Books V Novels & Stories

Peaceful. Vespera Hale walked along the mahogany shelves, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. Philosophy. Strategy. History. She stopped. On a shelf at eye level, nestled between The Art of War and a first edition of The Count of Monte Cristo, was a book she didn't recognize. It had no dust jacket. The binding was matte black, textured like volcanic rock. The lettering on the spine was silver, sharp and angular. SAVAGE REBORN.

I like taking my time, that way, I can get used to the idea of living with Xander. Sitting behind the counter in the bookstore, I listen to Vincent talking to his cars while I place an order for new books. One of those books is The Art of War by Sun Tsu. I want to read it and see why Alexei loves it so much. My thoughts turn to the BBQ, and I must admit, I enjoyed it a lot. And Rosemarie was right. Everyone seemed pretty normal. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe guns and men smoking cigars while plotting the end of the world?

Much like he'd looked as he had stood on Carrie's porch watching the clouds slowly travel across the sky while calmly sipping his coffee despite the chaos going on around him. Ben returned carrying a load of books in his arms. He heaved the heavy books onto the table before me. I looked down and was surprised at what I saw there. I didn’t know what I had expected. With all that had happened, I had envisioned fantasies of witchcraft, vampirism, mutants, and numerous other explanations involving mythological figures but this I hadn’t anticipated. At the very top of the considerable pile of books lay the King James Bible. “Just the tip of the iceberg, baby.” Richard said as he looked at me and

I stopped at the library door and smiled to myself. ‘Books are better than people. Books don’t hate on you for something you didn’t do.’ I pushed the door open and breathed in the wonderful smell of books. ‘Paradise.’ I strolled to the shelves and scanned through the books, reading their names off their spines. ‘It seems Dante wasn’t joking when he said half of his library was filled horrors.’ A book caught my eye, and I pulled it from the others. “Bone and Souls by B. Brian.” I read the name aloud and skimmed through the description behind it. “This seems interesting.”

He shifts back; putting a seat between us and truly looking horrified. Bibah simply shakes her head at our childish shenanigans and takes a sip of her iced latte, metal straw clinking in the Hydro Flask. “The Awoo Book Club’s pick for this week is H.P Lovecraft.” She pats the voluminous book atop the pile and I notice it’s the library copy of H.P Lovecraft’s Omnibus 3. “I’m so excited to roast his ass.”

“Then why does your face look like that when you look at him?” Elara sighed. Not the dramatic kind. The tired, deep kind — the kind people sigh when they’re about to open a door they’ve kept locked for their personal reasons. She walked over to the tall shelf near the window and ran her fingers along the spines of dusty books before pulling one out. “I guess,” she said, turning back to me, “we’ll have to start from the basics.” She handed me the book. The cover was old, the edges worn. Gold lettering barely visible.