
Brynn concluded that she got into a lot of fights, she was not a boxer, at least not the type who wore gloves, her knuckles crashed against the hard bones of other people's faces.
A bare-knuckle boxer.
It was an underground sport, Brynn read, nothing that could be seen on ESPN.
As for her wardrobe the woman wore a lot of black, black motorcycle boots, with round buckles on the side, black jeans and dark long sleeved shirts even in the heat of the summer, and as the winter approached she donned a black jacket with a sort of short cape on the back like the cowboys in westerns.
One day Brynn caught her with her shirt off , the jacket draped over a chair. That day she wore a short sleeved shirt beneath her jacket, her arms were as pale as her face, and there were dark markings on her arms. Tattoos. Aztec symbols like the ones from the books she browsed (Brynn had long ago grown bored with thumbing through them wondering what could be of interest).
The woman never looked away from the book she was reading as she shrugged into the jacket, she never acknowledged Brynn had been there at all.
"You should hear about the weirdos they get downtown," Jimmy said one evening near closing, which was at 8:00 pm. It was time to announce that the library would be closing soon, but the strange woman was the last patron. Brynn was debating whether or not to just go inform the woman instead of using the scratchy P.A. system.
"She's not your ordinary run of the mill weirdo," Brynn said, they were behind the from counter checking in books, scanning barcodes with little laser wands.
"Wow," Jimmy said, "Sounds like love to me."
Brynn blushed and giggled, a short musical sound that startled Jimmy, as he had never heard it before.
"You're nuts," she whispered harshly.
"I'm key-rect," Jimmy rolled his eyes, "I always knew you were kind of an oddball."
Brynn shrugged. "She's interesting."
She paused and decided to divulge her months of information gathering.
"She has these tattoos, and I think she participates in bare knuckle boxing."
It was Jimmy's turn to giggle.
"I'm serious," Brynn said.
"More like defending her spot under the bridge," Jimmy said, he was younger, barely twenty, more sarcastic, and impudent, and the person in her life that came closest to an acquaintance. They were both gay and that was the strongest aspect of their bond, he was always trying to get her to get out and meet women. Right now she suspected he was poking fun of her just a little bit, and regretted talking to him about the strange woman.
"Oh please don't say that," Brynn said, "I hope she's not homeless. That's so sad."
"I don't know what to tell you," Jimmy finished up the stack of books and began to organize them on rolling carts to go back out on the shelves, "Of course I don't approve of this·crush or whatever-"
"It's not a crush," she corrected him.
He looked doubtful. "I said whatever·maybe you should try to start a rapport with her, it can be sullen and solemn yet thoughtful or even clever."
Brynn shook her head.
Of course it was too late, the woman appeared, walking towards the counter, she held their gaze until she passed.
"Um excuse me Miss," Jimmy said.
Brynn actually gasped as the woman stopped and pinned them with her blue-gray stare, dark brows raised in suspicion.
"This month is new patron month," Jimmy gave a short, hard, swallow, "The librarian that signs up the most people for library cards gets a·prize. Do you happen to have a card?"
Her gaze left Jimmy for a second slashed at Brynn's, she knew something was up.
"No," her voice was low, hoarse, as if she barely spoke aloud.
"Well, would you like to sign up for one?" Jimmy asked brightly, "It won't take long."
"No thanks," the woman said and walked through the heavy glass door.
Jimmy turned to her with large eyes and mouthed weirdo.
Brynn let out a ragged breath. "I can't believe you. You lied."
"Me?" Jimmy asked.
"There's no such thing as new patron month," Brynn said.
"Those eyes," Jimmy said, "Sexy but dangerous, like a wild jungle cat·she ain't your type."
Brynn grinned. "And what would be my type?"
"Homey, a book lover, soft butch," he gazed off dreamily as if seeing Brynn's soul mate, "Such a cute couple."
"Speaking of weird," she said.
"Let's close this joint," Jimmy stood on his tip toes leaning on one foot, "Fred's out there."
"You go ahead, I'm right behind you," she said.
"No way," Jimmy said.
"I close every other day you're not here," she told him, "I always managed not to get snatched."
"Girl·" Jimmy frowned, outside Fred honked.
"Go on," she gave a little smile.
Jimmy practically skipped outside, she locked up behind him, and went back to the counter. She finished up with the books- she could put them away in the morning- then set the alarm, and locked up for the night.
It was a night in January, as dark, and frosty as her city would get, the moon hung in the sky like the Cheshire cat's smile left behind, she could almost see the fading outline of his body. The lighted towers of downtown looked hollow, and flat like a studio movie set.
She gathered her brown corduroy jacket around her body as she settled in her Volkswagon Rabbit. She fit the key in the ignition, turned the engine over clicked on the headlights, then her seat belt. When she looked up, her hand on the gear shift, she saw a frighteningly, familiar figure standing next to her car at the front left wheel, floating towards her driver's side window.
Brynn wanted to drive away quickly, the door was locked, the engine was on, her foot was on the brake, her hand was on the shift. She could always apologize later, she was a woman alone who did not like to take chances.
There was a curt tap on the window glass.
Brynn turned off the engine, she undid her seatbelt, opened the door.
"Yes?" her voice trembled.
"Do I scare you or something?" the strange woman asked, stooping a bit, her blue eyes glowing from the interior light, her bruises garish in the white light.
"Pardon?" Brynn asked.
"I mean if you're skittish or something I could find another place to go read," her tone was not apologetic, or even hurt, just angry and bored, confrontational.
"No of course not, its just that·" she began, she hated confrontations.
"Your boyfriend have a problem with me or something?" she asked.
"He's not my boyfriend," Brynn said, "And no. We don't have a problem with you."
"So you were just being nosy," she said.
"I'm the head librarian, I like to know a little something about my·um patrons," Brynn said, she somehow knew that she should not be afraid of the stranger, but with each word spoken she became a bit more anxious.
"So you make up bogus contests to get them to sign up for library cards," she said.
"No," Brynn stuttered, "I'm a guide, not a salesman or a teacher·Are you always so·in your face?"
"I just don't like to be low handed, you know," she said she seemed amused for a split second, "People always giving me looks like I'm something that crawled out of the sewer."
"I'm sorry," Brynn said.
"For what?" she shrugged, "You're one of the only people who don't get that look in your eyes. I've appreciated it. It's your protégé Mr. Frenchie-"
"Jimmy Merchant?" Brynn asked.
"I call him Mr. Frenchie," she said, "When I don't know someone's name I-"
The stranger stopped cold, narrowed her eyes quickly. "Anyway, that's all, sorry I bothered you."
She turned and began to walk away. Brynn watched her go, she wanted to call out to her, but what would she say after the way she had acted.
She drove home replaying the conversation in her head. She hadn't even learned the woman's name.
ó
The stranger is nothing like Nat was, she doesn't even have a car, and I'm sure she doesn't have a normal nine to five. The stranger is the type Nat would have dragged me off the sidewalk into a wet gutter to avoid. She was skittish of her own shadow, Nat was, I hope she has found some courage on the other side.
I must get to know the stranger better. I have to get off my ass and make something happen·
ó
She did not show up for two weeks, and when she did it was an hour before closing time, when the library was empty. Luckily Jimmy was not there. Brynn immediately stood and followed her to nonfiction where she had picked up a book and was settling in the darkest corner.
"Hello," Brynn announced herself.
"Hey," the stranger said, "I know you close in about thirty,·"
"It's ok," Brynn said, "I'm Brynn, by the way."
"Little hill," the stranger said.
"Yes," she brightened, "That's what my name means. Its Old English."
"I'm Hart," she said, "H-A-R-T, as in deer or stag."
She sat down at the other side of the table.
Hart shifted a little, and boldly looked into the green eyes, so wide and irresistibly close set, that wavered around, through her gaze, taking in everything about her. She was cute and prim with her blond bangs, pink sweater, suede skirt, and brown boots.
"Umm I was wondering is you'd like to go out to dinner or maybe a movie sometime," Brynn said deciding to just blurt out her mission, it was crazy, but it was what she had to do.
Then she asked her out. Hart wanted to laugh, but the green eyes were so hopeful, she forced herself to get sober and say yes.
"Then what?" she went on, "You think you can get to know a bum like me? That we can take day trips in the sunshine and meet each other's folks? Have a Holy Union, and buy a little house with her and her Volkswagon's?"
Brynn stood up abruptly. She did not know what she had been thinking. This woman was obviously too abrasive to trust with her feelings.
She turned to retreat but the other woman was up and across the table, seizing her upper arm before she could get two steps.
"Well?" she demanded turning her around violently.
"I don't know," Brynn's head fell for and shook as she sobbed.
"Look, you don't want to tangle fates with me," Hart told her, letting go of her arm, "I'm absolutely no fucking good. Muchacha malo."
Brynn sniffed. "Alright I get it," she raised her head and was handed a remarkably white, clean, hankie.
"Wipe your face," Hart said, "You're a beautiful lady. Beautiful. I gotta go."
She turned and began to walk away. Brynn had backed against some shelves, she got her footing and called out to her. "Hart," she said the name with more conviction, and emotion than she thought she could have for a stranger.
The woman turned, touched, reached, and disturbed.
"You have beauty too, you think its worthless so you let people pummel it, but its still there," Brynn said.
Hart walked towards her, nostrils flared, she grabbed Brynn by her upper arms, but that was where the violence stopped.
"You're a clever, gatita, aren't you?" she asked softly.
Brynn sniffed. "I suppose."
Hart grinned, she reached up and moved a lock of hair from Brynn's cheek, glued there by her tears.
Hart bowed her head a bit, and leaned closer, she smelled like cinnamon and honey, scents that did not match her.
"I shouldn't have come back here," she said, her lips close to Brynn's face, "I wasn't going to come back."
"Why?" Brynn asked, their breaths mingled and she felt pleasantly lightheaded.
"Because," Hart said, and kissed her.
It had been a long time since either of them had been kissed, they both shivered and fell into each other, Brynn's hand went to Hart's face, Hart's arms went around Brynn's face: an embrace they'd both fantasized about since first seeing each other that previous spring.
Brynn felt herself being pushed backwards, the table hitting the backs of her thighs, the stranger bending her, laying her on the wide wooden surface etched with grafitti.
"We shouldn't-" Brynn broke the kiss.
"Then we can do it here another time," Hart purred on top of her now, tugging at the shoulder of her sweater, kissing the skin that was revealed.
"No. I mean·um," Brynn's reasoning was broken by a shudder, "I mean we someone could come in."
"No one.." Hart murmured.
"The doors," Brynn uttered.
"Fine," Hart said curtly, "My place or yours?"
Before she answered the stranger grinned.
"Definitely mine."
"I'm not ready for that yet," Brynn wiggled off the table, she misjudge how high it was, the landing was rougher than she'd planned.
"Of course you're not," Hart straightened her coat, composed herself, "How about that dinner?"
ó
"You've got a pretty good appetite," Hart said as Brynn grinned at her around a mouthful of hamburger.
They'd ended up at Greenhorn #5, one of five hamburger stands in a citywide chain and Hart Gonzalez (Brynn had learned the stranger's last name en route) favorite place to eat.
"So you're a fighter?" Brynn asked, she wanted to give herself to the stranger, Hart Gonzalez, but she could not stop thinking of her as a stranger, and so she was reluctant.
The stand provided an eating area, a sort of car port with one heavy plastic wall. It was surprisingly warm, except for the occasional draft that cut through the air. The only other "diners" were two hulking figures grunting at each other as they shoveled burgers into their mouths.
Hart nodded. "Bloodsport, its an underground thing."
"Oh," Brynn said, "So there's wagering."
Hart stared at her cold for a second, she seemed quite frozen, then she spoke:
"Yes, my dear there is some wagering."
"Then you make a living at this?" Brynn asked, her burger finished she nibbled at a few left over lone fries left on the grease-stained wax wrapper in which she had been severed.
"Who are you the IRS?" Hart asked.
"Just curious that's all," Brynn said.
"A census taker tried to quantify me once-" Hart began and was cut off by a short giggle. She grinned and looked over her shoulders then back at her "date" as if she was surprised that bird-ish trill had come from her.
The other diners raised their heads like lions hunched over freshly killed prey, masticated bun and crumbles of ground beef hung from their mouths.
"She gets my jokes," Hart said, "And she likes them."
Brynn was blushing.
"Look," Hart said, "If you don't come home with me tonight I can't be responsible for what I'd do."
Brynn's blush deepened into a flush that flashed down her neck, and made her nipples erect.
"You are adorable," Hart narrowed her eyes lustfully.
"Let's walk," Brynn stood.
"Let's," the stranger agreed.
Greenhorn's #5 had no parking lot so they'd parked a ways up the street. Hart jogged of Brynn, shadowboxing. She was impressed by her movements, and stopped to watch her.
"So it thinks it's a boxer," a voice said from the shadows.
Brynn turned to see the two men from the hamburger stand, flaking a mail box, their forms tall and hard in contrast to the rounded stubby figure.
"It does," Hart said with a jovial edge to her voice.
"A challenge then," the other said.
"Two on one?" Hart asked.
"Just me," the first one that had spoken said, and stepped closer.
"Hart," Brynn whispered and took a step back, the challenger wore a black vinyl rain slicker, dusted with filth, underneath was a pair of ragged brown work pants and a striped red and green shirt the colors distorted by food stains and dirt.
The challenger stepped forward, face lumped, brow broken, nose twisted, reshaped from fighting. The hands were what frightened Brynn, they were huge, not a big man's hands, but a monster's, with knobby, perfectly rounded knuckles.
"Hmm," Hart said, "Alright."
"Hart," Brynn whimpered as the monster sailed towards them quickly, and Hart bent into a runner's crouch as of there was about to be a race.
The monster roared closer now, Brynn grabbed the back of Hart's collar, she would not move.
"Hart," Brynn screamed.
The stranger stood and received a blow to the cheek from one of the massive hands. Hart's head jerked back like whiplash knocking into Brynn's, sending the librarian to the concrete.
Her ears rang as she scrambled backwards until the spout of a fire hydrant poked her in the back.
The stranger took another blow to the chest, the hollow thud made Brynn's stomach flop, she cast her gaze to the other figure who waited patiently in the shadows.
Hart lowered her head, raised her fists to her face though it seemed impossible to Brynn that she could ward off the monster's hands. She danced rolling off the blows, until she could finally land one, as quick as a striking snake to the monster's throat.
The challenger gave a mighty gasp and swung blindly before falling to the concrete in a crawl.
Hart bashed her knee into the monster's face, blood flowed black in the moonlight. She turned, helped Brynn to her feet, and the two walked to her car, the librarian thought at the time a ridiculously calm pace.
ó
"My place," Hart insisted and told her where to turn.
They drove closer to downtown, the stranger exhausting the supply of Kleenex in the glove compartment with blood, claiming that it was nothing.
Their destination was a towering red brick building. Brynn was amazed, it was ancient, the rounded cracking brick, the way it loomed, no one had made anything so tall out of brick in a long time.
Hart guided her into a foyer of mailboxes, to a creaking elevator they rode it seemed to the top most floor. The walked a maze of dim corridors with wooden floors and upholstered walls, material thin with age.
"Home sweet home," Hart said unlocking her door, letting Brynn in first.
It was a loft with a partly closed off kitchen, the walls were white, the furniture black metal or wooded coated black. The windows were covered with black blinds.
Brynn eyes swept the room, larger objects like two towering narrow shelves of CDs flanking a massive stereo system with speakers as tall as she, and a near-lifesize bronze sculpture of a naked woman standing, her legs and arms spread in V's, eyes narrowed as she gazed on angrily, her hair windswept.
"You like?" Hart asked taking her across the loft to a bed with an ebony wood frame, ravens carved at four posts, black silk sheets.
Brynn blushed at the bed despite the macabre ravens their wings at their sides, eyes closed, heads down as if they were roosting solemnly, gave off an erotic aura.
The bathroom was closed off, the floor a Greek mosaic tile of a sun and hills, and trees, and fields of grain. The walls were painted with pillars and vines, and a garden scene.
"It's·" Brynn began but did not know what to say.
"Not what you thought my bathroom would be like?" Hart asked, "Its all from my winnings and before that some other enterprises·" she trailed off.
Brynn was not paying much attention, she had spotted the tub, it was brown marble and sank into the floor, there were jet holes, and a brass faucet.
"Would you like to bathe with me?" Hart asked.
Brynn took a step back sure that meant getting naked.
"Here," Hart said turning on the water, "You get started and I'll busy myself for a few minutes and join you."
"I'm not sure," she said.
"Trust me. I won't ravish you or anything," Hart turned away from the furiously blushing librarian and began to walk out of the bathroom asking her what kind of music she liked.
"Lilith," Brynn said.
Hart made a distasteful sound loud enough to be heard through the wall. "I'll see what I can do."
Brynn took off her shoes and paced.
The tub began to steam and Hart called out and asked if she was ready yet.
"No," Brynn answered tentatively, she shrugged out of her sweater, and paced some more.
Outside she began to hear Lilith's music. She had been a fan since the first album Unwanted Blessings. Lilith was a classical pianist who decided one day to make rock music, but what she played wasn't a piano trying to be a guitar, it was erotic, deeply moving, poetic music.
Brynn sighed unzipped her skirt and let it fall and let the music of the latest album Golgi Apparatus guide her out of her underwear and into the tub.
Hart appeared in a kimono with another slung over her shoulder. She gave Brynn a smoldering smile as she turned on the jets.
"I thought you didn't like Lilith," Brynn said.
"Not really, but I just downloaded that off the net," Hart said unbelting her robe, she shrugged and let it fall in the same vicinity of the skirt.
Her arms up to her shoulders were covered in tattoos, all Aztec symbols, eagle talons gripped her upper back and wrapped around her collar bone.
"You're not one of those awful music thieves are you?" Brynn asked.
"I sure am," Hart stepped into the tub, she was all lean planes, and muscle. Brynn felt like a pig. She had never been an athlete, thirty was a year away and her metabolism was beginning to slow, she had a little gut pouch and some flab at her flanks. At least her breasts hadn't hit her knees yet; there weren't enough of them to sag that far.
She squirmed as Hart moaned and sank into the roiling water across from her.
"Comfy?" she asked Brynn.
She did not answer, only shrugged, the water rippled between them.
"There's no one who's going to miss you?" Hart then asked, "You never mentioned anyone."
"No," Brynn answered, "I'm unattached."
"Me too," Hart said and winked, "That was a silly question," she sighed, "Aren't you comfortable?"
"I'm sorry," Brynn said she shifted wanting to stand until she remembered that she was naked.
Sensing her flight Hart darted forward like a fish across the short, bubbling sea between them stopping when their faces were inches apart, her palm on Brynn's shoulder. The water shifted and slopped over the smooth banks of the tub.
"What are you so afraid of?" Hart asked.
"You," Brynn managed.
"You know better than to be afraid of me," Hart said, "Must be something else·"
Brynn searched her mind.
"The darling one was naked and, knowing my wish, had kept only the regalia of her jewelry whose resonant charms can lure and vanquish-"
Brynn's breath quickened and she listened in disbelief as the woman who pressed so ardently to become her lover recited Baudelaire. It wasn't exactly love poetry and only a true scholar of the poet could appreciate the words for that moment.
"-Naked then, she was to all of my worship," Hart continued, "Smiling in triumph from the heights of her couch at my desire advancing, as gentle and deep as the sea sending its waves to the warm beach."
She stopped and leaned forward kissing Brynn who giggled.
"I don't have long legs of hips Îshining smooth as oil' " the librarian said, "but I do have the hips of Antiope and the torso of a boy."
Hart smiled. "You're silly, your breasts and your belly are Îthe grapes of my wine.' "
They kissed a long time, Hart's hands grabbed her sternly as they had back at the librarian and Brynn trembled she could only reach out and pull her closer using her fingers to clutch her new lover's face.
Hart broke the kiss the turn off the jets, from a wire shelf suspended on the wall above the tub by a suction cup she retrieved a bottle of soap, a loofah, and a cloth.
"I said we were going to bathe," she explained, "I don't want to seem like I got you here under false pretenses."
Brynn smiled and turned her back when she was asked and let Hart bathe her, reach around soap her small breasts.
"Its ridiculous of you not to believe you're not stunningly beautiful," she said into the librarian's ear, "I know fairies who would kill to be as beautiful as you are."
Brynn laughed. "Now who is being ridiculous."
Gloriously covered in suds (they gave her some modesty so she was bold) she turned and began to bathe the stranger.
"You quote Baudelaire and you talk about fairies," she said, "Who are you stranger?"
"I'm Hart Gonzalez," was her reply, "And if you let me I'll make love to you until the sun rises."
Brynn settled back into the water and rinsed herself, when she was finished she noticed that she was being watched. Hart's eyes flashed with passion, and Brynn realized she was in over her head. The severity of the lust involved, radiating from herself and the stranger mingling, stirred by her doubt and the stranger's cockiness.
"Well?" Hart asked, her voice husky from wanting.
Brynn stood, she climbed out of the tub dripping wet, the stranger behind her, she was handed a towel. Grateful she covered herself.
"I'm sorry, Hart," she said, "I can't-"
"You don't have to be sorry for nothing," the stranger said, there was warmth in her eyes now, warmth, Brynn could handle.
She went for her clothes, stooping a bit, Hart stooped with her.
"You don't have to go running off," she said, "Stay the night. It'll be perfectly innocent."
"I shouldn't," Brynn said.
"Now I can take being denied sex, but company, you shouldn't have teased me like that, librarian," Hart said then sighed, "Get dressed. I'll walk you down."
Brynn dropped her clothes and took the other kimono, it was white with a pink and red cherry tree design, she was pretty sure it was pure silk.
"I'll stay," she said decidedly to the stranger.
Hart gave a small bow of her head and donned her kimono, it was hunter green with gray stallions running along the hem.
"You said you make up names for people·" Brynn reminded her, "What did you call me before you knew my name."
Hart grinned. "Those eyes of yours they reminded me of a cats, and you're so silent when you pad through the library, shyly going Îmeow'. Gatita. Kitty. That's what I called you."
Brynn laughed, and Hart gathered her in her arms.
"I'll get us some drinks," she said, "I think we're going to be reciting a lot of Baudelaire tonight."
ó
To be continued in When Pianos Try To Be Guitars: More Librarian Tales
Shameless plug
Disclaimer for shameless plug: author trying to get you to read one of her more serious works. If you're disgusted by this sort of thing·well you know what to do.
Read a Fate of Fire a novel by me T. Walker
Disclaimer: My plan is to write a novel long series of short stories about Brynn the librarian and her stranger, Hart. I hope the muse is kind, she seems to like these two.
The title is inspired by Tori Amos and her greatest hits compilation called Tales of a Librarian. And in my plans I have another part named after a Tori song so I decided to uber my favorite artist right into the series as the character Lilith who is roughly Tori based. So here is the second story in the Librarian series. Gracias.
Grimoire: When I woke up this morning in the stranger's arms I didn't panic. My borrowed kimono was half opened but I did not panic, I kind of lay there and marveled at my own pale breast, then her bruised face next to mine. I remember the burger stand, the kisses at the library, the fight with those wierdos, the bath, the touching. We talked all night about books and drank fruit smoothies. I told her about Nat, and she told me of some of her past lovers. She was pleasantly shocked that I had only been with Nat. She's going to treat me like a virgin I know. "sigh" It has been a long time. And last night I wanted to be with her so bad.
I snoozed off again, it was about five in the a.m., she got up and went out for breakfast. I couldn't sleep though after she left, so I explored. Then there was this knock at the door. I was naked except for my robe and I timidly called "hello". Who ever it was slid a book of matches under the door. It was red, the book, but on the inside flap someone had scribbled out an address. I copied it on a scrap of paper, something about a warehouse, someplace way past downtown.
She came back before I had time to really think. She picked up the book of matches like it was nothing. We ate. We kissed. But I had to open the library so it was very brief. I thought about her all day, my stranger. She says she has to work tonight and we know what that means. Right now it is 9:00 p.m. and I'm at home wondering what one wears to a bloodsport match.
ó
Hart had said few words since they left the old parking garage, Brynn recalled her grumbling something like laughing stock but nothing more.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?"
"I just wanted to see what it is you do,"
"I told you. I fight."
"You do more than that. You go into some kind of trance."
"You're just too damned smart for your own good, you could have been hurt or killed, that place is not a fucking tea room. Bad spirits hang out there."
"I noticed."
"Then you run into the ring and do your pocahantas thing, Gods, I'll never be able to show my face there again."
"Maybe you shouldn't."
"Oh no, that is not fair. What if I didn't want you to be a librarian anymore? It's too early for us to be trying to change each other. If you don't like what I do then you can just walk out right now."
Brynn said nothing in return.
"We have a good time, huh Gatita? Look at you. It's been such a long time since a woman has looked at me the way you're looking at me now. I'm lucky to have you in my corner Dobhale."
"So what should I do? Wait around until you're killed?" Brynn asked.
"I've been doing this a long time. I know what I'm doing, don't be so over dramatic·.come on you're not going to walk away from me·"
"No, I'm just going to try my damnedest to prove to you that you don't have to validate yourself by this mystic fight-club thing."
"You don't know the half of it gatita,"
"Then tell me."
"Let's get naked first."
"He's called Itzcoatl, he's an Aztec warrior, he's a spirit I'm in touch with, I channel him into my body and we fight together. That's what blood sport is all about, you have to be in shape physically but there is a metaphysical self that also has to be in shape."
"So you're a medium."
"Sort of."
Brynn jumped, "You scared me"
Hart smiled, "You shouldn't be afraid of the shadows anymore, from now on I'm the worst that will be hiding in them."