Page 47 of Veil of Blood and Bone

“They’re gossips, and you know it. They only came in here because they heard about what you did yesterday. And did anyone ask you how you were? No. Not once.”

“No one knows what I did.” Hell, I don’t know what I did.

My muscles are loose and limber rather than tense. After a fight like the one I had, wouldn't my body feel it? This physique isn’t made for running. Or physical activity beyond my twice a month free class.

Mom's training.

I shake the thought loose and crush it underfoot.

Audra limps back to her stool and settles with a flounce of fabric from her peasant blouse. She hauls the books onto her lap, finding the appropriate page and marking it with a jab of her finger.

“Don’t tell them.” Her voice goes soft. “Any of them. Don’t say a word to any of these vultures. They don’t understand.”

She’s right. I bend to grab a box Barnes dropped off and rest it on my hip.

“I know,” I reply. “You have things handled here?”

“You mean against the hordes of villagers who want to talk about us? Yes, I think I have it covered. And if any of them get too frisky then I’ll beat them with my crutch.”

“Or the hardbacked Mark Twains over there. They pack a wallop.”

I wink at Audra and head back into no man’s land. Cobwebs drape intricate designs onto the lower shelves, and the books, rather than gleam, resign themselves to a dusty dull existence.

I bend and drop the box.

“I see Dickenson needs a little love. Don’t you worry. We’re going to get you gleaming in no time.”

Smiling, knees cracking slightly on liftoff, I grab a package of cleaning supplies from the office. The lemon Pledge was a favorite of my Mom’s, too.

Another blistering wave of nostalgia lands as I scrub a clean path across the shelf and then unpack the novels, arranging them by size first.

“You guys are going to look great with the pressed flower frames. I think I’ll shift them over.” I talk to the books while I work and brush loving fingers over their spines.

It may take a long time but someone is going to come in and love them again. They were adored once, I’m sure of it. Most of these publications came from private collections, and I add the newest stash among them.

This store has a life of its own. Things move when I don’t expect it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s a sanctuary, a safe place to hide when life gets too heavy.

When is it not heavy?

I stretch, hands at the small of my back, working out the kinks. The regular ones and not the ones from fighting a troll.

It was probably some poor creature who got too close to a chemical spill. Where was the nearest power plant?

And I’d killed it.

The stranger mentioned something about being trained to fight, about remembering how to do it.

How could I remember something I never learned?

“A handsome psychopath,” I mutter.

Aren’t they all?

The sign on the front door jingles again.

Audra doesn’t offer a greeting to our newcomer. But the footsteps are real, the sound of them and the vibrations coming from every heavy stomp. My heart echoes the tempo before the light dies.

Forest blots out the exit.