“Not just the headlines. Front page.” Morrie winced as he pulled himself to his feet and dusted off his trousers. “These trousers are contaminated now. I’ll have to throw them away and they cost £400.”
“You have £400 to spend on trousers?” I don’t think I’d ever seen £400 in my life.
“Forget his bloody trousers. Look what you’ve done to my shop!” Heathcliff folded his arms and glared at the ladder, which had smashed a wooden panel and left a long scratch along the balustrade.
“It wasn’t me,” Morrie protested. “It was the mouse!”
“Meeeoooow!” howled Grimalkin.
My temples throbbed.Just another day in Nevermore Bookshop.
The shop bell tinkled. Heathcliff frowned as the sound of clomping orthopedic shoes signalled the arrival of an elderly customer. These were his least favourite types of customers, after children and Millenials and everyone else.
Heathcliff was the only shop owner I knew who wished customers would just leave him alone. We’d been getting a steady stream through the doors ever since I started working at Nevermore Bookshop, but I blame that on the recent murder in the Sociology section. Even though the police solved that crime over a month ago (with a little help from Heathcliff, Morrie, Quoth, and me), the villagers still made a beeline for the upstairs room where it had taken place.
Believe it or not, a murder during my first week on the job had so far been theleastof my problems. It turns out the murder victim was my ex-best friend, Ashley, and since I’d been one of the people to find the body, the police were convinced I’d done it. Luckily we’d managed to clear my name, and got a dangerous killer locked behind bars.
Italsoturns out that my new boss and his two flatmates are actually the fictional characters Heathcliff, James Moriarty, and Poe’s raven. And the bookshop I’d loved since I was a kid wasn’t just an ordinary bookshop – it was plagued by some kind of curse, has a hidden occult book collection and a room that moved forward and backward in time.
Andthen,because my life wasn’t already crazy enough, I sort of…sleptwith Morrie. Well, there wasn’t much sleeping happening. He’d taken me hard against one of the hallway bookshelves. My cheeks reddened just thinking about it. Ever since, we’d been doing it everywhere we could – in the storage room, on his perfectly-made bed, on Heathcliff’s chair in the living room. My body tingled just thinking about Morrie’s hands sliding over my skin. My life my be insane, but it had never been more perfect…exceptfor the tiny, unresolved issue of me not wanting to be with a master criminal, and of Heathcliff kissing me and Quoth declaring he had feelings for me and me not knowing which of them to choose...
Oh yeah, and I was going blind. That was also a thing.
Quoth fluttered away to greet our customer while Morrie scrambled to right the ladder. Heathcliff slouched back to his desk and slid his muscled frame into his chair, flipping open a book in front of him with a heavy thud.
I guess I’ll help the customer, then.I turned to see who’d come through the door.
“Oh, hi, Mrs Ellis!” Mrs Ellis was the hilariously horney old biddy who used to be my school teacher. She’d encouraged my love of reading, always giving me books far above my level, usually featuring muscled men and swooning women on the covers in various states of undress. She’d retired years ago, and now lived in a small flat above the chippie across the road, which suited her perfectly as it gave her the ideal vantage point to eavesdrop on conversations in the street and gather all the village gossip.
“Hello, Mina dear.” Mrs Ellis wrapped her arms around me in a motherly hug. I sucked in a mouthful of hyacinth perfume and tried not to gag. As I pulled away, a pair of beady grey eyes met mine from over Mrs Ellis’ shoulder.
The eyes belonged to a sour-looking woman in a fuschia-pink suit, complete with matching handbag and hat. She peered down at me through a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.
“That’s not a very appropriate outfit for working a retail job,” she frowned, sweeping her judgemental gaze over my body.
I smoothed down the front of the t-shirt I’d screen printed the night before. It read, ‘I like big books and I cannot lie,” with the OO’s in the word BOOKS strategically angled across my chest. Morrie and Quoth thought it was hilarious. Heathcliff didn’t seem to have noticed it yet. “What do you mean, ma’am?” I asked, all sunshine and innocence. “I’m declaring my love of the written word.”
“It implies you’re sexually excited by books, like some kind of pervertedlesbian.” She sniffed in disdain.
“Oh no,” Morrie called from the top of the stairs. “I can assure you, she’s a big fan of the cock.”
Mrs Ellis snickered, and squeezed my hand. “Iknewyou’d land one of those handsome beaus, dearie. Tell me, is he long and lean in all the right places?”
My face flared with heat.Could the floor just swallow me now?
The woman’s face turned beet red. She called up the staircase. “Young man, that is inappropriate language in front of your elders and you—”
Sensing a lecture coming on and Heathcliff’s anger sizzling in the background, I jumped in. “Ma’am, I’m sorry about my friend, and my t-shirt. I’m happy to help two such lovely young ladies with your book-buying needs.”
Mrs Ellis tittered. Her companion didn’t look nearly so amused, although she did brush an invisible speck of lint from her shoulder.
“Oh, dear me, where are my manners. Mina, this is my dear friend, Gladys Scarlett.” Mrs Ellis beamed, clutching Gladys’ hand. “We’re on the church fundraising committee together.”
“Ichairthe committee, thank you very much,” Gladys Scarlett corrected her.
“Yes, of course. Gladys is very involved in the community. She’s on all sorts of committees, I forget which ones are which.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Gladys,” I held out my hand and the old woman shook. She had a firm grip. “I’m Wilhelmina Wilde. I used to be one of Mrs Ellis’ students—”
