Shit, Nora’s bags of potion supplies are still sitting behind me. I should put them away before my meeting. But if I do that, then I won’t have time to eat. If missing lunch had me stumbling earlier, then missing dinner will only make it worse.
I’m going to fumble this sale. The Amur is going to want something for an extension on the tithe. If I do that, then Lucas will be livid. Fighting with my business partner over Guildmatters is my least favorite activity. Oh fuck, where is my pen? I need to note this sale.
My pen clatters to the ground and I hit my head on my counter when I scoop it up. Hissed obscenities erupt from me and I slam the pen on the counter. I force myself to take a deep breath, my heartbeat racing in my ears, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
The glimpse of the darkness outside got to me. A damn shame, but a shame I cannot ignore. I can almost hear my dear aunt’s soft voice in my ear as she tells me to anchor down within my body, to hold the air within my filled lungs for eight agonizing seconds before releasing slowly. The memory of her arms around me prickles along my pebbling skin.
You are home. And you are safe. Say it, my little love.
My lips tingle when I whisper, “I am home. And I am safe.”
The steady drum of my heart becomes louder as the buzzing of my panic drifts away. The pace slows from its race, and from far off, a twin heart beats. My lips soften and curl at the edges. My pulse syncs with the heart of my shop, my beloved pentagram that makes my dreams a reality. The two threads of magic that reside in my aching soul hum within my calming heart. A twinge of pain is familiar, almost like an old friend after all these years.
Slowly, I return to myself with blessed steadiness. I finish marking the sale in my ledger and tuck it away. The glint of chrome catches my eye, and I withdraw my hand mirror; checking my disguise isn’t a bad idea.
My coppery long hair that I can’t bring myself to cut is still tucked up under the short brown hair I don as Aster Rosemont. Combined with the hazel that masks my green Androclaria eyes, the glamour is pretty, but forgettable, just the way I like it. I’ve grown fond of it over the years, like a comfortable second skin that I get the pleasure of sliding on and off daily with my slacksand shirtsleeves. My previous life within the Astrum Order was constricted by social norms of corsets and gowns. Now, I can be who I wish to be, wear what I feel like. I love that almost as much as I love my bookshop—asshole grimoires and all.
A ripple shivers up my spine as my shop’s heart pulses. Peripeteia’s password, the one whispered between collectors looking for something a little more illicit, has been activated. My new inquirer has arrived. I tuck away my mirror and answer the call, allowing only a single visitor to enter.
The power of the heart’s pentagram that operates my bookshop steals my breath, the magic of my own design heady even after four years of owning this place. The shop changes, morphing into its true form at last, the lights dimming, my movement slowing as I straighten to face the entrance.
The door jingles, the sound oddly echoing with the shift, the innocent front sliding within itself like a trick door. The walls groan as the crystals within glass casings slide from the walls to replace the gas lamps. The familiar, glittering light of the forged magic illuminates my dear shop. The dancing light ripples like it’s filtered through a water’s surface, casting dark shadows within the stacks to create a delightfully haunted ambiance.
The books suck inward like a foul watery creature plucks them from the dark waters’ surface. A gleeful, malevolent pulse stutters my heart when grimoires emerge from their prison to take their places along the shelves. Some are as small as pocketbooks, others are behemoths that warp the wooden shelves with their size. A hiss of excitement echoes, pages ruffling like a preening flock of birds.
I let my hip slide to the side and my voice drops an octave, the purr dancing on tendrils of incense that appear on my counter. “Welcome to Peripeteia, traveler…”
But the words die on my lips, my eyes widening. Standing in my shop’s shadowy entryway is a weaver, his icy blue eyesglowing with power. I can’t breathe as my lips soundlessly form his name.
Valentin Bauer the Sixth has found me.
CHAPTER 2
It’s been seven years since I last saw the Heir to the Bauer family. Back then, my vision was too blurred with hot tears of rage to make Valentin out clearly. The teenager I once loved is a shadow of the man invading my shop. Everything that made him so damn delicious has unfairly improved with age. His lithe body moves like a smoothly coiled snake as he strolls towards me, his long legs carrying him up the three steps from the door to the main landing, his pace unhurried. His short, nearly black hair is meticulously groomed, the crystal light dancing on the sheen of the pomade. His blue eyes are the same glacial pools that captivated me so completely when I didn’t know better.
I risk a quick glance towards the entrance. No army of weavers storms in to capture me, which is good, all things considered. Not that they could get through my wards with the password activated. The only other person who could pass through is still off on his acquisition for another week. Whether that is a curse or a blessing is yet to be determined.
I quickly scan the stacks and note the continued absence of a certain irritable black cat. If Jinx didn’t bother waking from her nap, then I shouldn’t be in immediate danger.
Theclickof Valentin’s polished shoes echoes too loudly on my bookshop floor. My throat works, my heart kicking into a hammering rhythm. My former lover stands before me, the counter the only thing separating us.
I half expect my breath to mist from the way Valentin’s icy blue eyes glow in the dim light. Valentin’s gaze slides up and down my body in that cold, calculating way that reminds me so painfully of his father, the Preservation Councilor. A small smile, which used to make me weak in the knees, transforms Valentin’s cold face into something affectionate. I should’ve known changing my hair and eye color wouldn’t work on him.
The velvety smooth quality of his voice turns the sound of my name into a devastating weapon, “Tori.”
“Fuck you.” I didn’t mean to spit the words out, but rage roared to life the moment his voice dared to make my insides shiver. “Say what you want and get out.”
Valentin’s charm oozes off him as he teases, “So harsh, after seven long years. Not even an offer of tea or refreshments?” He clicks his tongue. “Your hospitality skills are lacking.”
I used to dream of what I would do when facing Valentin again. The fantasies ranged wildly from stabbing his perfect face with a letter opener to riding him with abandon in the back room. I’m fairly certain the second one is not going to happen. My teeth grind, and the books shrink back in their stacks.
“What do youwant, Valen?”
The use of his moniker makes his eyes flare, the sight sending a stone dropping in my stomach. It was a slip of the tongue and might’ve cost me something in this damn game I know he’s playing. Tension tightens within me as he leans on the counter to rest on folded arms. It brings him closer to me and I fight the urge to step back. Or worse, step forward.
He offers his most charming smile, his head tilting endearingly again. His teeth are as perfect as the rest of hisappearance. In contrast to the dust bunnies that drift among the overstuffed bookcases, there’s not a speck of dust or stray hair on his charcoal gray three-piece suit.
“What if I told you I came to see your new place?” His icy eyes scan the back counter, gliding around the walls to linger on the books, a few of them leaning out like nosy neighbors. The air shimmers, the tang of magic sharp on my tongue. “Peripeteia is an unusual name. I imagine those tittering humans have issues pronouncing such a thing.”
