Page 49
“This slop isn’t free, is it? What’s the price?”
Iris cast an anxious look at Blair, whose wary gaze had settled onto the stranger. She glanced back at the man. There was an unnerving gleam in his blue eyes that made them look almost like glass. “The food is free, sir.” She tilted her hand to pour the soup, when the man suddenly lashed out, his hand closing around Iris’ wrist and knocking the ladle from her grasp.
“Clumsy bitch!” He swore as hot soup spilled in a stream down the front of his pants. Instead of letting go, he clenched his teeth, his hand tightening on Iris’ arm. His words grew fast and unintelligible.
Before Iris could react, Blair had ripped the stranger’s hand off of her and launched himself across the table, his hands outstretched as if desperate to rip the skin off the man’s bones. Adrenaline coursed through Iris’ veins as she took in Blair’s wild, bloodshot eyes, the pupils reddening and swallowing up the irises. She placed a hand on his chest, trying to hold him back, but the stranger was already stumbling away, his glassy eyes terrified as he beheld the equally frightening man before him.
The altercation had caught the attention of not only the other volunteers, but also the group of people waiting for their dinners. Some of them left the line, casting Blair apprehensive looks.
Before things could get any more out of hand, Iris grasped Blair’s arm and led him into the dark trees that separated the churchyard from the fire station next door. He shuddered violently under her touch, and upon reaching the safety of the trees, he slumped against one of them. His face was hidden in the shadows, but Iris could hear his breaths, ragged and uneven. Fear rippled through her as she imagined what might happen to Blair if he didn’t calm down.
“Shh. It’s okay. He didn’t hurt me.” She took a hesitant step closer, placing her hands on his shoulders.
Blair’s chin was lowered against his chest. His voice tumbled out in a panicked whisper. “It’s so loud.”
Iris had no idea what he was talking about. Enfolded by the trees, the sounds from the celebration had been reduced to a distant hum.
“Can we please go home?”
Her heart ached at the despondent tone of his voice. Iris slid herself into his arms the way she had wanted to so many times, his body trembling as she pressed her hands against his back. He hesitated for a moment before returning her embrace, expelling a shaky breath against her hair.
When at last Blair’s shaking began to subside, Iris stepped back. A cloud drifted away to allow a sliver of moonlight through the trees, and she noticed with relief that Blair’s eyes had returned to their normal gray. Still, there was something haunted in them as they met hers. Her gaze shifted to the snow that glistened in his hair like a crown of fallen stars.
Iris sighed. “Let’s go home.”
Bookish Emporium may have been filled to bursting like egg-bearing chickens in a cage with barely any room to turn, but nothing could have prevented Gabriel from sensing the shift in the air that meant a Similar had just stepped into the store.
He had a shrewd suspicion who it might be.
Sure enough, he had barely reached the counter when Clement sidled up to him, already clutching a book in his hands. He placed it by the register and fixed his friend with his signature crooked smile.
“Gabriel. How are things?”
A mix of emotions fought for dominance inside Gabriel’s chest. He hadn’t forgotten Blair’s words the morning after the incident with the poison tears, when he’d said that Clement knew things about him, things Blair hadn’t told anyone. And Gabriel, who was supposed to be Clement’s closest—certainly his oldest—friend and confidant had been kept in the dark. Why?
His eyes narrowed as he took in Clement’s lassi faire demeanor, his head held high and confident as usual, a brown scarf tossed carelessly over the shoulder of his unseasonable leather jacket.
“Do I sense some tension in the air?” Clement asked, leaning against the counter.
Gabriel flexed his jaw. “Unless I’m much mistaken, the last time we met you threw a knife at me.”
Clement grinned, flicking his hand as though to ward off a fly. “Why focus on the particulars? I trust I got my point across.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Don’t tell me you aren’t pleased to see me, Gabriel. I’m wounded.” He placed a hand over his chest, his eyes flashing with mock amusement.
“We have customers.”
Clement moved off to the side as a middle-aged woman stepped up to the counter with a stack of books. Gabriel made light conversation as he checked out her purchases, handed her a brown paper bag with the store name stamped on it, and wished a happy new year to her retreating back.
“How’s the Similar?”
“His name is Blair.”
“Ah, so you’re on first name terms now, eh? Iris must be pleased.” Clement peered over the heads of the milling customers, inspecting the holiday wreaths donated by a local garden center and the towering gold Christmas tree pressed against a locked display case featuring antique books. He flicked one of the taper candles dangling from an invisible wire above their heads, causing it to swing like a pendulum. “I must say, you have outdone yourself here.”
“What do you want?”
