“A few days it is,” he agreed, his eyes warming. An awkward silence filled the living room. Not knowing what to say I played with my locket as the silence stretched. He began to say something then stopped himself. I started to ask what his plans were for the rest of the day, then stopped. I was just in his mind, it was intimate and personal. And now I had no clue what to say to him. The silence stretched.
He cleared his throat. “Um, what time do you have to open the shop?”
The shop! “Around five minutes ago.” I admitted. “I’ll-I’ll see you later.” I turned and all but fled out the door.
I went downstairs and unlocked the store. Before I even turned on the computers, I went into my office and sat down in my chair. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What just happened? Atticus wanted to try. I could barely believe it. I thought he didn't even like me. Then again, there were the little things he did. He helped me with my coat, walked between me and the street, he even buckled my seatbelt before driving to the morgue. But when he spoke... Zahur had been right.
It took some time, and a cup of tea, to clear my head and focus. Out in the store there were still boxes from yesterday that needed to be picked up. I had just turned on the computers when the store phone rang. I answered.
“De Haven Books, how can I help you?”
“Ms. De Haven, this is Mr. Gumner,” an irritated voice announced. I sighed.
“Mr. Gumner, I am so sorry I missed our appointment yesterday. A friend ended up in the hospital and I’m her emergency contact,” I said.
“Sure,” he said. I rolled my eyes.
“She’s going to be alright, by the way.” I barely controlled my voice. “Tomorrow, however, I will be in the store all day if you’d like to come by.”
“I already have appointments tomorrow. I’ll be there the twenty-first. Make sure you are,” he snapped before hanging up the phone. I resisted the urge to throw the hand set. I sat behind the counter and looked at my emptying shelves, a knot of dread filling my stomach. I looked at the list I had printed from the website. I had to ship out half my books today. At least it wasn’t my private collection, yet. I got to work.
The bell over the door chimed. Corrina Soryn strode in, muttering under her breath. The twenty-two year old Romani was a pretty woman. Her long, warm, dark hair was pulled back off her face. Her olive skin was flawless, her square face was stunning. A thin silver nose ring glinted in the store light. Her leather jacket covered a deep green shirt that matched her eyes. Her dark blue skinny jeans were distressed and hugging a body with curves every woman would want. Rina had offers for modeling contracts, but she continually refused so she could go to college to study computer science. She turned and frowned at me as she took off her gray scarf.
“What happened?” I asked. I knew that look on her face.
She began to take off her coat. “My roommate has the loudest brain on the planet,” she announced angrily.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I guessed
“No,” she snapped as she came around the counter and hung her stuff on the hooks there. “It wasn’t bad enough hearing her when I’m studying. I have to listen to her come out to her parents in her dreams too.” I bit back a smile. Rina was a human telepath and was still struggling with her control. I’d been teaching her for the last six months.
“Did you shield before you tried to sleep?” I asked.
She sighed. “Yes. I seem to be missing something.” She leaned on the counter next to me as she eyed the books on the counter.
“We’ll go over it again before you go home today,” I reassured her.
She turned and met my gaze. “What is with the books?”
I looked around the store. “I have to close the store.”
Her eyes grew wide, her mouth opened. “What… why?”
“Gumner,” I said simply. She muttered something under her breath her mother would no doubt have scolded her for.
She sighed. “I’m sorry, Evie.” She wrapped her arm around me and squeezed. “You can still work online.”
I hesitated. “If I can pay off the debt to Gumner without selling my private collection? Yes.”
She squeezed me again. “Have you started calling collectors?”
“Some, I’ll be reaching out to a few others today,” I admitted.
“Losing the store is painful, Evie. But it’s just a place. It isn’t a person and it’s not the end of the world. And it’s not over yet,” she said as she took her arm off me. “Come on, let’s kick some butt so you’ll still have a business.”
I nodded. That was Rina. No tears, no pity. Just empathy and motivation. The woman was amazing. I took a deep breath and let it out. Then we got to work.
Atticus
I walked into the werewolf bar that Evelyn had gone to. According to Ranulf, Evelyn had a friend in the owner. Hoping to get information I stepped into the almost empty bar. A few of the regulars turned to eye me, including the tall blonde werewolf behind the counter. A friend of Evelyn’s if Ranulf’s information was correct.
She watched me with hazel eyes as I moved to the bar across from her.
“Pardon me, I’m looking for Astrid,” I said politely. I needed a favor from the wolves and being rude wouldn’t help.
She ran her eyes over me, her gaze assessing, before her eyes met mine. “That’s me.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “And you must be the asshole who was responsible for Evie getting her legs cut off.” I grew still. She set down the glass she was cleaning.
“Unfortunately, you are not incorrect. I’m Atticus,” I admitted. “News travels fast in this city.”
“How is she?” she asked, bracing her hands on the table. “She didn’t call me so I’m assuming your group took care of her.”
“She’s healed and is back at her store,” I replied.
She shook her head. “Do you even give a shit about the pain you put her through? The damage you did?”
My temper surged, I held it back. This was Evelyn’s best friend, she had the right to be angry. I looked her straight in the eye and told her the truth. “I regret it more than you can imagine.”
Her eyes searched mine and seemed to find what she was looking for. “You care about her?”
“That’s none of your business,” I snapped without thinking.
She smirked. “That’s a big yes.” I reminded myself not to kill the wolf. She leaned on her hands. “Now, what do you want?”
“Information,” I said simply. “Have any of your pack encountered a demon or anything odd over the last week? Heard any rumors of summoning?”
She tilted her head to the side, her brow drawn. “You should go through Evelyn for this.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Evelyn runs this city. She has Treaties with every major species here. If you, a gargoyle, want to ask me, a wolf, questions then you have to go through Evelyn; otherwise I don’t have to answer shit.”
Stunned, it took me a moment to reply, “I know about the Treaties but… Evelyn runs the city?” I couldn’t imagine it. How?
She smiled. “You really haven’t taken the time to get to know her,” she said, surprised.
“It’s none of your business,” I reminded her.
“Oh, it is if you hurt her. And I already know you have.” She leaned forward. “I’ll make you a deal. You answer one of my questions truthfully, and I’ll answer one of yours.”
I clenched my fists at my side. This was ridiculous, but it was the fastest way to get answers. “Alright.”
She smiled. “I’ll go first,” she announced. “Do you care about her?”
“She’s my Match,” I hedged.
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Yes, or no.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes.” A smile spread across her face. “Now, have you or your pack seen anything strange?”
“No, nothing more than the usual. The city has been quiet except for those murders,” she said. “My turn.” She eyed me. “It�
��s not a question, more like advice.”
“Such as?" I asked. She smirked.
“Evie has enough trouble on her plate with her store at the moment. If you care about her, be supportive right now,” she said cryptically.
I clenched my jaw as she picked up the towel and hung it over her shoulder. “As to the rest of your questions, no. No one’s heard any rumors about a summoning. But,” she met my eyes, “you might want to talk to the witches and warlocks. They’ve pushed the limit of their Treaty more than a few times.” She grabbed a napkin and pen, then wrote on it. “This is the only witch I know, she can get you in touch with the others.” She slid the napkin across the bar. “That’s everything I got.”
I picked up the napkin, my mind back on Evelyn. “Thank you.” I tucked it into my breast pocket. I stepped back and headed for the door.
“Evelyn usually works through lunch,” Astrid announced, stopping me in my tracks. Falk had said the same. I turned back to her. “She loves the fish and chips from Sam’s pub on Ninth. Best in town.” Astrid turned her back on me and got back to work.
I left the bar and got into the Mercedes. Fish and chips … she had said it wasn’t too late. I decided to give the others the witch lead and try to have lunch with Evelyn without being an ass.
12
Evelyn
I was on the phone with James Demer in London. He wanted a specific book of mine but he was lowballing me. My fingers were getting sore from tapping on the desk.
“James, I know what this book is worth, so stop lowballing me,” I snapped into the phone. I closed my eyes and licked my lips. Alienating one of the most successful collectors who would be interested in this particular book wouldn’t be smart. “The price I’m asking for is half of what it’s worth; you can turn around and double your investment.”
“I know, Evelyn, but you seem to be in a bit of a bind,” James said, gloating. James and I had been rivals since I bought this particular book out from under him. I propped my elbow on the desk and rested my forehead in my hand.
“So, you have to take advantage of it,” I muttered.
“Of course, it’s just business,” he assured me, his voice cheerful. It wasn’t just business, they were my books.
I sighed. “James, I’m not just going out of business.” The silence on the line was thick. “I’m three months behind on the store rent, which is six digits at this point. I have to sell everything just to pay off the landlord. I might be walking away with nothing here. No books, no money. So, either you buy this book or I’ll have sell it to some low life like Joe Burgess.” Burgess was a creep; he was known to screw over anyone at any time. He bought low and sold high. And he didn’t give a damn about the books.
He cleared his throat. “You’re selling your entire private collection?” he asked, his voice polite.
“Over the next few months, yes.” The bell over the door rang telling me someone was here. Rina had already taken off to her classes.
“I’ll take that book. I’ll buy it off the site immediately. And Evelyn, don’t tell anyone else about your private collection for twenty-four hours, I’ll see what kind of offer I can get together,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t say I’d buy, Evie,” he warned. “I’m going to see what kind of offer I can come up with in that time.”
“I know. But thank you anyway,” I said, my voice tired.
“I’ll let you know by three p.m. your time tomorrow,” he said before hanging up. I hung up the phone and hid my face in my hands. I made the sale, and Demer might be able to buy the rest. I wouldn’t have them, but my books could go to a good collector.
“Evelyn?”
Atticus’s voice had me lifting my head. He was standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed. His eyes ran over me.
I plastered on a smile. “Hi, um, what are you doing here?”
He finished his assessment and met my eyes. “Are you alright?”
I took a breath and let it out. “Yeah, I’m fine. That was just a particularly surly collector.” His gaze didn’t leave mine. “What are you doing here?”
He held up two styrofoam containers. “I thought we could have lunch. Falk mentioned that you usually work through it.”
I caught a whiff of something delicious. “Do I smell chips?” I asked with a grin. My accent clear.
His eyes warmed. “From Sam’s pub, I heard it was the best for fish and chips.” He stepped into the small office. He picked up the only other chair in the office and set it beside my desk. He held a container out to me. I took it with a smile of thanks and sat down. Making sure to move my order list, I set it down on my desk.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down. “I like your office.”
I smiled as I opened my container to find perfectly fried golden fish and chips. Oh, so tasty. “Thank you. I'm a little over organized when it comes to my business." I looked up and met his eyes. The corner of his lips lifted into a grin. It instantly lightened my mood. I opened my stash drawer.
“These are good chips,” he said. “You know, the only thing missing is-”
“Malt vinegar?” I asked as I pulled it out of the drawer and showed him. He did smile this time.
“You are English. I had thought so,” he said. I drizzled the vinegar over my food before passing the bottle to him.
“Yes, I’m English. I was born in London. You?” I asked, letting my accent out again. I popped a piece of fish into my mouth. Realizing we didn’t have napkins I reached down into my stash drawer again and pulled a few out.
“I was born in Northern England, the Manchester area,” he said, his northern accent slipping out. I smiled to myself. I had always liked a northern accent on a man. I handed him some napkins. “Thank you.”
“So, when did you first guess I was English?” I asked curious.
He grinned. “When I watched you make a proper cup of tea.”
I chuckled. “Ah, that always gives me away. I can’t not make tea properly, it’s just not in me.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he countered.
I shrugged. A couple heartbeats went by before I asked, “Atticus, tell me about yourself?”
His face was closed off as he wiped his mouth on his napkin. “What would you like to know?”
“Anything you’re willing to share.”
He took a deep breath before answering. “I come from a rather well-respected bloodline, I was an only child, my parents died when I was ten. Then I was adopted by-”
“I didn’t mean cold hard facts, Atty.” I grinned as his eyes narrowed at the nickname. “I meant, tell me about you. What’s your favorite food? Color? What do you love to do?”
“That diminutive isn’t going anywhere, is it?” he asked, slightly irritated.
I smirked. “Nope.”
“I like books,” he admitted quietly. “As the Council’s Historian I spend a lot of time with books and preserving our records.”
“That explains the parchment,” I said to myself.
“Parchment?” he asked. I looked up to meet his gaze.
“You smell like parchment. I had wondered why,” I admitted before going back to my meal. There was comfortable silence for a few minutes.
“What about you?” he asked. I lifted my head. "We never got to finish talking about your family, or what you did after they passed.”
“They were… normal, I guess,” I began, trying to remember. “They loved each other. They still acted like teenagers in love by the time I came along.”
“When were you born?” he asked as he tore off a piece of fish.
“1823.”
He grinned as he looked up from his food. “Perhaps I should have asked, when is your birthday?”
“Oh.” My face warmed. “May twenty-eighth. When’s yours?”
“April seventh,” he said as he used his napkin.
I raised an eyebrow. “What year?”
His left eyebrow twitched. “1534
.”
“That’s a lot of birthdays,” I teased.
“You were telling me about your parents,” he reminded me.
I bit back a smile. “They were great. Both were determined to prepare me in case something happened to them. So, a lot of studying and lessons.” I looked down at my chips. “Turns out they were right.”
“I’m sorry, Eve, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he said quietly.
I looked at him. “It’s alright.” I leaned back in my chair and continued, “After that, I sold the house. I traveled here and there. Then I came to the States. Worked, killed demons, and anyone who broke the laws.”
His eyes ran over me. “So, you just traveled?”
I nodded. “Scotland, Ireland, Siberia, even China and Japan. I just never stayed in one place for too long. A month at most.”
“Until Chicago?” he asked, wiping his fingers his napkin.
“Until Chicago,” I admitted. “I’d been collecting books for years, selling them as I traveled. Even working here and there.” I met his eyes. “I got tired of never having a home. So, when I got here, I stayed.”
His eyes were shadowed as he watched me. “You were alone the entire time, weren’t you?”
I finished my bite before answering. “I met people here and there, but if you mean close friends? Then yes, I was alone.” I shrugged as if it didn’t matter as I went back to eating.
“Why Chicago?” he asked softly. How was I going to explain this?
“I got here and it… felt like home. It was the first place that made me want to stay,” I tried to explain. I didn’t know if he would understand, but it was the only answer I had.
“Which is why you didn't want to leave with us,” he surmised.
“There are a few other reasons,” I said quietly.
“Like Astrid,” he offered. “She’s the first friend you’ve had in over a century.”
I resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze. “That’s one of them.”
The silence stretched as I went back to my lunch.
“Why have you forgiven me so easily?” Atticus asked. I grinned as I looked up from my meal. “I expected yelling, insults, recriminations. But you’ve just... forgiven me.” He looked baffled.
Found (Books of Stone Book 1) Page 16