“How interesting. What do you think you're running from?” he asked.

“I don't know.”

John glanced around, his view narrowed by the rows of shelves interrupting his sightlines. Other patrons wandered quietly through the rows, paying him no mind. He was no threat to them. He did not attract unnecessary attention.

For the briefest flicker of a moment, he considered what would happen if he took out his knife right there, amid the books.

It was the opposite of Pearl's party. Eerily quiet, everyone around them strangers.

“What do you think I dream of?” John asked flirtatiously, cryptically.

She furrowed her brow, “What?”

“I'm just curious,” he said. “You must be able to tell me.”

“I... I don't know,” she said. “What are you dreaming of?”

John considered.

“I'll tell you…” he said, “but there's a price.”

“What kind of price?” she asked.

“You have to hear what I have to say,” he replied, “and then you have to tell me what you think it means.”

“OK,” she said, “tell me.”

“I dream of a woman who looks like you. She dyes her hair and smokes a cigarette, but she herself is made of smoke.”

Immediately, she tugged at a strand of her unnaturally colored hair.

John watched the words roll off his tongue, “She is pale and white, her skin like ash, like the remnants of a fire. She is a traveler between worlds, and she is my guide.”

The librarian shifted her feet, the first true inkling of true uncertainty.

“What are you studying for, exactly?” she asked.

“Personal interest,” John replied. “Now, where was that section on dreams?”

She fidgeted again, “Over there, in the back.”

John stepped up beside her and led her down the aisle. She glanced back over her shoulder, the back of her skirt brushing against the shelf.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“Uh,” she said, “I think you're trying too hard.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Just tell me what you think it means.”

“I think you're trying to impress me,” she said.

He gave her a playful look, nudging her with his elbow as they walked.

“What's wrong with that?” he said.

She stopped abruptly, turning to face him.

“I hope you find what you're looking for,” she said. “Here's the section.”

She put on her polite smile. This was her workplace and she must have been afraid to appear unfriendly or unhelpful. She rubbed at her arms.

So rebellious, so determined to find her place in the world.

John would help her find that.

“Thank you so much for your help,” he said, returning that polite smile.

He watched her go, his eyes following her until she disappeared between shelves.

It was not yet time, but soon.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE