I didn’t take a seat. Instead, I studied the contents of the shelf to my left. There were no books at all, but plenty of artsy junk: vases, hand-blown glass balls, and expensive-looking plates hand-painted in silver and gold balance, precarious on silver stands.
“Are you an art collector as well?”
I jumped. A soft laugh filled the office. I turned to see a middle-aged man with black hair, the same man I’d met at the auction: Aki Volan. He was of Asian descent, with high cheek bones and silver eyes, inky black hair that spilled down his forehead. Golden scales peaked out from under the cuffs of his sleeves and dotted the back of his neck. He wore a purple shirt that matched Lynn’s skirt with silver vest over it and black slacks. He looked like he’d just returned home from a fancy gala of some kind.
“We meet again, Miss Lear,” he said, gesturing toward the chairs as he made his way around the desk. “Though I don’t believe we were properly introduced. I am Aki Volan. I believe I have something that may be of interest to you.”
He sat, so I finally took a seat. It felt rude not to.
“You do?” I asked, sitting up straight.
I’d told him about the book back at the auction house. Had he found it?
“Indeed,” he said. “So I thank you for coming.”
I wanted to point out how I hadn’t really had a choice but thought better of it.
“What do you have?”
He smiled. “You cut to the chase. I appreciate that. I prefer to skip the small talk myself.”
He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a manila envelope. He slid papers out of it and set one on the desk in front of me.
I glanced down at it and gasped. It was a photograph reprinted on Xerox paper, but the photo itself had been old, with sepia tones and torn edges. In it, there was a book on a table amongst other books: Curses and Cures. The title was printed in gold letters across the leather cover.
“This is the book you seek,” Aki said.
My mouth went dry, and I pulled the photo closer. I wanted to reach in and grab it out of the picture and hold the darn book in my hands.
“Do you have it?”
“No. But after you mentioned it at the auction, I went hunting for it. I believe a copy has been floating around the Pacific Northwest for several years. Unfortunately, locating it has proven troublesome. It never seems to remain in one person’s hands for long.”
He smiled, and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to sympathize or if he meant to hint at a reason why that was.
“Tell me about it,” I said. “I’ve tracked down half a dozen former owners and all of them got rid of it.”
“Some say that’s because the book itself is cursed.” His golden eyes glittered.
A shiver ran down my spine. The book had been part of an estate sale, though it sounded like the woman had died of natural causes, and one owner had died in a fire, so it was possible. But several people had held onto it for years without problem.
“I can see you’re skeptical of such a notion,” Aki said. “That is wise. To be honest, I don’t believe that myself. I simply think it is rare and valuable, and such items have a way of becoming hard to lay one’s hands on. Doubly so when magic is involved.”
“Why does Ellianne want it?” I was thinking aloud, not really asking Aki, but he answered.
“Perhaps she wants to try and wield its curses or utilize its cures, though all of its magic, while powerful, is old witch magic, not the sort of thing a fae would normally bother with. Perhaps she wants it for her collection.” He pulled the photo of the book closer to himself and turned it around to face him. “Or perhaps she only wants it because she knows you will struggle to retrieve it for her.”
My blood froze, his words hitting every raw nerve. I’d considered that possibility.
“Can she do that? Ask for a favor she think is impossible?”
“No,” Aki said immediately. “Not impossible. But she can make it very hard for you to succeed.”
I thought of the times I’d caught glimpses of white hair and the way my room had been searched.
“Can she try and stop me? Like, try to get the book first?”
“That would not be in good faith with the bargain you made. Some would say it’s cheating.” He folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “But she could enlist help to impede you, as long as she didn’t ask for that directly.”
I stared, almost not wanting to understand. But it made sense. The white hair, the smell of pine and snow wafting over my ruined bedroom… Of course, Ellianne wouldn’t try to nab the book because she wanted it–she knew darn well I’d happily hand it over to her–but she might send someone to steal it away before I could get it to her, because then she could force me to do even more favors.
I swallowed, my mouth dry.
“You look unhappy.”
“She set me up.” Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but I felt the world crumbling down around me. “She wants me to fail. She knows the book is nearly impossible to locate, and on the off chance I do find it, she’s sent some friend of hers to take it from me so that I can’t hand it over. It was always a set up.”
“Perhaps,” Aki said, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. “Or perhaps she’s merely testing your resolve.”
My stomach churned. “My resolve? I’ve done nothing for three days but look for this book. My best friend became a vampire and my—my roommate is about to fight another werewolf to the death, and I’ve been entirely focused on this one stupid task, and the whole time Ellianne has wanted me to fail. It’s all been some stupid faerie game so she can trick more obligation out of me.”
If I knew Aki even a little better, I would have pressed my forehead against his desk and collapsed then and there. After all, what was the point of playing a rigged game? If I was going to end up owing Ellianne a million favors anyway, I might as well take a freaking nap. And then I could go home and offer Raff whatever support I could. After all, he’d done everything in his power to help me, and now that he needed someone by his side, I was running around on a wild goose chase instead.
“It is the faerie way to toy with people,” Aki said firmly. “I’ve seen more than a few folks fall into their traps. Which is why I want to help you, little wolf.”
His expression was totally sincere.
“How can you possibly help me?”
Aki's smile returned. “I’ve done some digging. I am a collector myself, as you well know, and I’m quite adept at locating items I want.”
Hope flared in my middle. “You know where the book is.”
“No, but I have an idea of where it might be.”
I was too tired to tamp down my aggravation. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Aki turned one of his hands palm-up on the desk. “Because the person who has it has a habit of… shall we say… doing unsavory things to supernatural creatures. And I have been debating the wisdom of sending a werewolf like yourself into his clutches.”
I gulped. Like, actually gulped. “Unsavory? What does that mean?”
“This man, Peter Yates, is a collector. I am a collector myself.” He gestured to his shelf of art sculptures. “But he’s dangerous. He believes he has the right to things he does not.”
I didn’t follow.
“Still, he is only human, and unlike me or my associates, you have nothing that marks you as a wolf. He will not be able to tell what you are. So perhaps it’s not so foolish after all.”
I managed to dislodge the lump that had formed in my throat and ask, “Why does that matter?”
“Because Mr. Yates desires to possess anything he can from the world of the arcane. Approach him as a mortal girl with a shared interest in magic, and you have a greater chance of getting out safely.”
I tried to unpack that and couldn’t quite figure out what he meant. But he stood abruptly. “If you will accept my help, then my driver will take you to this man’s house immediately.”
“At one in the morn
ing?” I asked, surprised.
“He is a night owl,” Aki said.
That didn’t mean this dangerous dude would appreciate a pop-in visit from a stranger at such a late hour but given my strict time limit, I was willing to give it a try.
I let Aki lead me out to his driveway, where the driver was ready and waiting as promised. Aki opened the door for me, and I slid into the back seat.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked.
“I consider myself something of a warden of the supernatural community. Those who play tricks on others, such as this faerie of yours, should not be allowed to do whatever they wish without consequence.”
He shut the door, and the driver pulled down the driveway without a word to me. I might as well have not been there at all. Given how tired I was and how fuzzy around the edges everything felt, it felt possible this was all some fever dream.
I checked my phone. I had one text message from Raff.
It read, “Let me know if you need a ride anywhere. Can’t sleep anyhow.”
I smiled, warmth defrosting some of the ice that had settled into my veins.
Chapter 12
The car sped back up to Seattle, and I tried to remember why the name Peter sounded so familiar. But I’d come across so many names of perspective book owners in the past three days, maybe I was only imaging it.
Eventually, the driver let me out in front of a modest house on Queen Anne, not far from Yogurt Time where, if things were normal, I would be heading to work in mere hours. But things were not normal, and I was starting to accept that they never would be again.
I would always be a werewolf. I lived with another werewolf, who might soon be Alpha of a giant wolf pack, and my best friend was a vampire. Normal was dead to me.
Still, being driven around by the silent chauffeur of a dragon was definitely new territory. I’d only just scratched the surface of the supernatural world, and all I’d found was trouble. Maybe this was why werewolves tended to stick to their packs; life was a heck of a lot easier that way.
I stared at the massive Victorian house in front of me. It was the kind of house you’d see on the cover of a haunted house novel, except maybe for the garage on the right side, complete with a turret and wrap-around porch. It was so far down Queen Anne that it was practically in Interbay and looked like it had a good amount of space around it. Most of the houses in the area were crowded close together, but this one seemed to be in the middle of two lots with a high fence around the back. The house itself looked pretty old, though nothing in this area had been built more than a hundred and fifty years ago.
My skin tingled. I didn’t have a plan, and it was almost two in the morning. So, I decided to start by being super direct. When had that ever gone wrong?
I marched up the porch and rang the doorbell, which was set in an ornate lion carving. Lights were on upstairs, but the house was dark on the bottom floor. I hoped that meant someone was awake. Sure enough, the door opened a moment later.
The man who answered had brown hair with a dusting of five o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks, all speckled with gray. I recognized him from the auction, the salt-and-pepper haired dude who’d been lamenting to his friends that he wanted something more from the auctions. He hadn’t specified what that meant, but given Aki’s warning, he hadn’t meant anything good.
He was in his late forties, maybe, or early fifties, with a few laugh lines and crow’s feet around his eyes. He wore red silken pajamas, matching top and bottom, and had black robe pulled over his shoulders. His slippers were black and matched the robe. The spicy aroma of incense clung to him.
“Are you Peter Yates?” I asked.
“I am.” He regarded me curiously. If he recognized me from the auction, he gave no sign of it. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Charlie. I’m a scholar in search of a book,” I said, hoping I was coming across as curious instead of desperate. “I was told I might be able to get it from you.”
“I may have it. I do have quite a large collection of…special items.” He stuffed the word “special” with so much meaning it might have exploded. He watched me carefully to gauge my reaction.
I tried to look impressed, since that was what I thought he wanted. “So I’ve heard. I saw you at the Alki Auction House.”
“Ah, of course. I thought you looked familiar. Nice to meet you.”
He extended a hand. We shook, and he let me inside. His entry way was lined with pedestals that held ornate vases and sculptures under glass, including ones that looked ancient. There was a cat statue I recognized from Ancient Egyptian exhibits, faded and worn with time. There was a display of jade jewelry on a mannequin head. At the end of the row of pedestals sat a giant Easter Island head, or maybe it was a replica. It was sort of jarring, as it was the last thing you saw before you reached the living room, which in contrast was pretty normal looking: sofa, chairs, coffee table, television. Though, shelves that flanked the television contained tons of knickknacks and assorted objects.
He led me to the stairs, and I hesitated, already a little weirded out by being in this guy’s house and unsure if I should follow him to the second story.
Noting my hesitation, he said, “My books are in the library upstairs.”
I followed, hoping that wasn’t a major mistake.
The library was the first room on the right, with its double doors thrown wide open. The room was huge, the size of the living room below and maybe bigger. The walls were lined with shelves, as library walls tended to be, and shorter shelves also ran through the center of the room, topped with more cases of strange objects including a wand that looked as if it was out of a fantasy novel, an old straw hat that didn’t seem worth keeping under glass, and an old-fashioned lantern with frosted glass sides.
As I walked past it, the lantern lit up. I froze, then bent to examine it. Inside the lantern was what looked like the silhouette of a person with wings. For a moment, I thought it was painted on the frosted glass. But then it moved.
Peter, who must have noticed I was lagging behind, appeared beside me.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” he asked, watching the lantern in awe.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a pixie lantern.” He beamed. “And yes, there’s a real live pixie inside! Isn’t that amazing? Cost me an absurd amount, but how could I say no to a living faerie?”
I opened my mouth and closed it, stunned. A second later, the light flicked out. I strained to see the figure inside, but I only caught tiny shadows.
“If it’s alive, why is it under glass? Doesn’t it need air and water and food?”
Peter laughed, amused. “It’s a faerie. They’re immortal or something. I don’t think they can die. The man who sold it to me assured me it would work for at least a hundred years.”
“But if she or he or whatever is alive, isn’t it cruel to keep them trapped like that?”
Peter waved a hand.
“I doubt it knows the difference. It’s a tiny pixie, sort of a faerie insect. Besides, if I opened it, the pixie might escape, and then it would lose its value. Can’t have that.” He gave me a knowing smile.
I forced myself to smile back even as bile rose in my throat.
He moved on toward the shelves at the back. Until that moment, he hadn’t seemed as dangerous as Aki had said. He was just some guy with a lot of expensive crap. But if he was that callous toward a living pixie…
“Now, which book was it you were seeking? And keep in mind, I’m open to trades, but I will not lend, and I do not accept cash.”
“Curses and Cures by Leah Ladd,” I said almost automatically, having told the same title to what felt like a hundred different people.
His eyes positively glittered, and he studied me again, as if he must have missed something about me the first time. I shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.
“And what would a girl like you want with a book like that?”
I shrugged as casually as
I could. “Curiosity. I like to research the supernatural, and the book is high on my list.”
He considered and then turned, his fingers moving deftly over the shelves until finally, his fingers stopped on the spine of a medium-sized book with a leather cover. He plucked it out and spun around, holding it out for me to see.
My heart pounded so hard, I thought it was going to burst through my chest like a tiny alien baby. The cover had that same neat print I’d seen in the photograph. It was the book. It existed, and now I was in the same room! I reached out instinctively, needing to touch it, to hold it, to know it was real.
Peter yanked it out of my grasp. “Now, now, now, this is a rare item of value. If you wish to negotiate a trade, you’re going to have to offer something comparable in return.”
I let my hands fall to my sides. “Like what?”
“Something supernatural that I don’t already have. What have you got?”
I considered the things I had access to, making a quick mental list. I was used to making these kinds of trades with Ellianne, but I didn’t know what this man would find valuable. “I could get you some vampire blood,” I offered. He didn’t look impressed, clutching the book harder against his chest. “Or maybe some werewolf fur? The full moon is coming up and I know someone.”
“Fur?” He snorted and put the book back on the shelf. Panic rose in my throat. I couldn’t leave without that book. “You’ll need to do better than that. I would take a werewolf hide. But then, I’m not sure they stay wolves when they die.” He paused, considering. “I’d also taking a living specimen.”
Sickness roiled in my gut. The way he said it, meaning it fully while being totally nonchalant about asking for a person, made me feel sick.
“I don’t think I could capture a werewolf,” I said softly, trying to hide my disgust. “And anyhow, they’re just people most of the time. What’s the appeal?”
“The appeal is that I’d have something spectacular! Imagine holding full moon parties to watch a person transform into a beast. Wouldn’t that be something?”
He sounded wistful, and I imagined him hosting a gathering full of horrible people in formal wear, gathering around a cage to watch someone like me going through the painful transformation into a wolf.
Moon Bound (The Reluctant Werewolf Chronicles Book 3) Page 9