Because Seth had definitely not said anything about them. And she didn’t remember seeing them mentioned in the guidebook either. She pulled it out of the bike basket, propped it up on the handlebars, and flipped to the glossary to make sure. Then was startled to see them listed. As if she’d just missed them there.
Even though she knew for a fact she hadn’t.
She would have absolutely noticed this listing in the book—mostly because it opened up a whole other avenue in her head. Now, suddenly, she had to addmythologicalbeings alongside the more traditionallysupernaturalsorts of things and the wholereligiousaspect.
So what exactly did this mean?
If the book didn’t describe everything, did that suggest it didn’t always know? Did it show the same things to everyone who read it? Or did certain things only exist inside its pages if it realized you believed in them?Like in that weird movie Seth found on Netflix about the Vikings, she thought,when one of them doesn’t think Valhalla is real, and so it isn’t to him.
Though of course she couldn’t be sure.
Until she glanced down at the book again. And there it was, right by her thumb at the bottom of the glossary page. “Yep, you’re absolutely correct, that is exactly how it works.”
At which point, she almost threw the damn thing. She had to fight just to slap it closed and stuff it back in the basket. And she wobbled as she set off. In fact, she wobbled all the way past the library. She saw Tabitha inside, frowning with concern as she zigzagged by, but couldn’t do anything about it. Her leg muscles didn’t seem to have the power anymore to make the bike run smoothly. Or in a straight line.
So it wasn’t a surprise when she almost ran into someone.
She just wished the someone hadn’t been Mr. Hannigan.
Because the thing was, Mr. Hannigan was the sort of person who grabbed your handlebars when you veered too close to him.Or even when you didn’t. She remembered him doing it a dozen times to her and Seth when they’d rode on the same one together. Her in the saddle, Seth up front. Hannigan always ready to tell them that they were a disgrace, riding in such a manner.
And he did the same now.
“Cassandra Camberwell, still a nasty little beast, I see,” he hissed as he slapped a hand down too close to hers on the left handlebar. And so firmly and forcefully that she came close to flying off the thing. The back wheel almost lifted off the road; the front wheel screeched and skewed a little to the left.
She had to hang on for dear life.
Then automatically tried to get away.
She twisted the handlebars and backpedaled. But of course, if he was strong enough to stop a bike in its tracks like that, then he was strong enough to stop her from riding away. And he did. He held her fast. He watched her squirm like a worm on a hook.
And when she looked up at him again, something else was there.
The writhing ghost of a smile, concealed beneath that tombstone face. Like he was enjoying watching her struggle. “Ohnowyou’re in a hurry,” he said, then he leaned close, so close she could see strands of yellow saliva oozing between his enormous teeth. “Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you meandered around, mouth open like a fish, almost running into your betters.”
Did he say ‘betters?’her mind popped out.
But he had released the handlebars, so it was hard to answer that question. She was too busy focusing on getting away from him, before he did something worse. Though naturally he did something worse anyway. “You go about your business in a seemly fashion, Cassandra Camberwell,” he bellowed after her, as she swerved across the street, and careened around a car, and finally somehow found herself in front of Nancy’s bookstore.
Accidentally, she assumed.
Although once she was in front of that pumpkin-and cobweb-and-book-filled window, she didn’t think it had been an accident.She thought maybe her brain had automatically searched for a safe haven. For a place where words like “seemly” and “betters” had no effect.
And it had found this place.
And it had been right to.
The second she was inside she felt like her normal adult self again. But not just because she was surrounded by shelves stuffed with books, and lighting that reminded her of reading by candlelight in a fat little armchair. No—there was also Nancy, who looked up from the counter tucked into the corner, the moment she wheeled in.
And instead of (very reasonably) sayingbikes go outside, she squealed. And launched herself at Cassie. “I knew you’d come,” she said as she hugged Cassie so tight her ears popped. Then once the hugging was through, “I even had a feeling just now that it would be today.”
Which, taken on its own, meant nothing.
But given everything else that had happened over the last week, felt slightly suspicious.
I’m giving out witch signals now, Cassie thought. And rather than telling herself that this was silly, she found herself glancing back over her shoulder, out the store’s window. To the place where Hannigan had stood, but now no longer was.
Go about your business in a seemly fashion, she went over in her head again.
