Page 73
Belatedly Fia noticed a few customers had trickled into the shop, already browsing the shelves.
He’d opened Sable Spells for her.
Despite everything, a small smile curled the corner of her mouth at his care for this place she loved best in all the world. Then her eyes narrowed. Completely unaware she was watching him, the drowsy magician ran one finger down a page of the ledger. Based on where the book was parted, he seemed to have flipped back to years-old records. She couldn’t think why he’d care to look at them.
“Good morning,” she said, padding over to him in long stockings striped silver and gray. And cursing the tiniest waver in her voice, as if she didn’t know how to talk to him any longer—not after he’d carried her so gently to bed.
Penbrook straightened, then casually closed the book, returning her greeting with a grin that didn’t quite meet his dark, sleepy eyes. “Ah, you decided to join the day, as gloomy as it might be.”
“I didn’t mean to oversleep. I should have woken you.”
“Not to worry. I can always count on Finnick.”
Hearing his name, the cat slinked out from wherever he’d been hiding and jumped onto the high counter only to immediately flop over on his side. Penbrook scratched the cat behind his ear, making no effort to scold him down, and then Fia didn’t have the heart to do it. Finnick let out a gravelly purr, reveling in his disobedience.
Fia tugged the sleeves of her sweater over her hands. Even with the fire toasting in the hearth, it seemed particularly cold as wind buffeted the windows. As if The Book of Ribs cast a shadow over the shop. They needed to inspect it quickly—once Andromeda returned from whatever curse worker she’d gone to see and after they closed the shop tonight—and just as quickly be rid of the book.
“Is it… behaving?” Fia whispered so the spattering of customers wouldn’t overhear.
Penbrook patted his coat pocket. “It’s quiet for now.”
Her fingers curled even more tightly around the edges of her overlong sleeves. The grimoire might still be bound up in that warded pouch, but her skin crawled at the thought of Penbrook holding it so closely against his body. Something altogether rotten might seep through the protected fabric.
“Are you sure you should keep it on you?”
He arched a brow. “Would you rather hold it?”
Fia bounced back a step, ruffling the hem of her deep-red skirts. “No. But couldn’t you hide it in the wardrobe or something?”
“I did.” Penbrook looked at Fia and reluctantly said, “The problem is, it moved.”
“What—”
“I found it outside your bedroom, poking out of the warded bag.”
Fia’s skin itched like something awful was tickling, thinking of the book scuttling its way toward her, and she unwittingly recalled what she’d read that day at Never-Ending Story. That The Book of Ribs pushed itself up from the depths of the earth where it had been buried.
If it could creep its way from a grave six feet under, it would have no trouble capering around the spellshop—or out of it. And they couldn’t risk the book getting away from them.
“Thank goodness you caught it.”
“Thank Finnick,” Penbrook said admiringly. “He trapped it like a mouse.”
But there was little time for thanks, as the front door swept open just then. The bell rang and rang, caught in an especially strong wind as Norie and Annalise stumbled into the shop.
“You’re open again!” Annalise said, swiping hair from her eyes.
It was more important than ever that they go about their normal routines, but Fia couldn’t help smiling, heartened that Annalise cared about the shop. That it was somewhere she wanted to come.
Bundled in long coats and knitted scarves, the friends made their way over to the fireplace, warming their hands as they lamented the unusually cold autumn day.
“My toes are completely numb,” Annalise said. “I swear this weather is cursed.”
“It must be. We’ll be lucky if we don’t all freeze in our beds tonight.” Norie shivered. “I can’t feel my nose.”
“I’m sure it’s just a turn in the weather,” Penbrook chimed in.
Norie rubbed her pink-tipped nose. “I hope so.” But she still sounded nervous.
