Over the whine of the buffer, she could hear her father whistling an old rock song she vaguely recognized. She passed the enormous checkout desk on her right, and then her father came into view. The foyer of the library was dimly lit, and the moonlight streamed in through the wide glass doors at the front, and the line of windows that went around the circular building.
Ned Meredith wore a pair of light gray overalls and black sneakers. He was a thin guy, with round glasses - not at all the picture of the average athletic director, Janelle suspected. But her dad was in excellent shape, and he was reportedly merciless on the field. The buffer was a heavy piece of equipment, but he almost seemed to dance with it as he moved it across the tile floor.
"Dad!" Janelle shouted.
Over the hum of the machine, he did not hear her at first, so Janelle walked over and tugged on his arm.
"Dad!"
Ned gave a little jump of surprise as he glanced back to see his daughter gazing at him impatiently. He reached down to click off the buffer.
"What's up, 'Nelle?"
She grimaced at her childhood nickname, but had long since given up trying to break him of the habit of using it. Instead, she lifted up the book to show him the cover.
"I was just reading the coolest story. These Spartan soldiers - "
Thump!
Janelle frowned, glancing around for the source of the noise.
"Now what the heck was that?" her father asked.
Just then Janelle's gaze fell upon the double glass doors at the front of the library, and the trio of faces beyond them. Animal faces, shaggy creatures down on all fours with long snouts and glowing eyes, each pair a different color: blue, green, orange.
With a tiny gasp, Janelle stumbled backward a step. Her breathing came fast and her heart raced. She pointed at the doors, even as she glanced around and saw that there were more of them at the windows on either side of the entrance.
"What the hell . . ." her father muttered.
"Daddy, what are they?" Janelle whispered.
"Not a clue," Ned replied. But he puffed out his chest and took two steps toward the door. He waved his hands out in front of them as if he might whisk them away.
"Scat!" he shouted.
The strange beasts, which had been on all fours, stood up suddenly on two legs. Like humans.
Janelle heard her father cursing under his breath.
Then the glass shattered as the monsters moved in after them.
CHAPTER 9
Window fans hummed all through the apartment above Bridget's Irisk Rose Pub, providing little relief from the hot, damp night. A summer did not go by without Jack's asking Courtney why they had central air in the restaurant downstairs, but not in the apartment. She always told him that it was an additional and unnecessary expense, something they needed to avoid to stay afloat in the restaurant business.
Nights like this, she regretted her frugality.
Of course, at the moment, the heat was the last thing on her mind. Or, rather, it was merely a distraction so that she did not have to think about how quickly her control over her life was slipping from her grasp. Courtney Dwyer's life was usually nice and predictable. This had been a bad year for predictability.
Though she could not see the clock from where she lay on her bed, tangled in the sheets, Courtney thought it was close to ten o'clock. Downstairs, the late dinner crowd was just finishing up. The hostess, Wendy Bartlett, along with reliable Tim, would have things completely under control. The bar might be a bit hectic, however, as Bill had the night off.
Bill was next to her, stretched out on her bed, skin glistening with moisture from the humid night. Courtney was cradled in the crook of his arm, her head upon his chest, listening to his heart beat.
Fast.
Too fast.
The beat of his heart seemed odd to her, abnormal . . . inhuman. And yet she could not decide if this was because he was something other than human, or if she were manufacturing this detail to remind herself of that fact.
Eyes closed, she breathed in the smell of him, and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. Time and time again, a little voice inside her tried to remind her of his true nature, as if it ought to bother her. But each time, she found that she did not care. Whatever else Bill was, he was a man of integrity and passion, loyalty and strength.
And yet, he was not a man.
In her mind's eye, Courtney relived a tiny moment from an hour or so earlier. She had come up from the pub and found Bill standing by the windows in the living room that looked down on the busy street below. When he had glanced over his shoulder at her, there had been a kind of fire in his eyes that blazed brightly for a moment before subsiding. Then he had smiled warmly.
"Hey" was all he'd said.
Then the words spilled out of her mouth, and Courtney still was not quite sure where they had come from. She had certainly not expected them.
"I think I'm going to turn in early tonight," she had said, voice catching in her throat. Butterflies had swarmed in her stomach as she laughed a small, nervous laugh.
"Want to come along?"
Now she laid her cheek on his chest, and sighed with amazement at her forwardness, at this recklessness that had arisen in her without warning. It felt good, but it was also terrifying.
"What are we doing?" she whispered to him.
Bill stroked her face, pushed her hair back over her ear, and bent to kiss the top of her head.
"If you don't know,
