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Hali’s mind raced with the implications of Osric’s plan as she let him into the shop. It was a risky gambit, to be sure, but the potential rewards were almost too tantalizing to contemplate. If they could draw out the mysterious figures who had been lurking in the shadows, then perhaps they could finally get the answers they sought. The identity of the Obsidian Circle, the significance of the coded message, the truth behind the grimoire’s enigmatic markings—it was all within their grasp.
But it was a dangerous game they were playing, with high stakes and no guarantee of success. The grimoire was far too precious to risk, and Hali couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something more at play, some deeper secret that she had yet to uncover. Osric’s expression echoed her same fierce determination, that same stubborn refusal to give up. And it filled her with a sense of courage, a belief that together, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The tension between them was palpable as they stood in the darkened shop, the air thick with the hint of danger. Hali’s heart was pounding in her chest, and she was all too aware of the warmth of Osric’s hands still lingering in her own. She felt a jolt of awareness every time their eyes met, a crackle of electricity that made her breath catch and her pulse quicken.
But then Osric smiled, a slow, smoldering curve of his lips, and any doubts she might have had were swept away. She trusted him, with a fierceness that surprised her, and she was willing to follow him into the heart of the fire if that was what it took. She had spent her whole life lost in her books, yearning for a grand, romantic adventure of her own. And now, with Osric at her side, she had a feeling that adventure was about to begin.
“Under one condition,” Hali said. “I must be fully involved in every step of the process.”
She crossed her arms, daring him to argue. He didn’t, to her relief.
“Of course. This is your shop, your grimoire. You are the one they seek. It has to be you.”
Hali relaxed, satisfied. “Then I suppose we’d better start planning.”
And just like that, it felt as though she was stepping into the pages of one of her beloved adventure novels, with the dashing, brooding hero at her side, ready to face whatever dangers lay in store.
Chapter
Eight
The advertisement was a clever trap, and Osric admired the craftiness of it even as his stomach twisted with worry. There was no mention of the grimoire, of course—just a notice that the Folio & Fancy had recently come into possession of a small handful of rare and valuable tomes that would be available for purchase to discerning collectors. A siren’s song to draw in any members of the Obsidian Circle who might be seeking the book.
It was a dangerous game that Hali was playing, but Osric had known from the start that she was not one to back down from a challenge. For all her whimsy and romanticism, there was a core of steel in her, a stubbornness and determination that he couldn’t help but admire.
A determination that, in this case, might very well get her killed.
Osric clenched his jaw, the muscles standing out in sharp relief. He had promised to keep her safe, and he intended to honor that promise. But to do so, he needed to know what she was up to, and where the danger lay.
He just prayed he wasn’t already too late.
Osric arrived at the Folio & Fancy as the last of the daylight was fading, the shop’s windows glowing with lamplight and warmth. He let himself in with the key Hali had pressed into his palm, and was immediately assailed by the scent of old books and fresh scones, and the sight of Hali darting towards him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Osric, you made it!” She said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve gathered all the supplies we’ll need for our stakeout, and I’ve put up the wards like Illyria showed me, and I think it’s going to work, I really do, but either way, we’ll at least have a nice starlit picnic, won’t we?”
Osric’s heart ached at the sight of her, all soft and rosy in her lavender cardigan, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked so small, and yet there was a steely determination in her eyes that made her seem impossibly brave.
“You’ve done a wonderful job, Hali,” he said, and he meant it. The shop was transformed, with stacks of supplies and provisions piled up in the corner. “Now, show me how these wards of yours work.”
Hali led him to the front of the shop, where a small wooden box had been placed on the counter. “All right, so these are the warning wards. If someone crosses the threshold of the shop after hours, the bell in this little box will ring, but we’ll be far enough away with it that it won’t alert the intruders that it’s been tripped. It’s not too loud, but hopefully it’ll be enough to alert us.”
She pointed to a few sigils that had been affixed to the inside of the door frame. “And these are the marking wards. Whoever touches the door will be magically ‘marked’ with a spell that is easily tracked by this.” She held up a device that resembled a compass, though it had a few too many needles and directions to function purely as such.
Osric was impressed by the wards’ design, and by Hali’s quick grasp of the theory behind them. She was a quick study, his clever little dwarf. He only hoped that they wouldn’t need to use them.
As night fell, they climbed up to the rooftop of the bookshop, hauling a basket of supplies up the narrow ladder. The city stretched out around them, a sea of twinkling lights and shadows. Osric’s pulse was heavy in his ears, his senses hyper-focused on the sounds of the city, the cool night air, and the warm, spicy scent of Hali’s hair as she settled in beside him.
They spread out a thick blanket, and then a stack of cushions, and then an array of snacks and drinks and other provisions. “I hope you like spiced apple cider,” Hali said, pouring them each a mug. “And I may have also brought a few of those scones you liked from the bakery around the corner.”
“I’m sure they’re delicious,” Osric said, though he was too distracted by the way the lamplight was dancing in Hali’s eyes to really taste them. He was acutely aware of how close she was, the heat of her body, and he had to force himself to focus on the task at hand.
They settled in, the night stretching out before them, and for a while, they sat in companionable silence, sipping their cider and watching the stars. But then Hali let out a little sigh, and scooted closer to him, and before he knew it, she had tucked her feet up onto the blanket and her shoulder was dangerously close to his own.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice soft in the darkness. “I just . . . it’s a little chilly up here, is all.”
Osric’s skin felt like it was on fire, but he managed to wrap an arm around her, tugging her close. “No need to apologize.”
She smelled like old parchment and lavender, and it was all he could do to keep from burying his face in her hair and breathing her in. He had never felt so keenly aware of another person’s presence, of the way she fit so perfectly against him, as if she had been made to be there.
