Adrian took the Cupid up to a quiet alcove that overlooked the front lobby of the library. There used to be offices along the beautiful balconets for librarians, administration, and the head of the library, but these offices, were left vacant for years due to limited funding. Once a month, a custodian comes up to dust and check for leaks.

He had set aside a small space for himself in the largest office. It was the only room that still held books, many of which were second edition prints, not quite as rare, but still precious enough to keep stowed away on the three shelves lining the wall. The main office was also the only office that had stained glass windows that could be opened to let in unfiltered light or closed so that the pinks and oranges immersed the room like a beautiful sunset.

"I'm sorry. Had I known, I wouldn't have pushed to get those books," said Geneva. The Cupid looked concerned. In her lovely eyes, he could see that same swell of affection, that same breathless desire to connect to someone. There wasn't much of it, but it was there and Adrian feared that if he looked away, it would disappear again.

Adrian didn't take his eyes from her as he walked backward and reached for the shelf. He knew exactly where he hid it among the other books along the shelf. His hand touched it, felt the familiar binding, and pulled it from the wall, still unable to pull his eyes away from the Cupid. Then he handed her the book.

"Look at the last page," he said. His voice seemed so loud in the quiet space, so lost.

Geneva opened the book and the binding crackled from age and neglect. She found the last page carefully, flipping and caressing pages as if the journal was an extension of him. She was careful, considerate, a breath of gentleness where he needed her most. She lifts the book to her nose, even, and breathed in the scent of old paper and dust. It's a thing she does, he noticed, he saw her do it before with new books too. She seemed to like the way paper smells.

He knew she found the page, watched her reading, moving her lips along the verses as if she were murmuring her prayers. In his mind, he saw the passage. His very last.

May 17, 1891

Mother is gone now too. I feel myself being pulled with her, to go with her. She was so sick these last weeks and the debtors came by to take our things. All of father's books are gone. They said I was young and strong, that when they seek the house and land, I can help mother to recover through hard labor at the factories.

I held onto that thought like a mantra. She was my anchor to this place. But without father, mother had no anchor. She is gone now. And I am lost.

There is nothing here for me. There is nothing but wandering.

They came to take the deed to the land. They brought hooligans as if I would fight them for it. I gave it to them and as I left the only home I ever knew, I heard them say how foolish father was to save those books. How fools deserve to die.

I locked them in and set our home ablaze so that they could feel what he felt. My father was a fool. He was a fool to think that I would ever become a doctor, to pay for my education against the deed to the land. And I am a fool too. And fools deserve to die.

I am lost. I am already dead.

Geneva looked up at him when she is finished, the book still open in her hand. There were tears in her eyes and they fell in quick rivulets down her cheek. He'd never seen her cry before. He doesn't know what to make of it. But he doesn't have time to even think about her tears because she closed the book and carefully laid it on the desk.

It took her two steps to close the distance between them. Her arms, heavy and real, clasped around his neck and pulled him down to her waiting, trembling lips.

He kissed her. He pulled her in, his hand on the thin material of her tee shirt, fingered splayed wide to touch as much of her as possible. Warning bells went off in his head. Be careful. Don't kill her. Be careful. 

No matter how loud the warning was in his head, he couldn't stop his hands from roving over her body. She was hot, her heat leaped from her skin in waves. Only when he was around her did he realize how cold and hallow he felt. Until she filled him up with soft sweet energy, he was empty and tired and wanting.

His hands fell to the curve of her bottom, he squeezed her, lifted her up so that she could wrap her legs around him too. He wanted to feel her surround him.

Her hands raked through his hair, held it tightly as he stepped back once, then twice. Adrian turned her so that he could rest her along the edge of the desk and laid her out like precious gems in the light.

She wasn't just beautiful. She was iridescent. There was magic at work beneath her brown skin, glowing and reddish gold, like sunlight. Geneva lifted her bare arms up over her head so that they would be out of his way when he reached to touch her clothed abdomen.

~~~~~

Cupid watched him with hooded eyes, breathing evenly as he explored the safe parts of her. His hands moving up over her ribs and she squirmed, biting down on a breathy laugh that made him smile. He was so handsome when he smiled.

His fingers, as gentle as a whisper, slid up the bottom curve of her breasts. Through her thin bra and tee shirt, her body tingled to life. Her nipples hardened visibly and strained against the material of her tee shirt. But he avoided touching those peaks, opting instead to stroke the outer curves of her breasts, then the tops, even circling around the hardened nubs. Geneva squirmed again, moaning.

"Touch me, Adrian," she demanded in a whisper.

"I am," he replied and shot her an apologetic look before adding a soft promise of, "I will."

And he kept that promise with his mouth. He leaned down and clasped the pebble of her breast between his lips over her tee shirt and watched her face as she moaned with relief. She moaned again when his thumb stroked the other hardened nub.

"What the Hell are you doing?" The voice was stern and cold.

Adrian and Geneva flew away from each other, each of them staring at the figure at the door.

The boy was lean and possessed wiry bare arms and long legs encased in dark pants. His skin was black and satiny and when the pink light from the stained glass windows hit his face, he looked sweeter than his voice revealed.

"Marshall," Adrian said, as if surprised.

"Who's that?" Geneva asked as she fully slid off of the desk.

"A horseman of the apocalypse, child," Marshall replied curtly.

"I'm no child, Marshall. I'm older than you know," she replied just as enigmatically.

Marshall ignored her and returned his attention back to Adrian with a sneer that did nothing to hide the fact that his face was still sweet. Even tight and gritting his teeth, two dimples still appeared on his cheeks.

"What are you doing here, Marshall?" Adrian asked, moving closer to Geneva and standing in front of her as if to protect her.

"I've been sent to assist you in the city. Death doesn't wait on anyone. There have been too many delays," Marshall replied.

His vernacular was familiar. He had a sort of drawl that Geneva equated with the deep south, with a certain hitch and pitch that made her think of Louisiana. His style of dress wasn't too unusual. He'd fit right in with hipsters. A black button up tee shirt tucked smartly into dark trousers that weren't quite long enough for his legs. He wore delightful black wingtips and horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was short, with a civilian fade around his ears and the back of his head.

But she knew from looking at him that, even though he would fit in with kids now, he was not from now. He, like Adrian, Dot, and herself, carried the history of the world in their eyes. It was the price of immortality.

"I just came from an accident on St. Paul. A bus was t-boned. No survivors in the sudan," Marshall said conversationally.

"Okay...But what are you doing here? In this room," Adrian reiterated, an annoyed expression sweeping over his face. Now that he knew that they were in no danger, his face and body grew taut with annoyance.

"To tell you that Hades is displeased with you. To warn you that he'll come and speak with you if you don't improve. Hey, that wasn't there before," Marshall said, pointing at a plate of Baklava beside the journal. There were three pieces, all perfectly laid out on doilies.

Geneva reached for the plate. What are you doing, Aphrodite? Then she put on her best smile and it seemed to work on disarming Marshall's frankness. Or, at least, blind him enough to leave him unprepared.

"This is Baklava, from Aphrodite. She would love you to have one. She is the best baker I've ever known," Geneva said, peppy and sincere. She brought the plate over to the young man, no older than twenty, and he accepted without question, practically salivating over the pastry. She understood then why his face looked so sweet.

Geneva felt more confidence return to her when she offered a piece to Adrian. The Cupid took the last piece and the three of them quietly enjoyed the treat.

"I've never met a Cupid before," Marshall said, licking his fingers and looking every bit the boy that he was.

"They tend to be invisible mostly. I just can't do that well when I'm alone. I can't quite control that part of me. But, it's nice to meet you, Marshall. My name is Geneva. How do you know Adrian?" It was getting easier. This was what she was good at, talking to people, making connections. It just took some Baklava to remind her of that.

"He killed me a little while ago," the young man replied so casually that Geneva nearly choked on her pastry. "And then he sort of trained me. Now I'm his assistant to make sure he stays on task. Which reminds me. Nobody dies in a library. You should get back to work, Adrian. We're already behind and the last thing I want is for Hades to come here. The last time he came up, he kidnapped someone, you know? Let's avoid that."

Adrian looked at Geneva, licking his fingers and looking nothing like a boy. He gave her a hot look as if to say that he actually just wanted to continue what they were doing.

Marshall rolled his eyes and reached to take Adrian by the wrist and tugged him along.

"Hey, you guys can touch each other!" Geneva said excitedly.

They both looked at her like she was some sort of deviant.

"I mean, you can't kill each other. Look!" She pointed down at Marshall's hand over Adrian's wrist.

"You can't kill something that's already dead. That's just redundant," Marshall said as he pulled Adrian out the door. Adrian turned to give her an apologetic look but it was clear that he had to get back to work.

And so did Cupid. After that last session with Adrian, she felt that warm happy ache of Love expanding within her chest. She wanted to hold onto it, to possess it, but she knew she had to release it.

She also had to check in with Lizzy. She promised Thai and she was going to keep that promise. Before she left the library, she took Adrian's journal. She wanted to know more about him, about his family, about what caused him to leave the earth and take three men with him.

Geneva wanted to know everything there was to know about Adrian Wilder.

________________________________

Author's Note:

Hey! This is earlier in the day than I'm used to posting. Wow. This is nice.

I should do this more often.

Please enjoy. Thank you for reading, voting, and commenting.

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