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Tempest rubbed her thumb across the engraving. Halcyon would have spelled Clement and his sons to the curb, if she’d lived long enough to learn the truth about them. But Clement had always been so kind, so convincing, before her mother’s death.

More proof that you could not judge a book by its cover.

Sooner or later, Tempest knew she’d have to accept she was never getting Owl’s back. She was going to have to gather her courage and leave the bookshop for good.

Tempest removed her gloves and washed her hands. Someone had swapped out her rose-scented soap for something watery, green and chemical. The harsh disinfectant in the new soap stung her sensitive hands that were still tingling from the transfer of all that trivia. Carefully she pulled the soft cotton gloves back on, before heading back out front.

The ABCs were gone when she returned to the desk, but there were slashed boxes strewn all over the floor and books stacked a mile high on the table in the windows. She went to the back to fetch a book cart to facilitate all the juggling she’d need to do. Methodically, she began stacking Dan Wilder’s books onto the cart. Though she was wearing the gloves now she was still getting flickers. She knew for example that Schott’s Original Miscellany by Ben Schott was the author’s favorite book. And that he was afraid of bees.

Tempest didn’t have to look at the jacket photo to picture his face. She’d already memorized it in her mind. Lion shifter, she could tell. His posture, his bearing, the almost but not quite haughty look in his eyes… Everything about Dandelion Wilder was so regal. His hair, a sandy reddish blond, was thick and wavy. His beard was the same color. And he had aquamarine eyes. Her favorite color.

Aquamarine, a variety of beryl, is in the same mineral family as emerald. Its blue-green color comes from trace amounts of iron. Ancient Greek and Roman sailors carried it as a protective talisman. They called it the “treasure of mermaids,” and believed it ensured safe travel, calm seas, and protection against shipwrecks.

That was a nice tidbit. She smiled as she savored it.

Bits of Dan Wilder’s trivia would be raining down around her for days. She wished she could meet him, in real life. And then she shook herself, remembering that his upcoming appearance at Owl’s was the whole reason she was moving all the books around. This thought made her smile again.

Q: What common garden weed takes its name from the king of beasts?

A: The dandelion

From the French dent de lion or “lion’s tooth.” It is a reference to the ragged edges of the leaves. The dandelion is among the most difficult plants in the world to eradicate. The taproot runs meters deep, and pulling the plant without fully extracting the root guarantees its return. Every part is edible and has been used medicinally for centuries. The dandelion does not require good conditions, favorable soil, or anyone’s permission. It grows where it lands.

—Dan Wilder, The Most Important Question: Fanciful Trivia by Dandelion Wilder

TWO

DANDELION’S WISHES

By the time Dan had finished putting the final coat of varnish on the long wooden bar, his shoulders and back were screaming. Sixteen coats in all, if you counted applying the stripper that took off the old veneer. The end product was a warm, tawny amber. It looked golden in the afternoon sun streaming through the front door. He’d propped the door to mitigate the fumes from the varnish. Dan liked the color he’d chosen. It brought to mind fall leaves and the color of his own thick, unruly hair. He hadn’t chosen the color for that reason. Not at all. He was just trying to make do with the oak bar that was already there. It hadn’t even occurred to him that it matched his hair till his grandmother pointed out how fine he’d look standing behind the bar when The Wildernest opened.

The opening was still a way off, but with every task he finished, he felt more prepared. He was getting close. Renovating the bar was the last huge hurdle. Now he only had to sort the seating and scratch up some decor and the tavern would be ready to host the Horner Trivia Circuit Finals, come Samhain. Those things could wait. He was done for today.

A sudden thunk against the door made him look up. A tiny child’s ball bounced in through the door. It bounced a few more times before rolling to a stop at his feet. Dan picked it up and poked his head out the door.

“I think I found something of yours, Leni.” He held out the small rubber ball to the tiny six-year-old witch who was combing through the begonias in search of it.

“Thank you, Dan!” She smiled a broad, toothless grin.

“Anytime.”

On the way back in he bent to retrieve the door stop before closing up.

The solid brass Sphinx was heavier than it looked. The trophy was about the size of a house cat, and it shone like it had just been polished, despite having been shifted from spot to spot on the floor of a gutted, plaster-dusted shell of a tavern for six months. Dan wasn’t sentimental about most of his trophies, but he’d always liked this one. It was earning its keep. It wasn’t merely ornamental; it kept the doors from flying shut. Plus, it would make a great weapon, in a pinch.

Not that a lion shifter like himself had much need for a weapon. He could defend himself with fang and claw, should the need ever arise.

Engraved across the base of the statue, written in block letters, was the inscription:

DANDELION WILDER

NATIONAL TRIVIA CHAMPION

LEAGUE OF GRAND MASTERS

The trophy itself was quite valuable, he suspected. But it was the cash prize he’d been after. He’d bought the tavern with his winnings and the advance from his book. The fame that came with both, however, he could do without.

Dan didn’t feel right leaving the trophy in a building with no working locks. So, every night, before leaving for the day, he wrapped it up in an old flannel shirt and shoved it into his bag. The weight of it made him walk with a list. Fortunately, he didn’t have to walk far. He was renting an apartment from Maida Westabrook, only two blocks away. The apartment was located upstairs from the Mudpuddle Bookshop and Cafe, housed in a gracious old Queen Anne-style house, with a wraparound porch and eyebrow windows that were rumored to wink at you, if the sentient place took a liking to you. Beneath the house, in the well-warded basement, were the Arcane Archives, a repository of unusual artifacts, curiosities and old grimoires. Just the sort of place a nerd like him could really dig in for a while.