Here's the next chapter! Thank you everyone for the kind reviews. I hope you check out each other's works because they are all fantastic.

As always, Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. The book quote I use in this chapter was written by Marie Carmichael Stopes.

Enjoy the chapter! Please leave feedback, those emails brighten my day. 

~*~*~*

The next morning, I was happy to see the rain had started. Looking through the rain streaked window up at the dark grey skies, I smiled. There was a storm off the coast that was supposed to keep the city in cloud cover for the next several days. It would be nice to finally be out during the day, walking around with normal humans and not the scum of the city.

Also, I needed to get more books to keep me occupied on the sunny days. As moral as a killer could be, I hated breaking into the library at night and taking books. No one had noticed yet, but I still felt guilty every time I did it.

I put on a fresh outfit, not wanting to smell like the cigarette smoke and booze from the night before. As I changed, I noticed some of the man's blood from last night also got on my pants, a couple droplets near my knee. No, I did not drink his blood. After the girl saw me last night, having his body show up drained of fluid would be suspicious. I didn't want to move on yet. The blood from his hand, courtesy of the girl's bite, had dripped on my pants as I disposed of his body.

I smiled to myself as I thought about the girl biting him. I do not believe he suspected her to fight him as she had the feisty little thing. I stopped. I shouldn't be caring about this girl. After all, she was just another moral degenerate, a victim of the generation, a loose woman haunting speakeasies and being careless. Grabbing my hat and umbrella, I headed for the Carnegie Library.

The streets were scarce of people, only a few here and there dashing inside to avoid the rain. I opened the umbrella and started to whistle a song that had been stuck in my head as I walked. Humans always smelled better in the rain, I didn't know what caused this. Maybe it just made the air heavier and let the scent linger longer. I read the thoughts of the humans who passed me, hoping to find a suitable candidate for dinner tonight.

Entering the building, I was immediately assaulted by the smell of humans. I typically did not let myself to be in such close confines unless I had the intention of feeding, but I really did wish for new reading material. There was only so many times you could read Hemingway before it became dull. Spotting a young librarian shelving books, I approached her to ask a question. She was humming a little tune in her head, oblivious to the room around her.

"Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of your," I stopped as her eyes met mine and her thoughts turned to the alley scene last night.

"You!" She gasped, dropping the books in her arms. Another librarian shushed her, giving a mean look. The girl glanced around embarrassed and began picking up the books, thinking about how humiliating this was. I reached down to help her, letting my eyes roam across her body. She was in a very conservative outfit, her arms and legs covered completely. There was no makeup on her face, just a pair of eyeglasses threatening to slip off her nose. If I hadn't seen her thoughts, I wouldn't have known this was the same girl. How could the flapper girl in the short skirt at night turn into this by daylight?

"You're a librarian?" I laughed, thinking this whole thing to be absurd. There was no way this could be the same girl. She quickly stood up and glared at me.

"Yes, I am. A girl has to make a living doesn't she?" she huffed. Who is he to judge me? He doesn't know anything about me. She was about to open her mouth and say those things to me when we were interrupted by a blonde girl running towards us.

"Anna! You will not believe what I just heard," the girl rushed between the two of us, grabbing the librarian's arms. She was dressed more in the times, a flapper I recognized as being another regular at the speakeasy.

Anna, I realized this was the first time I had heard her name. She gave me a slight glance, wondering if I was going to let them have a private conversation. I nodded my head to excuse myself and walked towards the other end of the stacks.

"I just ran into that writer from the Daily Observer, and you would not believe what he told me."

"What is it, Dorothy? I need to get back to work." She continued to watch me, analyzing everything about me: my simple dress, hair style, how I stood ramrod in front of the stacks. I relaxed my posture, hoping it looked more human. Out of my peripheral vision, I analyzed her as well. She stood comfortably in her clothing, almost as comfortable as she acted in her flapper outfit.

"Ray Scott was just found washed up in Hope Creek," Dorothy gushed, putting her hands up to her mouth. Through her thoughts, I knew who Ray Scott was before Anna did, the foul man from last night.

"Who is Ray Scott?" Anna asked confused, wondering why that should be important to her. Her mind was still focused on me. Yes, I had disposed of him in Hope Creek. I snapped his neck to end it, even though I wish I had made it long and painful for him. The scene was set to look like he had hit his head on a rock, actually my fist, and drowned.

"The man that was buying you drinks all night," she said slowly. Anna's eyes opened wide with realization, and turned her head to look at me again. I kept my eyes on the books in front of me. He couldn't have. He's a piano player, she thought, analyzing me again. Though he did look very intimidating last night.

"Did he say what happened?" Anna asked, interested in seeing what I had done to her assailant.

"The police said there was alcohol in his blood. He lives down by the creek. They are theorizing that he took a walk, fell, hit his head, and fell in." Dorothy told her. Well that's convenient. I didn't know that he lived down there when I disposed of his body.

"So it was just an accident?"

"Appears so. Why?" What else would it be? Why does she look nervous?

"Well, you know in these hard times. This area does have a high crime rate." Anna stole a quick glance at me again. "Sugar, I need to get back to work," she said quietly. Dorothy reached over and gave her a hug.

"Will you be at the Blind Tiger tonight?" she whispered, hoping eavesdroppers wouldn't pick up on the name of the speakeasy. Anna shook her head.

"Not tonight, I'm going to stay in with the kids." Her thoughts turned to a young boy and girl, looking to be about three and seven respectfully. She didn't look old enough to have kids.

"Alright dear, the crowd will miss you tonight." Dorothy finally noticed that Anna was watching me instead of her. "Is that…the piano guy?"

"Yes, it is."

"What's he doing here?" She asked.

"Checking out books, I guess." I couldn't help but smirk at this, such a simple answer hiding so much. Has she told anyone about last night? Anna watched at Dorothy left before walking towards me.

"I'm sorry about that," she apologized. "I want to thank you for helping me." Her voice lingered at the end, as if she had more to say. I couldn't pick up on what she was going to continue with, her thoughts becoming scattered again. Looking around to see if anyone was watching us, she went to grab for my hand. At lightning speed, I pulled it away before she touched me. When her hand clenched empty air, she was confused.

"Follow me," she whispered, leading me around the stacks to a more secluded place in the library. I tried to focus on what she was thinking, but her quick secession of thoughts was going to give me a headache.

"What did you do to Ray after you told me to run?" She asked, abruptly stopping once she arrived at her destination. If it wasn't for my lightning quick reactions, I would have plowed into her and knocked her over. My granite body hitting hers could not have ended well.

"I told him he shouldn't treat women that way, and sent him on his way." I answered, hoping this would be enough of an explanation for her. It wasn't.

"You're not telling me the truth," she accused. Was it accusing if she was right?

"Well, I may have punched him." There, that was the truth. That punch was what broke his neck after all.

"He was found dead this morning, apparently," her tone was still on edge.

"If he was a better man, I would say that was a shame, but I'm afraid I can make no such sentiment."

She looked up at me, amused. "Yes, I would have to say the same thing. Thank you again, you probably saved my life last night. I'm in your debt."

"You owe me nothing. I was just doing my civic duty." And trying to find a suitable snack. "So, can you point me in the direction of your newest additions?"

He's really changing the subject to books? I could have been killed last night, which he stopped, and he wants to know where the new books are?

"They are up front, where you were looking, while I was speaking with Dorothy," she said slowly. He wasn't reading the books. I bet he was eavesdropping. But he was so far away, he couldn't have heard anything. Drats, I was caught.

"Oh yes, I was wondering if you had any other ones. I'm looking for something in particular." I quickly lied, grabbing the book in front of me and started reading the first page.

The truly monogamic couple, where the man and the woman go chaste to the marriage-bed, and go through life in mutual love and respect, these feelings growing stronger as the years go by, finding full satisfaction in each other, without any desire for any other man or woman – what nobler, what more appealing ideal can one conjure up? Nor is it an utterly unrealizable ideal, for in spite of the sneers of the cynics, there are such couples, even at the present time and even in our largest Babylons. . . .

What did I pick up? I flipped the book over and read the cover. Married Love by Marie Carmichael Stopes. I quickly placed the book back on the shelf, truly grateful that vampires could not blush. Turning my gaze back on Anna, I was happy to see that she had not paid attention to what I was reading.

"Really? Which author?" Why didn't I think before I opened my mouth? She reminded me of those conversations I would have with Helen. I looked down at Anna, trying to pick her brain for a name to say, but the only author I could think of was this Stopes. A little smirk played on her lips, just like Helen use to do when she caught me. I felt a slight clench at my heart as I really looked at Anna. She reminded me a lot of Helen. Same brown eyes, that only got brighter as she smiled. Her hair was the same color, that rich mahogany, but Anna's was cut in a stylish bob. Helen's body was much softer than Anna's. Anna looked like she was just skin and bones. Was she malnourished? Could be a result of a high metabolism.

"I have to go," I said quickly, unable to take this comparison to the one love of my life. I walked away, a bit faster than I should have. It didn't raise Anna's suspicions, though she was only concerned that she had done something wrong.