“Why the suspicious tone, Mina? What if I came in to buy a book?” He threw back his head and laughed as if this was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. Unease flickered in my chest.
Grey ran a hand through his hair, which I noticed was also covered in a fine layer of dust. In fact… now that he stood in the light of my lamps, I could see the developer was unusually unkempt, his suit rumpled, the sleeves covered in small, dark stains, his eyes ringed with circles and filled with a mania that seemed at odds with his profession.
“You’re tracking dust on our rug.” I folded my arms.
Grey looked down at his ghostly footprints and the circle of white, and giggled some more. “My most profound apologies. I’m currently supervising renovations to my new property, and I didn’t realize they’d coated me in plaster dust. I’ve come to visit in my capacity as a good neighbor to inform you of the works that will be going on next door.”
Grey set down his briefcase and dived inside to dig out a stack of rumpled papers, which he handed to me. I held the papers under the desk lamp and stared at the tiny words.
It was a letter informing us of construction works taking place at the building across from us, along with a photocopy of a council permit. My heart fell as I read the words.
“You’re erecting a scaffold across the entire street? You can’t do that. It’s going to block the entrance to our store!”
“Necessary, I’m afraid.” Grey folded his hands. “It’s a health and safety requirement for my workers. We need to redo the pointing as a matter of urgency. The council has rubber-stamped it. You have another entrance, so it will not be a detriment to your business.”
“Sure, a narrow doorway down a back alley lined with rubbish bins.” Nevermore Bookshop relied on business from tourists dropped off on bus tours at the town green. We were perfectly situated to take advantage of foot traffic from those foreigners wanting their perfect slice of English village life. But even if they could get to our front door through Grey’s scaffold, they’d do their best to avoid the construction noise. We were already in a precarious financial position – a couple of quiet months would do us in.
And there was something else we hadn’t considered. There was an old tunnel between our basement and Mrs. Ellis’ flat across the street. She’d plastered it over in January after we discovered her niece was using it to sneak over to the shop to steal the charity Christmas presents for her pet dog. It would only be a matter of time before Grey discovered it, and I didn’t like the idea of that guy having an easy way into our shop, especially not since the spring that supplied the waters of Meles was down there somewhere.
“Dear, dear, that will rather cut down on foot traffic to your shop,” Gary tsked. “I promise I’ll be as quick as I can with the work, but I do hope you have sufficient savings to see you through this time. Of course, my offer still stands. I’ll happily buy this old dump from you for six times its current worth. You’d get rid of your money woes forever and have enough money to retire in the country.”
“We’re not interested, so stop asking. And stop bothering Oliver,” I snapped. “He’s not going to sell his building to you, either. Some people care about more than money.”
Grey waved his hand. “Oh, but he will. Everyone has their price, and I have an endless pool of money and power from which to draw.”
“Excuse me, sir?” A boy who couldn’t have been older than fifteen came to the counter, glancing between Heathcliff’s glowering face and Grey’s manic one.
“You need to leave,” Heathcliff’s voice was low, his whole body tensed as he glared at Grey. “I don’t want to behead you in front of a customer.”
“Very well.” Grey picked up his briefcase. As he did, he noticed Grimalkin’s offering at my feet. He picked up the mouse by its tail and held it up, licking his lips as if it was some tasty treat. Grey winked at me, then spun around, swinging the mouse by its tail as he headed for the door. A moment later, the bell tinkled, and he vanished from our presence.
What the fuck was that about?
“I—I—I’m sorry.” The boy backed away. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
I turned to the boy and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You actually did us a favor. How can we help?”
The boy held out an ereader. “Could you fix this? The scroll function is stuck.”
Heathcliff glanced from the boy’s face to the device, and back at the boy. Cogs turned in his head.
Uh-oh.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to give him that—” I lunged for the ereader, but Heathcliff held it out of reach.
“Not to worry, lad. I have just the thing.” Heathcliff set the ereader down on his desk and drew something from the drawer. Before I could stop him, he raised the hammer behind his head and brought it down on the unsuspecting device.
SMASH.
Bits of ereader flew everywhere. Sparks flew from the device.
“There you go.” Heathcliff handed it back to the stunned boy. “Good as new.”
Chapter Nineteen
Now that we had an idea where Dracula’s boxes might be, we could move forward with our plan to stop him. Luckily, Bram Stoker had left us with detailed instructions. I found a battered copy ofDraculaon the Classics shelf and thumbed through it, refreshing my knowledge of traditional vampire slaying, and then we got to work.
Armed with theDraculapaperback, Quoth and I left Heathcliff with specific instructions to block up the basement tunnel and get me a meeting with Grant Hosking any way he could. We strolled across the green to the village’s Catholic church. I let out a shudder as I remembered one of the last times I’d rushed into a house of worship to find Ginny Button’s body crumpled at the bottom of the stone steps, and who could forget Brian Letterman garotted in the Sunday school building? Mina Wilde and churches did not mix.
