Chapter Text
If she’s shaken, which she is, she tries not to show it, but she does.
She trembles, in her periwinkle coat, the dusty books heavier in her hand than they were yesterday. Mildew clings to the old stone handles, but she presses forward, shoulders back, brave faced.
Veronica smiles brightly at her from the reception desk. She’s on her phone, multi-tasking, and just the sight of her makes Betty relax a little. Another witch, still right here, nothing’s different, nothing’s changed. Yesterday afternoon was a blip. Nothing to worry about.
“Hey B, want me to renew those?”
Betty smiles, a little strained, but mostly earnest. “Please.” It's just like every other morning, just like every other morning-
“No worries.” Manicured hands take the load off her, type into the directory. “The library’s busy today.”
Betty frowns. Thrums her fingers against the counter thoughtfully. The wood speaks up to her, hums its story into her fingertips. “Is it?”
“It’s weird,” Veronica hands her back the books,. She’s dressed and polished like a shiny forest green opal; deep and dense as pine trees amid the dusty collection cases. “Classes don’t start again till fall. Eager students?”
“Maybe.” Betty echoes doubtfully, drifting into the halls.
Veronica’s right. In the dim, ancient hall, crossbeams cover the ceiling, and for the first time in months, people fill the seats.
There’s the sense of magic in the air. Crisp and a little toxic.
Maybe this isn’t about her. Maybe something else is happening. Near the Equinox, maybe covens have flocked here for some congregation meeting. Maybe Betty’s been lucky, having this immense library to herself for months and now things are just returning to normal.
She takes a seat in the far back, draped in shadows, and turns on the small desk light.
She jumps.
Opposite her, leaning against the cold, stone wall, is a man.
***
He’s pale, dark eyes, dark hair, and a trim suit.
He watches her intensely.
Betty swallows, averting her eyes. Fine. She’s shared desk space before, this is-
“Doctor Cooper, I believe?”
The air tickles in her throat. She risks a look up. He’s closer now. Leaning across the table on his elbows, head cocked like he’s listening to something intently.
It all clocks very quickly. His stillness, his paleness, he’s listening to her heartbeat. Vampire. She’s never been so close to one, not knowingly anyway.
But she’s not one for prejudice. Not one to judge. So, Betty smiles gently, and replies quietly. “Yes? Can I help you?”
He smiles at her, amused. His eyes glitter. “Wonderful. Another American.” Comes the smooth, British voice. Full of inward-facing, not meant for other ears, low humour. “I’m Professor Jones. I’m a big fan of your work. Your paper on the history of alchemy? Inspired. I must confess I’ve read it a number of times.”
She feels seen. Looked at in a way she’s ever been looked at before. So she flusters, looks away. “Well, thank you, Professor Jones. I’m here on a fellow-ship residency. Oxford has the best resources.” She smiles, hopes it's friendly, but not too friendly, or - maybe, a little too friendly?
“Call me Jughead.” He insists. Then laughs, presumably at the look on her face.
“'Another American'?” Betty asks, when she should get back to her research. “Do you know Veronica?”
Something flits across his face, too fast to be analysed. “A little.” He says vaguely, but he isn’t pulling away. There aren’t even any books on his side of the desk. No satchel or briefcase. No pretense that he was ever here for any reason that wasn’t Betty.
Doctor Cooper, I believe?
He’s here for her.
He sees the moment she realises it, and he smiles again: more rueful this time.
“The library’s full today, isn’t it, Betty?”
“Doctor Cooper.” She grits back, defensive. “I have a lot of work to get done, so if you don’t mind-”
“But it was empty yesterday, wasn’t it? When you checked out that book?”
The flare of pain. The burn on her palm itches. The sound it had made, that book opening in her grasp. LIke a sonic blast. LIke a siren. She thought she could hope it away into nothing, but it was a beacon and sirens and sailors alike have swum to it. Hungry.
“Ashmole 842 has been missing for centuries, Doctor Cooper. This library has never had a record of it, but yesterday, you requested it, and there it was.” His face is bright with excitement.
“I returned it.”
“Perhaps.” Jughead hums, and his eyes flicker to the other patrons pretending to read. His voice drops even lower. “Everyone here is watching you. Everyone is here for you.”
She knows he’s right. She can feel it. The prickle of their gazes. The spike of magic in the air. But she resists. “They’re staring because I’m talking to you.”
Jughead pulls away, he stands up. He’s tall, cut sharply, handsome- she realises suddenly. “You need to be careful.”
“Is that a threat?” She hisses, because her parents have taught her-
“No.” He frowns, backing away from her. Confused. As if he’s such a gentleman, as if he would never threaten. Betty doesn’t subscribe to prejudices, but she knows what vampires are known for and it isn’t the gentleness he’s pouring now. “It was a warning, Doctor Cooper. Some people will take what they want, and they won’t be kind about it.”
He pulls a card from his pocket. Small, crisp, white.
She takes it dubiously. "And you will?"
Professor Jones - History. Rooms 234&235
“If you ever want to discuss what you found in that book or-” his eyes again, glance over the library full of creatures, “-anything else. Please feel free to find me.” He tucks in his chair then. “And good luck with your research, Doctor. Though I doubt you’ll need it.”
Betty watches him go, as do a number of others. When he goes, disappeared into the shadows of the hall, eyes swivel to her.
“Okay, no.” She whispers to herself, getting to her feet with a clatter.
A hundred eyes watch her go, and they don’t stop staring till she’s back in her apartment and the door locks, warded, behind her.