“How do we get back to our own time?” Morrie asked. “We can’t get the door open.”
“Wait until morning.” Victoria sighed and slunk into the darkness. “When he visited me, he always had to wait until morning. At one time I believed he meant it merely as an excuse to stay with me, but he assured me it was part of the room’s magic. I guess I shall have to sleep in my chair.”
“Meeeoorrww!” Grimalkin cried.
Victoria leaped to her feet. “I see my chair is already occupied.”
I tried to slide out of bed, but Morrie’s body weighed me down. “We shouldn’t steal your bed. The guys and I will take the chairs—”
“Meeerrw!” Grimalkin sounded indignant.
“I insist,” Victoria said. “After what you’ve been doing between those sheets, I do not wish to touch it. You may as well enjoy it for the rest of the night. However, your feline friend will have to join you.”
Grimalkin meowed as Victoria deposited her on my feet. The candlelight bobbed across the room. A sofa creaked as she threw back the covers and settled herself in. A moment later, the light flickered out.
“You heard the lady.” Morrie’s hand snaked around my chest again.
I threw him off. “You can’t seriously be thinking about that now?”
“Yes, yes I can.”
“Morrie, get off me. Aside from the fact that I’m holding a letter from my father and a Victorian book dealer is sleeping on the sofa three feet from the bed, so I haveother shit on my mind, I’m angry with you.”
“Have I done something to offend?”
I snorted. “I’m not talking about this now. But when we get back, I’ll write you a list.”
“I look forward to it,” Morrie snapped in a hurt tone. He turned over and yanked the blanket around him, leaving me with a tiny corner and Quoth with nothing at all.
Quoth’s leaned over the bed, back in his human form. His hand settled over mine. “Mina, if we light the candle, I could read the letter for you.”
My heart pounded. My fingers itched to hand it over. I desperately needed to know what it said. But I drew my hand back and shook my head. “I appreciate that, but I think I need to read it for myself. Which means there’s nothing else to do but wait for morning.”
“I can think of plenty to do,” Morrie pouted. But he didn’t turn back around or throw himself at me. He did, however, relinquish another foot of blanket.
I slid back down under the covers, all thoughts of sexy times fleeing my mind. Quoth slunk away into the gloom, and I heard the flutter of feathers as he shifted back. Heathcliff slid in the other side of me, draping his arm across my chest, steadying and protecting me with his bulk. My fingers traced the edges of the envelope. What did it contain? How wasmy fatherconnected to Nevermore Bookshop?
Beside me, Heathcliff snored, his beard tickling my shoulder. The steady rhythm of Morrie’s breath caressed my skin. Only Quoth remained awake, high on his perch above the door. His eyes captured moonlight, piercing the gloom as they fixed on mine. We regarded each other.
Sleep, Mina,he said.I’ll watch over you.
But I couldn’t sleep. Not with Victoria Bainbridge whistling through her nose on the couch, Grimalkin’s tiny body purring against my foot and the strange-but-familiar house creaking and groaning, and the edges of the envelope resting against my fingers. I stared at the ceiling, my eyes grasping for some visual clue that never came. I went over the information we’d uncovered so far. But all it brought was more questions than answers.
My father came back in time to purchase books from Victoria and leave a note for me. But how did he know I would come here one day? Mr. Simson told the guys to watch out for me and that I was in danger. Was he trying to protect me from my father? Were they working together somehow? This building has been related to the book industry for a thousand years. Why? What about before Herman Strepel’s time? What was Nevermore Bookshop then? And how did it come to have these magical abilities? How long have fictional characters been appearing? How long has this very room been a portal through time? Is Mr. Simson a fictional character? Is he my father?
Outside, the sun rose over the village. Shop bells jingled. Lorries rumbled around the village green on their early morning deliveries. I rubbed my eyes, wishing the gloom would lift so I could see. But I would need the sun to be full in the sky and several more bright lamps before I could make out much of this room. The church bells tolled the hour. The door creaked open, revealing the hallway in the flat with all the lights still blaring, and our emergency equipment piled against the wall.
Grimalkin stood up, stretched out her body in a cat-yoga pose, then trotted back through the door.
I flung myself out of bed. “Let’s go!”
On the couch, Victoria startled. “Young lady, you might attire yourself properly before you leap about in fits of excitement!”
My cheeks burning, I grabbed my pajama bottoms from the floor, picking up a handful of the guys’ clothes and tossing them at the bed. Morrie yawned and slid out of bed, completely naked, his cock bouncing in front of Victoria’s face. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Indeed.” Victoria’s lips curled back into a sneer so terrifying, Morrie’s cock grew soft under its power. He winced as he ducked his head under the door. Ancient builders never made doorways for someone of Morrie’s height.
Heathcliff pulled his clothes on under the covers and slid out of bed. Quoth fluttered down and perched on my shoulder as I stepped over the bags. “Thank you for my letter, Victoria,” I said. “I really appreciate—”
