Chapter 1
Jade
The town was… Yeah, I actually had no words to describe the town I’d managed to find only thanks to some serious swearing at my GPS and some very inventive driving. I was a city girl through and through, and driving on what could barely be called more than a dirt road was not what I considered fun. Now I knew why Mrs. Hightower had insisted I rent a four-wheel drive.
The Main Street was so quiet, it might as well be considered abandoned. It was nothing like the busy Boston streets where I’d grown up, and I could already tell there wasn’t anything even remotely resembling a pub. There was just a lone diner, with an interior that appeared not to have been updated since the sixties—down to the red vinyl booths and ancient linoleum floors. If I squinted, I could easily imagine a waitress in roller skates coming out of the kitchen, balancing a tray of ice-cold milkshakes. Actually, if that were to happen, it would be pretty cool, but I doubted it.
I wasn’t here to sightsee anyway. The mayor had hired me to do a job, and I was going to make damn sure I did it well, no matter the circumstances. My résumé could not handle another mishap, I thought grimly. Not that any of the mishaps had been my fault, but unfortunately, that meant diddly squat to future employers. All they saw was a big black mark. I grimaced, my knuckles growing white as my fingers tightened around the steering wheel. It was unfair, but that was life. No use crying over spilled milk.
The town was pretty in a weird, quiet way. The diner I’d already noticed was pristine, if old, with glass so polished it looked like crystal. The pavement was cracked, the streets uneven, but planters bloomed everywhere with pretty spring flowers. A B&B down the street had a jaunty wooden sign out and freshly painted walls, possibly the prettiest building in town. That was simply by virtue of having been recently restored, but I had to admit that the repair shop was quaint, and the General Store utterly in tone with the town.
I stared at it as I parked the rental, the General Store. It had been painted in gold letters on the glass window: elegant, precise, old-fashioned. I’d never been to a place before that still had a functioning General Store instead of some big franchise. I’d never been to a town with a population of less than a hundred either, but here I was.
The building right beside the General Store, that had to be the library, and it made my stomach swoop and my spine tingle. That building, that was my future, the way forward and out of this tired old mess my life had become. It didn’t look like the type of building that could do anything like that, magically fix the mistakes I’d made. It didn’t look magical at all; it looked a freaking mess.
I sighed, hoped I was mistaken, but there was this big engraving over the large front doors that boldly stated “Library.” There wasn’t any way to deny it, this was the place. How was I supposed to look at old books, restore, catalog, inventory them, when the building was at risk of falling down around my ears? This was not at all the way it had sounded on the phone when I spoke with Mrs. Hightower. She had some explaining to do. Then again… how much could I afford to anger my brand-newemployer? That was exactly what had gotten me in trouble last time.
Smoothing my hands over my skirt, I decided I would have to see the interior—and the books—before I made up my mind. The books were the most important part. Books meant everything, and if they needed me… Some might call that an obsession, a weird quirk in my character—to put more stock in old, dusty tomes than real-life people. Some, like my ex. You’d think a fellow librarian would hold similar sentiments, but he’d been more interested in necking in the stacks than dusting shelves. It had gotten old really fast.
This, though… this already was old. Ancient, in fact. While that could mean a fantastic book collection just waiting to be discovered, facts were facts: this was a tiny town with more abandoned, empty houses than houses with actual living beings. The town didn’t even appear to boast a school, so it was unlikely there were any interesting books at all.
I got out of the rental anyway, and something that came very close to the excitement at the cusp of discovery buzzed through my veins. In half an hour I was supposed to meet the mayor to go over the details, but I wanted to see the library for myself first.
The street was eerily quiet as I crossed it, and my skin prickled with unease. It felt like there were eyes on me—dozens of them—but I could not pinpoint where they came from. Was it the empty, pristine diner that couldn’t possibly stay in business? Someone watching from that cozy B&B with the beautifully carved wooden sign? Or did those eyes come from inside the General Store that looked perhaps just a tad too fancy, with a few too many specialty items on the racks? Maybe it was fromall those places, I wouldn’t put it past small-town expectations. Nothing ever happened, so I had to be the most exciting thing in weeks… Of course, when I looked, I saw absolutely no one.
The library steps were mossy and slick, with a clutter of debris blown up against the solid oak doors. The windows had all been boarded up, so there was no way to look inside. Perhaps if I circled around… I really wanted to get a glimpse, an impression, so I’d know if this was worth my while. It had sounded good on the phone, but the library was in such a sorry state. To uproot myself for this project, for as long as it took, was a huge decision. I had to make sure it was the right one.
The grass was soft and lush, covering the narrow passage between the library and the General Store—oddly verdant when the town itself seemed so worn and dusty. It whispered against my shoes, leaving silky dew kisses on my suede pumps. I trailed my fingers along the library wall, feeling the cracked plaster, white-gray from dirt and age. It felt like a solid building, a building with weight, with bones that were meant to last.
Then the space opened up, the alley ending in a vacant, empty lot surrounded on three sides by tall hedges. It was overgrown and unkempt, with grass and weeds sprouting tall and proud—some of it up to my shoulders. The third side was the back of the library, and there were steps and a door here, too, along with windows, but these had also been boarded up. Too much light wasn’t good for old books, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
At least here, nobody was staring holes into my back. I could risk a sneak peek through those boards. Grass clung to my neat slacks, and a stubborn weed caught on the ruffle of my blouse.I had to carefully extract myself before progressing deeper into the wild growth for my chance at a window. When I made it, I softly cheered, that was one obstacle down.
The boards weren’t fitted all the way to the bottom, either, if I ducked a little. Yes, perfect, I could look inside. Tall shelves and shadows, not enough light to make out the books. I pulled my phone from my purse and thumbed on the flashlight option. Then I lifted it and aimed, breath stuck in my chest with hope and that same buzzing excitement doing loops inside my veins. Those looked like leather spines, with faded gold titles; hand-bound volumes.
I tilted my head to the right and squinted, trying to make out some of the words. Latin, I thought, and maybe something Greek; that meant old. For it to be in a place like this, it had to be a private collection of some kind. It was everything I had hoped to discover before my meeting.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a cool voice snapped harshly from behind me. There was such glacial disdain, and such elegant polish in that tone at the same time. I leaped sky-high in fright and managed to slam my forehead painfully into the windowsill, saved only from serious harm by the thick layer of moss that coated it.
Spinning on my heels, I wobbled dangerously and then, to my shame, discovered I’d clasped both hands to my chest like I was a freaking damsel. “Ow! You... you scared me!” I yelped, feeling both guilty and shocked at being caught mid-spying by some local stranger.
Behind me, in the shade of the huge, overgrown hedge, stood a man. He was wrapped in darkness—tall and handsome. My pulse leaped in my throat, not from the scare this time, but from something else. Even mostly in shadows, I could make out the sharp line of his elegant jaw and the width of his shoulders as they tapered toward narrow hips. He was perfectly proportioned in every way, like some artist had drawn him based on Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man.
His eyes were a striking pale blue, like glaciers, and just as cold, too. They pierced me with a suspicious glare that had ice skating down my spine. The only feature truly visible, those eyes seemed to glow in the dark the way cat eyes might, and the magical effect set me on edge.
I was intensely aware of the fact that I was alone with a complete stranger in the back lot of an empty library, inside an equally empty town. My body screamed at me in warning: Danger! Get out of here now. I was so convinced of the threat that I might as well have been facing off with a lion.
Chapter 2
Luther
Veal or venison? I stood before my open refrigerator, frowning at the two wrapped parcels as if they might declare a preference themselves. It had been a brutally dull week, and I felt I had earned a proper meal tonight—something indulgent, something with demi-glace.
Ever since the B&B had reopened, the possibility of guests, strangers, dropping into town had hung over my head like a sword. I hated it, but I wasn’t above admitting that I had grown very used to my peace and quiet over the years. These changes had come with growing pains, and none of them had been pretty. No, that wasn’t entirely true. I needed only to glance out one of my windows to see the spring changes and their verdant abundance—courtesy of one such change: Rosemary the nymph. And across the street, the B&B was an absolute gem to behold now, which did appeal to my senses.
Go with the veal,Belfry sang into my mind, his voice lilting like a gossipy aunt rifling through a box of scandalous letters. He was dangling from one of his favorite kitchen perches: the elegant curlicues of my luminaire. I had given up telling him he’d scratch the intricate bronze with his claws. In his burgundy silk vest, at least he looked charming; if you liked that sort of thing.You look like a veal man today. Elegant. Refined. Slightly pretentious,the bat added, with a smirk in his tone that made my hackles rise.
I hissed in warning, then straightened the jacket of my suit just on principle. The gall the little guy had, why did I put up with it again? Sometimes I really wasn’t sure, like today, when he dared to insult my character. “I am never pretentious,” I muttered, and I yanked the veal from the refrigerator with vehemence. Slowing my movements at the last moment, I was much more gentle when I placed the pricey cut of meat on a plate to adjust to room temperature.
