She hesitated, glanced at herself in the gold-framed mirror, and nodded. “I suppose this does look very...confident? That’s the word you used, right?” Her expression shuttered when I nodded, and her next question told me why: “What are the odds we run into David?” She was nervous about that, very nervous, and I couldn’t blame her. The man had tried his level best to destroy her life when he couldn’t take her rejection. Soon, he was going to find out what it meant to cross a vampire.
I shrugged in answer to her question, searching for a way to reassure her and keep that confident, happy look on her face. “Low. This is a book on magical creatures. Would he even know such a thing existed?” Taking her wrist in hand, I stroked my thumb along the edge of the gold and jade protection charm she wore. She seemed reassured by my words, but I was not. This book business, it was a fairly restricted world as far as expertise went, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d heard his name come up once or twice, even if I’d never personally dealt with him.
I said nothing about that as I took Jade’s arm and led her from the hotel. The seller’s residence sat behind wrought iron gates and layered security, mundane and magical interwoven with care. As our hired car rolled closer, I cataloged every camera, every ward visible to my vampire eyes, and every line of sight. Not only did I want to know what we were up against, but I also wanted to make sure I had scouted the best exit.
Jade, beside me, was in awe of the architecture. “I didn’t realize the seller would live in a place like this. Does he know the book is about...supernatural things?” She was looking at the tasteful Greek marble statue that formed the centerpiece of the front lawn’s fountain. To her eyes, nothing here looked out of the ordinary, but she was neither trained to pick out nor familiar with the signs.
“Oh, he knows,” I assured her. “Mr. Nanook very much has both feet in my world. We’re very lucky he’s willing to sell this piece. All you need to do is verify its age and whether you think it might actually cover the topic we’re looking for.” Her wry smile said, Oh, that’s all?
Thankfully, my familiar chose that moment to begin talking, providing a neat distraction for her tense nerves. Riding on my shoulder, he muttered about the angle of the sunlight and the insultingly mediocre weather with such sharpness that it made Jade laugh.
We were welcomed by a servant and led through polished corridors into a grand office lined with art and shelves of rare books. It all screamed expensive taste, but I saw what others might not. Some of these objects were expensive now, but Nanook had likely owned them for so long, he’d bought them when they weren’t anything special yet. When you lived a long life, you learned to have an eye for such things, and make good money off it, eventually. I knew I had.
Behind the large mahogany desk sat the seller, calm and watchful, the book resting on his desk like a challenge. I’d met Mr. Nanook a few times before and always respected his eye for detail. I’d done him a few favors, and in return, he occasionallydid some for me. When I saw the firm angle of his jaw, I knew he intended to squeeze every penny from me on this deal—he thought he could. Like a shark, he’d scented blood. As much as I had tried to hide it, the urgency for speed in my request had tipped him off. I needed the information he had; he knew he had all the leverage.
His expert stood beside him, a tall, slender man in a suit made of expensive fabric but badly tailored, as if he’d skimped on paying the expert craftsman and thought the expensive wool would make up for it. I had never dealt with this expert before, and the charming, slick smile on his face instantly made me dislike him.
At my side, Jade froze, halting at the edge of the Persian rug; a sinking feeling hit me immediately. Introductions were made—calm, polite—and Jade went through the motions by rote. It was a good thing she was dressed to kill and coolly elegant when she was distracted. Then the expert in the bad suit smiled, charming, familiar, wrong. He shook my hand with fake enthusiasm and said his name.
Chapter 26
Jade
I froze the moment I saw him. David stood near the window of Mr. Nanook’s office, the Boston skyline glinting behind him like a smug halo. He still had the same sharp cheekbones and the same self-satisfied half-smile. He also wore the same expensive suit that looked impressive until you noticed the puckered seams and the way the shoulders never quite sat right. Of all the people in the world.
I felt my temper flare, hot and immediate, but I swallowed it down with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent her life trying not to combust in public. I was here on Luther’s behalf. I was a professional. I could do this. I straightened my spine, smoothed my gloves where they rested atop my kit, and reminded myself that I had, in fact, kicked David in the nuts once already. If necessary, I could survive not doing it again.
Mr. Nanook turned toward us with an easy smile that didn’t quite hide how much space he took up simply by existing. He was handsome in that severe, wintry way, his white-blond hair pulled back neatly, his pale eyes sharp as cut ice. Power radiated off him, old and controlled, like a glacier that had learned to wear a tailored suit.
“Miss Whitaker,” he said, inclining his head to me. “I’ve heard excellent things.” That surprised me, especially with David in the room. If he’d known I was coming, he would have made sure Mr. Nanook had heard some very non-excellent things instead.I managed a polite smile that masked my surprise. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Beside me, Luther was all stillness and coiled patience, his hands clasped behind his back. His gray eyes flicked once to David and away again, dismissive as a closed door and as cold as ice. I had no doubt he was the source of the “excellent things” Mr. Nanook was talking about.
Introductions were made with crisp efficiency and not so much as a whiff of small talk. I appreciated that; better to get this over with. David’s gaze snagged on me, then lingered long enough to be pointed before it slid back to Luther with a look that suggested he’d found a loose thread to pull. I firmed my resolve to make certain there wouldn’t be one. I knew Luther was solidly in my camp, and his belief in me was the only thing that mattered.
The air cooled perceptibly as Luther and Mr. Nanook began circling one another verbally: courteous, precise, every word weighed. It was business masking a ritual as old as time; ancient predators measuring territory with smiles and words polite but sharp as a blade. “Before we discuss price,” I said, cutting in gently but firmly, “I’ll need to examine the book.”
Both men turned to me. Luther’s expression softened a fraction, an almost-smile at the corner of his mouth. Mr. Nanook nodded once. “Of course,” he said, and I hoped that the interest in his sharp gaze meant I’d made a good impression with that comment.
I picked up the gloves from the top of my kit and began pulling them on, the familiar ritual grounding me. The book lay in aprotective case at the center of the massive mahogany desk like an offering. Even closed, it thrummed faintly under my senses. I didn’t think that was magic, I doubted a mere human like me could sense that, but I liked to believe it was age: history pressed flat and bound in the shape of a book.
I had just eased it open when David scoffed. “You know,” he said, conversational and cruel, “I did wonder why you’d bring her. She always was more… enthusiastic than accurate.” He spoke over me as if I were not even there, directing the sharp words at Luther as if he were trying to do him a favor.
Heat flushed my cheeks as mortification tangled with fury, and my fingers curled inside the gloves. I kept my eyes on the vellum, on the careful ink strokes, on not launching myself across the table. I managed it, but only by the breadth of a hair. That bastard, he deserved another kick to the nuts, perhaps two for good measure. Wasn’t he done smearing my reputation?
“I’d hate for you to make an expensive mistake, Luther,” David went on. “Sentiment can be such a liability.” He made his eyes slide over my body, pointedly lingering on each curve and the hint of cleavage at the open button of my blouse. The implication was obvious, so blatant that it crackled through the air. It made Mr. Nanook tilt his head, his hulking frame leaning lazily back in his throne-like seat as he appraised me with new eyes.
The silence that followed that statement felt so cold I actually shivered. Danger stirred in the air and made my skin break out in goosebumps, my senses warning me that a predator was in the room and ready to charge. Luther lifted his head slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was mild, dangerously so.
“Mr. Hargreeve,” he said, “your expertise lies in acquisition, not discernment. You can identify a manuscript; you cannot understand it. While I believe you do possess a certain… talent for self-promotion, you lack the moral fiber required for this transaction.” Luther did not appear to have moved, but it felt like he was closer anyway—his body nearer to my side, where I was leaning over the book, and partially between David and me.
My ex flushed. “I…” he stuttered, but clearly lost for words, he trailed off. I’d never seen him hesitate or defer to another, but he definitely glanced over to Mr. Nanook, as if he expected backup from that corner. There wasn’t any. The bookseller was watching the scene unfold coolly, with only the barest hint of interest.
Luther didn’t raise his voice, but then, he didn’t need to, that collected coldness cut far sharper. “If I require advice on integrity, I assure you, I will not seek it from a man who sells trust as readily as slander.” The words landed clean and surgical. I felt them like a balm and a battle cry all at once. Warmth rushed through me, sudden and fierce, settling somewhere dangerously close to my heart.
Mr. Nanook chuckled, cold eyes heating with amusement at David’s expense. “Well said,” he drawled. His sharp gaze appraised David now, as if he were wondering what kind of snake he’d brought into his office, into his home. I bent back over the book before my expression could give me away, but I felt extremely vindicated.
The materials were exquisite: calfskin vellum, hand-ruled margins, iron-gall ink with the faint corrosion at the edges that came from centuries of patience. The script was Carolingian minuscule, clean and deliberate. “Late twelfth century,” Imurmured, more to myself than anyone else. “Northern France, maybe Flanders. But...” I tilted the page, examining the illumination. “I believe this is a copy. Faithful, but not the original text. Perhaps even a translation of something much older.”
