It’d been a full day since she’d seen Roman after the incident in the library. She watched her face turn pink in the mirror as she brushed her hair. The early morning light filtered in through a window in her guest room. She glanced around the room, a luxurious room that was a far cry from her cozy apartment. On the vanity, she’d placed a few picture frames of her family and friends. The uncertainty of how long she’d be staying here haunted her.

How long did she have to find the document? He hadn’t given her a specific date, but he seemed to be anxious about it. What he needed it for, he hadn’t disclosed to her. She frowned and fingered the soft skin of her cheek, warm against her chilly fingertips. Would he even want her to stay after what had happened between them?

Her phone buzzed with a message from Clara asking how things were going. Josephine heaved a sigh and put the phone away, making a note to reply later when she had a clearer mind. She stared at her computer bag that was sitting on her made bed.

Acting on impulse, she sat down beside the bag and pulled the computer into her lap. She opened the lid and booted the device up, nervously watching the door as the machine took its sweet time.

The mansion might’ve looked pre-Internet, but the connection was surprisingly fast. She quickly typed “Roman Williams” into the search bar and watched as the results flew up; pages upon pages of references to the elusive man. Unsuccessfully suppressing the guilt, she began clicking on news reports.

“Roman Williams Lunches with Models,” she read aloud from a gossip magazine. She raised her eyebrows when she saw a photo of Roman lounging with two gorgeous blondes. Their legs were longer than she could ever hope for. She found a more reputable newspaper article from the city about his sponsorship of various projects.

“He’s given a lot to historical projects,” she muttered aloud and scanned over the pictures of him with a few professors from the local university that she recognized. Although his face was posted alongside models or famous socialites half of the time, she noted that he seemed happier in his photos at public work events. She whistled in surprise when she found a picture of him, with his wry smile, among some colleagues that she’d studied with at university.

How had she’d never come across him? Clara knew about him before she had. Maybe she should’ve spent more time outside of the library. With a tired groan, she put her computer away.

Time for work. She dressed quickly in a long skirt that hitched at her waist and a tight blouse tucked into it. Roman had mentioned that Robert could fix her breakfast, but she headed off to the library immediately. Or at least, she tried to head off to the library.

“Was this wall here before?” she puzzled, turning back from another dead end. She could’ve sworn that the library was down on the western wing of the house, but a suit of armor stared blankly at her from a corner with no books in sight. She went back up the stairs. Her mysterious employer’s quarters were nearby. The scent of his minty cologne filled her nostrils as she headed down the hall, padding cautiously in her flats.

To the side, tucked away in a dim corner, she spotted a half-open door revealing bookshelves inside. She rested her hand above the doorknob with a pause. This wasn’t the library she’d been in yesterday...but it was filled with books that might be helpful. She took a deep breath and slipped inside.

She was immediately taken aback by the sheer number of books lining every shelf. Various papers were crammed between anything with open space. The main library was organized down to the last tome, but this space was complete chaos. She approached a row of dusty spines and leaned forward to make out their faded letters.

“Black magic,” she voiced with an unsure tone. Her brows furrowed. She moved on to the next row. Beast mythology, Supernatural studies, Bear magic, Bear symbolism and Bear mythology. She stared with wide eyes at the room around her.

Roman Williams was a secret occultist? It was hard to imagine his handsome nose buried in any of these. A thick red text adorning the spine of another book caught her eye as she moved to the other side of the room. It was weathered, but well taken care of. She slipped it from its place and admired the front, a detailed gold drawing of a naked female form that held a crescent moon, almost like the Midnight Den’s symbol.

The first page wasn’t blank. A note in elegant handwriting read: “To my sweet prince, You will rule with honor and glory. If you seek to find what I’ve left you then look toward your heart.” Next to the note, she puzzled over a strange illustration. Two thick dots with a dash between them. She’d never seen a symbol like that. It wasn’t like any emoticon she’d ever seen nor did it match any Morse Code symbol she’d studied or rune.

A dull sound came from somewhere down the hall and she jumped like a burglar caught mid heist. She cursed under her breath and prayed she wasn’t about to get busted for snooping. She placed the book back on the shelf and rushed out of the room, relieved to see that no one was in the hall. She crept back down towards the staircase, but a heated voice from a nearby room caught her attention.

“She has to go!” Roman’s muffled voice bellowed. She held her breath as her feet remained frozen to the Persian carpet beneath her. “I’ll find another historian.”

Someone replied to him, in a quieter tone, but it was so low that she couldn’t hear it.

“I can’t control myself. What if I turn?” Roman’s voice went quiet after that. He said something else, but she wasn’t waiting for him to raise his voice again. She darted down the stairs to her bedroom and slammed the door. Leaning back against it, she tried to calm her heaving chest.

She had to prove to him that he needed her; that no one else had the necessary experience. Regardless of what had happened between them, if she let this opportunity go...

She could help him. She knew that she could. There was nobody better at pulling research from the archives than her.

Her hand found the phone in her room. Robert’s voice picked up after she dialed the number he’d left for her on the nightstand.

“Yes, Ms. Baxter?” His smooth voice was devoid of any secrecy. Perhaps he hadn’t been the one that Roman was yelling at.

“Robert, can you show me to the library? I think I have a lead,” she told him. She caught her reflection in the mirror, ruffled but determined.