Heart of the Night

Red Rose Publishing
Genre: Gothic romance
ISBN: 978-1-60435-763-9
Price: $1.99; Format: ebook; Length: Novella
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Coping with her father’s declining health isn’t the only challenge Jess O’Rourke faces as head of a small-town library. An old collection of books moldering in the basement may hold the secret to returning a demon to his own world. But that demon likes being where he is, and he’s recently learned the book’s location. He plans to retrieve it or destroy it, by whatever means necessary.

An enigmatic but attractive man who’s begun hanging around the library warns Jess about the book and the demon coming to get it. She’s dubious about the whole thing, but begins to search for the book. As the demon’s efforts to retrieve it escalate, Jess comes to realize that laying the demon may cost her more than just time and effort. It could claim everything she holds dear, even her own life.

Chapter One

Hot wind swirled around him, the breath of hell joining the fall breeze to blow in change. The air felt heavier, denser, threatening. The pressure had grown in the last few days, harbinger of something approaching. Something evil.

Anticipation swelled. His time was coming, his hundred and fifty years of imprisonment nearing the end.

* * * *

Jess O’Rourke’s father had a bad morning, refusing to eat and rolling around restlessly, not cooperating with the nursing home attendants who struggled to get him washed, shaved, and dressed for the day. Helping settle him made her late for work.

As she rushed from her car toward the library door, movement caught her eye, dragging her gaze upward. Maybe it was because she was so crushed by her father’s rapid deterioration from the Alzheimer’s that her imagination embroidered what she saw, but she could swear the gargoyle that sat over the entrance to the library turned its head toward her.

Ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as putting the statue there in the first place.

Whatever had possessed the architect to include a gargoyle in the plans? The architecture was plain, country simple without a hint of gothic other than the ugly winged creature hunched on a pedestal over the door, its big ears spread wide, eyes trained on the road in front of the building, and snout open to show its sharp teeth. It sat there, forever brooding on the visitors who climbed the six steps to the entrance and threatening those brave enough to try it.

The movement was probably just a leaf drifting down over it. She ignored it and hurried inside. The chaos of the day continued here. Her part-time assistant, who covered the library on her own three mornings a week, all but pounced on her before she could even get to the office in the back to hang up her jacket and lock her purse away.

“Jess! Glad you’re here. More trouble this morning. This was tacked to the door.” Lisa jumped up from behind the checkout desk, then went back to reach under it and bring out a piece of letter-sized white paper.

Jess turned it around, read it, and realized she and Lisa should both have been more careful about how they handled the sheet. Could the cops still get fingerprints after they’d both touched it? Would they even bother? Crude hand lettering covered the page, writing so large that only a few words would fit.

Jess read it aloud. “Ungodly books are a curse on the entire town. ‘If thy hand offend thee, cut it off.’”

She slapped the paper back down on the desk. “Ignorant assholes are the real curse on this town. I’ll bet it’s the same people who’ve been writing the letters to the editor about our fantasy books and some of the biology texts.”

“It sounds kind of threatening,” Lisa said. “That bit about cutting a hand off.”

“It’s from the Bible,” Jess answered. “Makes me wonder…What do you know about that strange group that’s been meeting at the old Presbyterian church on Winwood?”

“Some of my neighbors have gone there. Doesn’t sound like my cup of tea, though. All that fire and brimstone stuff.” Lisa shuddered. “You think it’s them? Could be, I suppose. Weren’t they the ones that held that rally on the square? Where that Reverend what’s-his-name gave the speech about evil books and the sins of the world? Their God doesn’t sound like someone I’d really like to meet. I mean I know God is supposed to be great and awesome and all that, but theirs sounds like he’s also mean and vengeful and no fun at all.”

Jess grinned despite her worry. “I don’t know that he’s supposed to be fun. But the God I grew up with seemed like he was more concerned with the big stuff, the big sins, like people killing and torturing and stealing from others, rather than people reading things that might make them think.”

“Yeah, that too,” Lisa agreed. “Should we call the sheriff?”

“He ought [TO] know about it. Even if it’s nothing but bluster. The preacher that started that group at the old Presbyterian church has been bringing groups of people in to check out books the last few weeks. They seem to be going for the fantasy novels and the science texts. I’ll call the sheriff.”

The person who answered the phone at the sheriff’s office didn’t seem overly concerned, but he promised to send a deputy to look into it. The official didn’t get there until almost four, long after Lisa had left for the day, so Jess could only relate what she’d been told about the note being tacked to the door when Lisa arrived that morning. He did her the courtesy of appearing to take it seriously, but added he there was little they could so since it contained no overt threat. He did suggest she keep it somewhere safe and to let them know should they have more incidents.

As usual on weekday afternoons, there were only a few people in the place, giving her a chance to catch up on shelving and paperwork between the occasional checkout or inquiry about the latest best-seller. She considered opening up a couple more of the boxes in the basement. That uncatalogued legacy had already turned up a few rare first editions and she still had dozens of unopened cartons down there. Of course those first-edition gems were the needles in the haystack of hundreds of ruined or schlocky books moldering into a blizzard of paper flakes. The thrill of the hunt just barely outweighed the effects of dust and dirt. But that job was better left for after hours.

The evenings tended to draw more visitors, so she gladly accepted the help of a teenaged volunteer from a program sponsored by the local high school.

This year she had Carrie, a definite winner. Not only was the girl bright and responsible, she enjoyed the job and was fun to have around.

About six-thirty, as Jess walked by the main desk, Carrie looked up from the computer and said, “Your boyfriend just came in.”

Jess turned to where the man sat in the corner. As usual, he held a book open in front of him, but he wasn’t reading. Instead he stared at her with a brooding look that suggested both sadness and danger. He had dark hair streaked with premature gray, since he couldn’t be more than thirty. His gray eyes seemed permanently lost in shadows. Not quite handsome. The face was too angular, drawn too tight for that, but compelling, nonetheless. His demeanor was tense, wary, constantly on alert.

A man haunted by unfinished business. She wanted to laugh at herself. Where had that come from? She knew absolutely nothing about him except that he’d started showing up regularly each evening a few weeks ago, sat quietly in his corner, watched her more than made her comfortable, and left on his own just before closing time.

Carrie gave her a cheeky grin and added another possibility to her endless series of speculations about the mysterious visitor. “Maybe you accidentally picked up something that has super-secret information and he was sent by the CIA to retrieve it.”

Since neither of them knew anything about the man, they had fun trading outrageous fantasies. They both recognized him as wildly out of place here. His air of constant wariness and the tall, lean, muscular toughness made him the sort of man you’d expect to find hanging out in a gym or a sports bar or maybe a high-class casino, not in a small-town library.

Jess decided this would be the night they moved from nods and tight smiles to actually saying a few words to each other. Maybe learning each other’s names. She knew he was interested in her, one way or another, but she wasn’t prepared for the expressions that flashed on his face when he saw her moving toward him. Alarm followed a flash of delighted pleasure, but then dread took over.

By then he wasn’t looking directly at her, however, but to a space behind her, near the open area at the library’s entrance. She’d heard the commotion herself and turned to look.

Unease stirred in her and not just the contagion of the man’s alarm. Other than the visits from the nursing homes and retirement communities, five adults rarely came in at the same time, clearly together. Worse yet, one of them was the Reverend Damon Ryder, the man who’d probably left the sign on the door that morning.

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