Page 6 of Grimoires & Glamoury

CHAPTER TWO

Charles Montgomery didn’t react to my rudeness. “How lovely to see you too,” he drawled.

I blew my bangs out of eyes. “What brings you to Five Point South, Mr. Montgomery?”

“I’m here to speak to you of course,” he said, his expression remaining composed.

He was immaculately dressed, sporting navy slacks and a white dress shirt open at the collar with a long dark trench coat over it all. Topping off the look, his hair was brushed back from his face and cut short on the sides, highlighting an intriguing mixture of silver and brown.

The man was elegant, handsome, and more importantly he carried an energy with him. A mundane wouldn’t know what that energy was—but a magickal practitioner would recognize it as power.

Raw power.

Charles Montgomery was a ceremonial magician and one of the more potent I’d ever known. I’d never liked him. He was arrogant, snobbish, and consistently looked down his nose at the Witches of the Southside. But I wasn’t just any Witch—I was the Magistra, and I could more than hold my own against him, or any other practitioner.

To prove it, I sent lightning flashing across the sky and the following thunder cracked loud enough to have the building shake. Outside, the rain began to pour, suddenly heavy once again.

He acknowledged the display of my power—the lightning and thunder—with the slightest nod of his head. Silently he continued to stand in my bookstore, studying me with his electric blue eyes, as if he found me amusing. Which was seriously starting to piss me off.

“Did you not receive the text messages I sent you this morning?” he finally asked.

His voice was a weapon in and of itself. It was low, cultured, and had the slightest of southern drawls. It damn near made me shiver.

I shrugged off my visceral reaction. “It’s been a busy day.”

He glanced around the sales floor. There were two women browsing the stacks and a college student leisurely flipping through the pages of a book in a chair by the window. “Clearly,” he said, with one side of his mouth kicking up in an almost smile. “Well, perhaps you could find it in your heart to spare me a moment of your valuable time.”

He was baiting me. I recognized it even as I struggled not to react. “Mr. Montgomery,” I began, keeping my voice down, “I make it a rule to never conduct community business during bookstore hours.”

“Then let me take you to lunch, where we would be free to discuss it.”

“I’m afraid I’m too busy today to—”

“Lorna Southern, afraid?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

I was saved from answering—or more likely saying something extremely rude—by the arrival of Dex. He’d carried a milk crate full of new books up front to be shelved, but when he saw Charles Montgomery at the counter, he paused.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Dex asked.

“Hello, Poindexter,” Charles said in a completely different tone.

His greeting to Dex had been delivered in a way that I could only describe as hostile, which surprised me. Charles Montgomery never raised his voice. I’d once heard him reprimand one of the members of his lodge and knew he could indeed be harsh. Yet right then, his inflection and intonation had subtly shifted. He sounded almost angry.

Dex stayed at my side, his shoulder brushing mine, and I suddenly realized he was doing so on purpose. Charles Montgomery shifted his gaze from Dex and back to me, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

The man was wondering if Dex and I were lovers.

I almost smiled.

From the right, Kate popped her head in from The Apothecary Shoppe. “Hey Lorna, did that new book I’ve been waiting for on herbs come in with...” She trailed off when she noticed my visitor. She frowned and then walked right over to stop beside Montgomery.

“Hello,” she said. “Have we met?”

He acknowledged Kate with an inclination of his head, but he did not offer his hand. “Charles Montgomery, Miss Weaver,” he said. “I am acquainted with your mother’s family.”

“How nice,” Kate said. And despite him knowing her last name, she did not extend a hand either—it wasn’t uncommon for magickal users to avoid touching each other. Especially when they were unsure of one another.

Montgomery stepped back from the counter. “Meet me at one o’clock for lunch,” he said to me. “This isn’t a trivial social matter. And we do need to talk.”