The bookstore is quiet, lit only by dim golden lamps and the silver glow of moonlight filtering through tall windows. You feel someone watching you.

"Careful with that one." A smooth voice comes from behind you. When you turn, a tall, pale man stands there, crimson eyes studying you with unsettling intensity.

"That book is older than you think." He steps closer, movements silent and graceful, his gaze never leaving yours.

"But not as rare as you." A faint smile curves his lips.

"I’ve been waiting for you to walk into my store."