The bell chimed again. This time, Ramona’s stomach dropped.
Marcus.
He pushed through the door in his usual outfit — a turtleneck and approximately forty necklaces layered over each other. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he had that serene smile that meant he was about to ask Ramona to do something very annoying.
“Ramona!” he said, arms spread wide like he hadn’t seen her in years instead of one day. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Hey, Marcus.” Ramona’s brain scrambled. Zara was right there, standing by the discount bin, very obviously not a normal customer. “I thought you weren’t in until Thursday?”
“I’m not. Just swinging by to grab the deposit bag. Left it in the office yesterday.” He glanced past her, noticed Zara. “Oh! A customer. Wonderful.”
Zara had gone very still. Her expression was perfectly neutral — the kind of neutral that screamedI am pretending to be humanbut achieved more of a mannequin quality.
“She’s just browsing,” Ramona said quickly.
“Take your time!” Marcus called to Zara, his voice too loud for the small space. “Let me know if you need any guidance on your spiritual journey.”
Zara nodded once, silent.
Marcus headed toward the back office, weaving through the displays. “How’s the morning been? Any interesting customers?”
“Just the usual.” Ramona followed him, positioning herself between Marcus and Zara. “Tourists. A few locals.”
“Wonderful, wonderful.” He disappeared into the office — really just a converted storage closet with a desk and a filing cabinet that hadn’t been opened in the two years Ramona had been here.
Ramona caught Zara’s eye and jerked her head toward the back, trying to signal to the demon that her mannequin moment should turn into casual browsing.
Zara, blessedly, understood. She drifted toward the back of store, picking up books one at a time.
Ramona exhaled.
“Found it!” Marcus emerged with a blue bank bag. “You know, Ramona, I’ve been thinking we should host regular events at the new place. It’s so much bigger. Maybe a new moon circle? Or a crystal renewal workshop?”
“That all sounds great,” Ramona said, only half paying attention as she watched Zara robotically lift books off the shelf without even looking at them.
“Exactly! Which is why you’d be perfect for planning it for Dylan.” He patted her shoulder. “Think about it. I’ll check in Wednesday.”
He was gone before Ramona could argue, the bell chiming his exit.
She waited thirty seconds. Then she walked to the back of the shop. Zara was holding a book in one hand and had apparently been in the process of placing it back on the shelf when she’d frozen.
“Coast is clear,” Ramona said.
Zara set down the book. Carefully. On a shelf that Ramona now realized was organized alphabetically by author.
“Are you—” Ramona looked closer. “Are you alphabetizing the romance novels?”
“I was browsing.”
“You’re literally organizing the books.”
“Your system is inefficient, Mortal.”
“There is no system. That’s the point.”
“Exactly.” Zara picked up another book, checked the author, slid it into place between two others. “Which is why I’m creating one.”
Ramona stared at her. At the demon from Hell who had apparently decided that the most pressing issue in her life was the organizational structure of Mystic Moon Books’s romance novel section.
