He turned the glass in front of him in his hands, leaning his elbows on the backrest, and rested his leg with his calf on his other knee. With a nod, he pointed to the shelves filled to the ceiling.
“Tell me, what do you like to read?”
Don’t say Jane Austen. Just don’t say it Bayla....
“Jane Austen.”
I gave a shy smile and brushed one of the strands of my shoulder-length hair back behind my ear.
Instead of laughing like the others always did, he stared at me in puzzlement.
“Did I say something wrong?”
I knew I hadn’t said anything wrong. Maybe he just thought her books were bad and was disappointed in me.
He was still staring at me.
“You just remind me a lot of someone.”
Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
“I hope these are good memories.”
A soft smile filled his face, then that thoughtfulness again.
“Sometimes it’s the best memories that can make us sad.”
I immediately sensed the pain behind these words.
My question had been too personal. However, Alarik didn’t let it show. Instead, he stood up, placed the glass on the table and walked to his desk, stepping around to the many books.
I was jealous that he had so many first editions, including ancient books, that must be damn expensive.
Longingly, I bit my lower lip.
“Let me show you something.”
He bent down and reached further down the shelf. Then he came back with a dark blue-bound book, which he placed on the table in front of me, and sat down again.
When I saw a golden dragonfly on the cover, I held my breath. It looked exactly like the print on the secret box the old woman had sold me at the market.
Curious, I read the title: The Dragonfly Society.
I searched for an author, finally picked up the book, but couldn’t find a name anywhere.
“Who wrote it?” I finally asked.
“A good friend of your mother’s and mine.”
I looked up in astonishment.
“There was only one edition, which is why there are only seven copies in existence.”
I found it impressive that he had contact with the author, just like my mother.
“My mother knows this person?”
As I looked up from the beautifully decorated leather cover, Alarik stared into his glass.
“You know, a lot has happened since then.” He took a sip before his strained gaze lingered on the book, and I saw his expression relax a little.
“I want you to read the book and tell me if I’m the only one who’s so fascinated by it.”
I nodded in awe, because if there were only seven copies of it, then what I had just held in my hands was something very special. And the fact that my English professor lent me this copy was more than an honor. Especially after I had broken into his office.
“By when... do you want it back?”
He laughed. “We’ll see each other for at least three years now. I think that will be enough time.”
I thought about telling him that I would be leaving in a month’s time, but decided against it. I would certainly have finished the book by then. So, I just nodded.
“One question... Alarik,” I began, but hesitated. “How do these candlesticks work?”
As far as I knew, he wasn’t a sorcerer... Or was he? “You’re a hybrid?”
Alarik Copeland laughed in amusement.
“There are no hybrids.” He smiled again. “And if I, as a man, were one of you, that would definitely make me special.”
