In a daze, I passed a sign that said “Welcome to Tall Timbers” and entered the downtown area. Tall Timbers? Say what now? There absolutely definitely was no such town near Red Sands. But I’d only been driving for a few minutes.
A street sign told me I was on Main Street. I glided past a Laundromat, a grocery store, a hardware store, a barbershop, a clothes emporium, and a shoe shop. I finally came to a stop in front of a bookstore coffee shop called Magic Beans. There were telephone poles. Cars. A couple of women walking side by side and pushing strollers toward a park.
No wolves.
I reached for my purse. My stomach lurched in panic as I realized I’d left it behind in my car. I had no money, I had no cell phone. And I was driving a van that was technically stolen, although I’d stolen it from a vanload of kidnappers, so maybe the two crimes canceled each other out?
Maybe they’d let me make a phone call inside the bookstore. I sucked in a breath, slid out of the van, and walked in.
I was greeted by the aroma of coffee and steamed milk and the most adorable bookstore to ever snatch my heart and make it sing. There were black beanbag chairs and comfy armchairs arranged in little groupings around legless tables made from round cross-section slices of tree trunks. Each bookshelf was decorated like a showpiece in someone’s home, with artfully stacked books and little statuettes that were themed by genre. The romance section had hearts, a cupid, and a Romeo and Juliette diorama. The mystery section had a bust of Edgar Allan Poe, a raven, and assorted Sherlock Holmes memorabilia.
There were also plant pots everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling, ivy draped over the shelves, plants adorning every table in the coffee shop.
I saw a few people sitting on beanbags, chatting and sipping coffee. They glanced at me curiously and then pretended to resume their conversation while sneaking glances at me. I guess they weren’t used to a lot of strangers in this place?
Wherever this place was.
Well, I might have been lost and fleeing from crazy kidnappers who turned into wolves, and I might have overheard one of the werewolves claiming that he knew who my dad was, but at least I was in a bookstore. I love bookstores. I’d move into a bookstore and live there if I could.
I wandered over to a bookshelf and picked up an absolutely gorgeous hardcover with gilt-edged pages. I brought it up to my nose and smelled it. Ahh, the smell of books…I wished someone could bottle it and sell it.
I glanced at the cover.A History of Our Realmwas the title, with pictures of witches and wolves and a forest backdrop. How cool! I loved fairy tales. Then I glanced at the price, saw it was forty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents, and also remembered I had no purse and I couldn’t afford it even if I did have my money with me. Carefully, I set it back down.
Glancing around the store, I spotted two women working there. One of them was an Asian woman with a pink streak in her hair, and she was behind the register ringing up a purchase.
The other woman with dark, springy curls came out from behind one of the bookshelves and waved at me. She walked over to me with an expression of interest. She smelled delicious; I’d never come across that perfume before. Breathing it made me a little tingly, as if she was somehow wearing an intoxicating drug.
She was wearing jeans, a T-shirt—and a conical black hat with a wide brim.
So—she was a witch. I was in a crazy magic alternate universe and I’d just seen werewolves, so—why not witches?
She saw me glancing at her hat and plucked it off with a laugh. “Oh my God! I forgot I was wearing this. I found it in the back with a box of our old Halloween display stuff. I’m such a dork.” She plucked it off her head.
So—not awitch.
The other woman, done with her purchase, walked up to us. She wore a paisley print maxi dress and a denim vest accented with ropes of painted wooden beads around her neck.
“I thought the hat suited you.” She grinned at her coworker. She stuck her hand out and I shook it. “I’m Juniper.” She smelled spicy and sweet.
Where the heck did these women do their perfume shopping? I was almost getting high off the scent.
“Your store is amazing,” I told her. “I love the plants.”
“Thank you!” the curly-haired woman said. “My name is Fionnulla. And the store belongs to our coven. We just work here.Most of the plants are for sale too, if you’re interested. Green magic is my thang.” She held up her hand and caressed a potted ivy. Tendrils shot out and swarmed over a nearby bookshelf, encasing several books and making her jump.
“Eep,” she said. “Don’t know my own strength sometimes.”
So—shewasa witch.
My alarm must have shown on my face. I took a step back, trying to be subtle about it, and banged into a table of children’s books, knocking over a stuffed toy sheep. “Are you okay?” Juniper squinted at me in confusion. “She looks pale,” she said to Fionnulla. “Maybe we should brew her a potion.” She focused her gaze on me again. “Describe your symptoms. My magic is in the drinks I make. They’re mood enhancers and mild healing potions.”
“Do you know anything about werewolves trying to kidnap maids?” I blurted out.
“You mean…shifters? Trying to kidnap mates?” Juniper asked.
Mates. OK, that madesomuch more sense. Because wolves had mates. And truly, nobody in their right mind would want me to be their maid.
“It’s a custom for some packs. I can’t say I approve,” Fionnulla said. “The White Fang pack would never. The Iron Claw pack is just one town over, though, and I wouldn’t put anything past them. Did one of them try to kidnap you?”
