Page 1 of Lunar Diamonds
Chapter 1
RILEY
The goblin threwWar and Peaceat my head.
I ducked just in time, the hardback slamming into the wall behind me with a mighty bang, bouncing off the back section of the circular library helpdesk to land on my foot.
“Holy crap!” I cried, hopping in pain.
Damn you, Leo Tolstoy, for writing such a big book!
“And now you use foul language in my presence?” the goblin growled. “Get me your manager. Now!”
All this drama because it wasn’t the exact edition he wanted to read? Did it really matter? And when I’d asked him questions about the favored edition, he hurled abuse at me. Offered no ISBN, no details, just vitriol.
Arsehole.
I loved being a librarian. I really, really did. I’d worked so hard applying for the position and putting my best foot forward to make it mine. Being part of an important community hub filled me with pride.
But there were people who didn’t appreciate the wonders of the library, bringing their entitled attitudes and bulbous green noses, complete with five hairy warts.
Well, only in the case of this goblin. And his nose didn’t matter. Your face was your face. But when your soul practically reeked of rotten eggs, then everything was fair game to critique.
Wow, those hairs were like barbed wire.
“Manager! Now!” The goblin slammed his fist on the helpdesk, the big gold ring on his middle finger flashing in the bright overhead lighting.
I lifted my foot, leaned against the desk, and rubbed at it through my shoe. “You assaulted me.”
He grunted, going for another fist slam. “I said get me your manager. Or do I have to come around there and stomp on your other smelly human foot?”
Smelly? No way. I was as fresh as a daisy. Fresher than that, even. Every inch of me smelled of raspberry shower gel and my favorite cologne. No body odor here. I wouldn’t allow it.
My cheeks flushed with angry heat, my forehead creasing into a frown. He’d crossed a line accusing me of having putrid feet.
“Piss off!” I retorted.
Oh, the sweet sight of shock on his saggy face soothed something inside of me. “Excuse me?”
I wasn’t done. “Who the hell do you think you are, lobbing books at people?” I put my throbbing foot down, puffing up my chest like an angry pigeon. “I should come around there and smash you in the face with my stamp.” I picked up the book stamp we used to mark new stock, waving it in his face.
Check me out being all aggressive—not a commonmetrait.
I considered myself a positive person—ninety percent perky with a ten percent leeway for, well, the down moments. Butdefinitely a glass-half-full guy who never let arseholes dull his sparkle too much.
Unfortunately, that positivity had taken a walloping from emotional leeches this past week. I’d only just recovered from a human woman tearing into me because I politely asked her not to eat her chicken curry in the non-fiction section.
Why did they have to be so mean?
The goblin’s mean yellow eyes bulged, steam practically curling from his bald head. “Get. Me. Your?—”
“And what’s with this mustard suit?” I threw in, wagging my finger at his ugly clothes. “My poor eyes.” I looked him up and down as if I were some brutal editor-in-chief at an elite fashion magazine.
“You—”
I cut him off. “How does it not make you want to vomit?” I squinted theatrically, lifting a hand to shield myself from the fashion faux pas.
Like his warts, his suit really didn’t matter.But my foot throbbed, and I wanted to hurt him back.
