It wasn’t exactly a packed place, not so late into the evening, but there were a fair amount of people milling around. From students at the desks, to librarians and custodians doing their jobs, and yet another couple making out in the shadows.
I don’t know what it was that had me looking up and toward the back corner, but it was almost as if something was pulling me in that direction.
Curious, I followed that feeling as it led me toward a smaller open area in the back where several tables were pushed together in an attempt to have enough room for the many stacks of books on their surfaces.
No less than three travel mugs were on the table as well, along with two extra pairs of glasses, notebooks, a tablet, and a bag of hard candy. The strawberry and cream kind.
Then there she was.
Bent over a book on the table, her elbow resting on the desk, her head resting a bit against that hand as she read.
She wasn’t as formally dressed as she’d been in the photograph, though her hair was still pulled back in that severe bun. She had on a pair of navy blue slacks and an oversize, thick-knit sweater in an off-white color. There was another sweater on the back of one of the chairs. And if I wasn’t completely mistaken, what looked like a blanket folded up on another one.
It was cool in the library. It probably had something to do with the health of the books or some shit like that, but I regretted my decision not to bring an extra layer.
The cold had been one of the biggest shocks of being dragged into the human world. Having lived many years of my immortal life in the hottest place in our planet, even the human summers felt chilly.
I wasn’t quite at the level Ace was about the cold, but I imagine that had come on slowly over the years, and thanks to the fact that he’d spent a lot more time in hell than any off us had, acclimating to the climate.
As I watched, her other hand moved toward the corner of her book, sliding a long finger with its neat oval nail painted a nude color under the edge of the page, then flipping it.
I don’t know how long I stood there watching her read before she seemed to get pulled out of the story, and her body stiffened.
Humans were pretty dense creatures, in my experience. Wholly unaware of their surroundings, completely oblivious to danger.
But they all had moments where something inside of them seemed to sense a threat, making them stiffen and finally look around.
That seemed to be what was going on with the professor.
I slinked back into the shadows as she looked around, trying to find the source of the uncomfortable feeling.
Reaching up, she pulled off the glasses that took up a lot of her face, then slow-blinked at the library before shaking her head like she thought she was being silly, grabbing her glasses, and getting back to reading.
Eventually, her posture kept getting lower and lower, until her upper body was practically draped over the table.
Then, of course, the inevitable happened.
She fell asleep.
Right there.
In public.
Where anyone could do anything they wanted to her.
Fucking humans.
Really, it was a wonder they survived as a species.
Shaking my head, and resisting the strange fucking urge to cover her sleeping body in that blanket she’d brought with her, I turned around and exited the library.
If I were to play the part of a fellow professor who wanted to discuss her favorite topic with her, I couldn’t be showing up in the middle of the night.
So I took myself off campus to find a hotel room to stay in, jacking up the heat until the room finally felt comfortable, and dropping off to sleep for a bit just to pass the time.
Sleep wasn’t something we really needed much of, but I’d gotten accustomed to the normal, human schedules thanks mostly to the women who’d come to live in the house as well as all the parties we threw.
I hadn’t quite wrapped my head around the whole biker club thing we did. From what I could tell from the media I’d consumed on the topic, outlaw biker clubs really only existed to party and commit various sorts of crimes. Neither of those things were shit Ace was overly interested in. He was happier alone with a book in front of the fire.
But, it seemed, coaxing the evil out of human beings who had it simmering beneath the surface had been his way of brooking favor with our boss downstairs for the day when he could eventually return.
The others seemed to love all the drinking, drugs, and fucking. My little brother included.
The club also managed to bring in some revenue which, despite being immortal beings, we all needed to have to survive on the human plane.
It paid for my hotel room.
And the outfit change I picked up to play my part better.
And the coffees I picked up on my way back to the library early the next morning.
Where I found her in the same position.
As if sensing my presence, she shot upright in her seat, slow-blinking the sleep out of her eyes as she looked at me.
Her big glasses had fallen down the bridge of her nose, and my fucking fingers itched to push them back up, or pull them off completely.
And since that was fucking ridiculous, I just clutched the coffee cups tighter, feeling the warmth through the paper.
“You’re… you can’t have those in here,” she said, voice thick from sleep.
“What?”
“The coffee. You can’t have that in here.” Confused, I gestured toward her three cups on the table. “Right. Yeah. They’re in spill proof containers,” she said, reaching for the nearest one, pupping up the top for a sip, then wincing. “Cold,” she grumbled.
“I brought you a warm one,” I told her, holding it out.
“You brought… what?” she asked, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think my brain is firing on all cylinders today,” she admitted. “Do I know you?”
“No. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. Professor Than. Bael Than. But I am actually here because I have heard of you,” I told her. “Professor Astor,” I added, moving forward to hand her the coffee. She took it with both hands but made no move to drink it.
Apparently, human women lived in fear of human men slipping drugs into their drinks to take advantage of them.
And they wondered why hell and the demons who worked there were necessary. For shitheads like that.
“Professor Than,” she repeated, her finely shaped brows drawing together a bit. “Interesting last name. Than. Means death,” she told me.
Though, of course, I’d known that.
It was why I’d chosen it.
Demons didn’t inherently have last names. So I’d needed to invent my own.
“Bael, though, is a type of citrus tree. Not nearly as macabre. So, Professor Than, what can I help you with?”
“I’m… creating an… app,” I said, recalling the story I’d come up with. Apps were a bit of a mystery to me still, but I understood that they were things on those phones humans were always glued to. And that there were apps for “everything.”
“An app. Not really my area of expertise. I can’t seem to figure out how to sign back into my streaming apps,” she said, waving toward her phone.
“I didn’t need help with the building of the app, per se. More the content of it,” I told her, pulling out a chair to sit down.
“What is the content?”
“Greek mythology.”