“Fresh rosemary!” Avery ran her fingers through the prickly leaves of the plant in front of the bookshop and brought them to her nose. “Mmm. I love the smell.”
Rowan opened the door to the place and waited for her to enter. “I hear there is some sort of superstition about it keeping evil out. Not that I believe in human myths.”
“Relics and Runes,” Avery read off the window. “This sounds like the place to learn about human myths.”
“It should be. Cecil Court is also called Publisher’s Row. This street and this bookstore have been here since the late seventeenth century. Everything I’ve learned from my colleagues suggests that this is the premiere source for books on all things supernatural in London.”
Avery stepped inside and gaped in wonder at the shelves of books on witchcraft and the occult. The city where she was from, New Orleans, had no shortage of references on the occult, but there was something different about this place. She walked deeper into the store and tried to put her finger on exactly what it was. And then it hit her. In New Orleans, most of the shops seemed to cater to tourists with kitschy gris-gris bags prominently displayed to bring people riches or luck in love. This place was designed for practitioners, filled with thick textbooks and magazines, crystals, cards, and herbs clearly labeled but offered without explanation. This store wasn’t about novelty but ritual.
“Welcome to Relics and Runes,” a voice said from the direction of the register.
Avery turned to face a young man who was dusting something in the front window. “Hello.” She narrowed her gaze on his nametag. “Albert.”
He smiled at her and the faintest blush stained his cheeks. “Can I help you find something?” His voice cracked at the end of the sentence and ended in a bit of squeak.
“Actually, I was wondering if you had any resources on dragon myths and legends in the area.”
“Oh, sure we do. Come, follow me.” Albert led her around the counter and down a flight of stairs. “Actually, I wish the owner was here. He’s sort of an expert in tales about supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, he’s out indefinitely on personal emergency.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.”
“Between you, me, and the lamppost, I think he might’ve needed a holiday to calm the nerves. Guy’s a bit high-strung if you catch my drift.”
She nodded.
“Here you are, right between the books on lycanthropy and spirit animals.”
“Thank you. I can take it from here.” She began perusing the books but felt him staring at the side of her face. She paused and turned her head slowly to look at him again. “Is there something wrong? Do I need to be supervised in this section or something?”
He laughed through his nose and ended in a snort. “Actually… uh… would you care to have tea? I mean, sometime, when you are available?”
Avery did a double take and noticed the interested look in the boy’s eyes. He wasn’t her type and seemed quite a bit younger than her, but she’d worked in the service industry long enough to have plenty of experience with unwanted advances. As they went, this one was harmless.
“You seem like a nice person, but the truth is, I’m just visiting from America and my schedule is booked. I’m sorry.”
He nodded quickly behind a toothy grin. “Well, all right then. Can’t blame a chap for tryin’.” He turned to go but paused to snap a selfie with her in the background. She caught a frame of herself staring stupidly in his direction on his screen before he jogged up the stairs.
She shook her head. Men. Turning back to the shelf, she ran her finger along the spines of the books in front of her. Dragon Tarot, Dragon Meditations, Dragon Magic, Dragon Folklore. That’s it. She slid the hefty book on myths and legends of dragons in the United Kingdom from the shelf just as Rowan jogged down the stairs.
“Found it!” Avery said, holding up the book.
Rowan’s eyes widened and roved around the basement room. There were as many shelves down here as upstairs, but the air was a bit stale, as if the room saw less use.
Avery reached out and rubbed Rowan’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay? You look sort of… distressed.”
Rowan came fully into the basement and searched the rows of shelves. They were the only two customers down here, which was good because the level of agitation Rowan was putting off would make anyone nervous.
“Rowan? Rowan?” Avery’s stomach dropped. Something had definitely rattled the dragon.
“Do you smell that?” Rowan wrinkled her nose.
“Smell what?” Avery balked at the intensity in Rowan’s eyes. Their amber color seemed to darken with her mood.
“Smoky male. I think another dragon has been here recently.”
Avery frowned. “Seriously?” She looked over both shoulders.
“Not that recently.” Rowan rolled her eyes. “The scent is muddled by the herbs and tobacco residue. I could barely smell it upstairs. It’s almost like he might have tried to cover it up.”
“Do you think one of your siblings might have been here?”
Rowan planted her hands on her hips and shrugged. “Anything’s possible.” Her gaze flicked to the book in her hand. “Let’s go pay for that. I need to talk to Alexander.”
They climbed the stairs and Avery handed the book to the boy, whose cheeks reddened the moment he saw her.
“Good choice,” he said, scanning the back. “That’ll be nineteen quid.”
Rowan handed him her credit card.
While he was ringing her up, Avery noticed a box of stones on the counter and ran her fingers over each of the different sections. Some felt hot, some cold, and some tingled where her skin brushed a smooth edge. She frowned, thinking of the orb Aborella had tricked her into wearing. Stones could hold curses and charms. She moved her hand away nervously.
“Who owns this store, Albert?” Rowan asked.
“Man’s name is Clarke. He’s off for a few days. As I mentioned to your friend here, he’s takin’ care of some personal items.” He bagged the book and handed it to her.
“Right. Thank you.” Rowan sniffed as if trying to clear her nose to get a better whiff. She led the way toward the door.
“Call or stop by if there’s anything else I can do for you,” Albert called. “I’m at your service.”