29

The books were a revelation.

Jasmine traced the leather scrollwork on a book’s blood red cover, admiring the craftsmanship. The gilt edges of the pages and the gold title winked in her reading light. The Haunt were a people who took pride in their literature and wrote even their histories with passion. No bloodless recitals of bare facts here.

She scooted down against her raised pillows, seeking a more comfortable position. It was after midnight, but her mind was too seduced by the glory of Haunt history to give in to slumber. The first book she’d read had barely mentioned charmers, but this one seemed more promising.

Hours later, she closed the book and set it on her nightstand. The trouble with reading a no-holds-barred version of history was that unflattering views of one’s self or people were often printed. She had to admit, humans did not look good from a Haunt perspective.