July 14, 1664 – Paris

     The immense room holds one of the most pleasing smells that I have ever come across. The heavy scent of leather caresses my nose as my eyes dance over the spines of the loosely bound books and scrolls.  Like a great hall, the Mazarine Library boasts rows of tables for those few patrons that are capable of reading well to enjoy the vast selection. There are many hours of darkness left tonight and I will spend every one of them here, perusing the literature.

      I will spend my time alone, carefully avoiding the attention of the humans. They would surely suspect my abnormality when I leap across the room to sit on stacks of books comprehending the writings faster than a human’s eyes can move. Luckily, this is not a popular place at this hour but there was one human, the librarian. I lick my lower lip, tasting his blood as I trail my fingers along the books, streaking them with crimson.  What a beautiful sight. My two favorite things.