“What do you want to do?” I called out. “To move a story forward, fictional characters need to want something. Have a goal! A purpose! Will it into being!”
Duke pulled me to him, covering my head with his arms as more of the ceiling crashed down around us.
“I want us to be safe somewhere together!”
And suddenly, just like magic, we were.
Chapter Four
It happened that fast, like someone had clicked a button on a slideshow. One second we were in the hat shop andclick—we were somewhere else entirely.
Duke, Koshka, and I were in the middle of an office. What office? I couldn’t tell. The only light in the room came from a gas streetlamp burning outside the window.
Duke walked over to a desk and switched on a brass lamp with a green shade.
“How are you, darling? All in one piece?”
I gasped, slapping a hand over my mouth when I saw the door. It had a panel of frosted glass with a name painted on it in gold letters. And although the letters were backward, I knew what they said.
I lowered my hand. “This is your office. This is the Duke of Chicago’s office.”
“You’re far more impressed by that than you should be. Perhaps if we were in my bedroom…” he said with a wink. Then he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the rack. In his pin-stripe vest and shirtsleeves, he looked slightly less intimidating but even more handsome.He came behind me and helped me off with my coat, which I enjoyed much too much. He hung it up next to his on the rack. Our coats, side by side. I’d had dreams like this…
“Where did our friend go? And what on earth was he saying?” Duke asked while I tried to calm my racing heart.
“X? He’s back in the real world,” I said.
“How on earth—”
“It was a spell,” I said. “For some reason people tend to think Latin works better for magic.” While we Book Witches used umbrellas to delicately and carefully go in and out of stories, Burners used lighters to burn holes in and out. Another thing to repair once I got back home.
“So he’s gone away? We’re safe?”
In the lamplight, I gave myself a once-over. My suit was pin neat, not a speck of dust to be seen. Koshka leapt onto the desk and began to groom his paws. But that was only force of habit. He was fine too.
“Gone for good, I hope, but at least for now. You scared him off with that earthquake stunt.”
“Thank God,” Duke said. “I was dying to be alone with you. And you, comrade.” He bent and gave Koshka a little pat on his head, then rose up and looked around. “How the devil are we in my office? Did you do this with your”—he wiggled his fingers in the air—“bookwitchcraft?”
“I have some interesting abilities, but this kind of scene change is not one of them,” I said. “Burners can destroy stories and Book Witches can restore them, but only a fictional character can take over a plot from the inside and change it like you did. Which I appreciate. I really did not want to be burned again.”
“Again?” He spun and faced me.
“Oh, I was burned in a story once. Didn’t enjoy it. Don’t recommend it. Zero out of five stars.”
“Were you injured?”
“A little,” I said and pulled up my sleeve. “Not much.”
The burn scar was about the size of a playing card, pink and smooth and not very pretty.
His eyes widened. “Rainy, that’s an enormous scar.”
“We don’t call them Burners for nothing,” I said and started to roll my sleeve back down. Duke caught my hand and held it.
“May I?” he asked.
“If you want.”
