“Oh, fine. Go play in the teen section if you want, but don’t let anyone adopt you this time, please.”
Koshka trotted off toward a rainbow-painted door that readTeens Only. He loved being adored and spoiled, and teen girls especially lost their minds over him. He’d been catnapped from the bookstore more than once. But that was fine. He was microchipped. And he always came home by dinner.
Alone, I took the stairs up one level. There was an extra pep in my step, the pride of a job successfully completed.
The stockroom of the bookstore looked like an innocent, friendly, slightly shabby yet charming office. It had a few antique desks, a floral love seat, and a red Moroccan rug. If you pulled back the large rug, you’d find a large rectangle painted on the hardwood floor for the rare occasions when we had to summon fictional characters into the real world (books are rectangular, which is why we use that shape for magic, not pentagrams). We also had an altar in the stockroom, of course, which was actually just a big bookshelf covered in papers, books, and electric candles. Real candles are nicer and spookier, but Book Witches do not mess around with fire.
Mentally, I prepared my report. Quickly and efficiently, I’d gotten Elizabeth Bennet back into her book. I’d also performed a spell on the story to make sure she’d forget her brief adventure in reality. Otherwise she would make a run for it again in a week or two, whenever she next was forced to be in the same room with the Bingley sisters, probably. A job well done. I was certain I’d be greeted with cheers, champagne, at least a pat on the back.
Unfortunately, I wasverywrong.
“You’re late,” Dr. Fanshawe said when she finally deigned to notice me.
“What?” I demanded. “Late how?”
Confused, I glanced around, hoping someone could explain what I’d done wrong. Penny stood up from her chair and shrugged. Poor old Professor Dodsworth also looked terribly confused, but maybe that was because he wore gray Dormouse ears. Even he was celebrating Mad Hatter Day, likely under duress.
“You promised you would have her in her book by the time the sun had set. You didn’t.” Dr. Fanshawe tapped a hardcover copy ofPride and Prejudicewith a long, sharp fingernail.
“You were watching me?”
“Monitoring you,” she said and held up the book. “I felt it the moment Elizabeth Bennet was returned to her story, and it was two minutes after the sun had set.”
“Lizzy said—”
“You call her Lizzy?”
“She told me to,” I answered as I stood in the middle of the floor like a schoolgirl called upon the carpet. “But the book is back to normal. Check it.”
I held out the Words, Words, Words tote bag. Dr. Fanshawe wouldn’t take it, but Penny did.
“Elizabeth Bennet politely requested to watch the sunset,” I said. “It’s all she asked. Was that so wrong?”
“Yes,” Dr. Fanshawe said. “She is a fictional character. Fictional characters belong in books and nowhere else.”
“So I’m supposed to treat her like an escaped zoo animal?”
“Precisely. For her sake if not for the book’s. She could have been killed, drowned—”
“We weren’t swimming,” I said. “Believe it or not, I know what I’m doing. I’ve been a Book Witch for over a decade, and I’ve never lost a character yet.”
“I think she did a very good job,” Penny said. “The book is already fully restored.”
She brandished the copy ofPride and Prejudicefrom the tote bag, demonstrating that the blank pages now bore all the original text.
“See?” I said, pointing to the pages. “Who cares if I got her in two minutes late? She’s back where she belongs.”
“I care,” Dr. Fanshawe said, then held out her hand. “Give me your umbrella.”
“What?” I asked. I looked at Professor Dodsworth, but he only shrugged.
Penny stood up for me, however. “That seemsquiteunfair!”
“It’s only for the time being,” Dr. Fanshawe said. “Only until I’m certain you won’t be using it to attend Mr. Darcy’s wedding. Or planning your own.”
“What? I would never—”
She raised her eyebrow. “Never? We both know better than that.”
