Antaris shakes his head.
“If you ever have questions about your mom, or want to hear stories about her, I’ll tell you.”
Until then, Hiram leaves to give him space.
The next ten minutes are heavy with silence until Antaris emerges carrying a stack of books. His expression is blank, his eyes wet. Hiram wants to help, but Antaris simply places the books on the table and returns to his bedroom. The top title catches his eye.The Hidden Powers of Rituals and Oddities. Likely one of Grace’s mixed in with others. She specialized in obscure magic and rituals, and spent most of her career helping the Unseen readjust to their new normal of having to monitor their magic like a Mage.
As soon as Hiram puts it on a shelf, Antaris returns, struggling with another armful of books. Then a third. Hiram doesn’t understand until Antaris peers up at the first bookcase.
Ah, there’s no space.
Hiram adjusts his arrangement on one shelf, then two. It’s still not enough.
“I think we need another bookshelf.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Want to get out of the house?”
Fresh air does Antaris wonders. Sadness lingers—Hiram doubts it will ever fully leave—but at least he’s no longer hiding like in those first few weeks. It’s Saturday, and the stores are crowded with families.Antaris sticks close, frowning at misbehaving kids. Hiram has to stifle his amusement more than once.
The bookshelves they choose won’t fit in his car, so Hiram arranges for delivery. Normally they eat lunch at home, but the weather is warm, and the sun is bright. Hamburgers at Lewie’s Diner sound better.
Some people recognize Hiram; more look puzzled or intrigued by Antaris’s presence. The waitress is charmed by the silent, well-behaved boy. Hiram barely notices anyone else. He’s watching his son’s mood improve, especially when the elderly waitress offers him a free scoop of ice cream and a wink.
Hiram catches Antaris watching him, and he raises both hands. “It’s all yours.”
Only then does his son eat.
Later, as they drive home, Hiram checks the rearview mirror. Antaris is watching the world rush past, hair flopping in the wind.
“How about one more stop?”
Antaris nods.
It’s just before two o’clock, and the library is packed with children and families. Unbeknownst to Hiram, it’s story time. One hopeful glance from Antaris, and Hiram knows he’s about to spend twenty minutes on the floor. He stays for the first story, glancing repeatedly at his enraptured son. When the second story begins, Antaris wants to stay, so Hiram tells him he’ll go look for a book. While the story unfolds, Hiram roams the aisles in search of something to catch his attention.
What he finds is the last thing he expects to see. After years of being nothing more than a footnote in a surreal night, now Veda is everywhere.
Despite the crowd, she stands alone in the amulet section, seemingly undecided about which book to choose. Torn between irritation and curiosity, Hiram considers ignoring her but calls his own bluff. He’s always been a glutton for punishment.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he declares.
Veda closes her eyes and exhales before looking at him, unimpressed. “To what do I owe this latest displeasure?”
“I saw you and thought it would be more polite to speak than threaten magical violence.”
“But not nearly as fun.”
Hiram smirks. “I see you’ve acquired a sense of humor.”
“Funny how you mistake sarcasm for humor. You can’t catch a hint.”
“Speaking of hints, call your advocate off. I’m sick of his cryptic word salad.”
Veda looks confused, then her eyes widen slightly. “Wait.Clinton?”
“Who else?”
She laughs. “He’s got a knack for popping up in places, but I didn’t set him on you. Cosmos only knows what he’s Seen.”
Hiram frowns. “So it wasn’t you—”
