SIX

The morning swam by in a blur. Thomas tried to focus on his classes, but his thoughts bounced back and forth from Peggy to Parker to the bookshop, inevitably circling back to the wooden box under his bed. He was so distracted that it took all of his lunch break to finish the homework he hadn’t gotten to last night.

Mr. Dilstrom assigned so much busy work in history class that he and Enrique hardly had a chance to say two words to each other, much less rematch their doodle war. The inability to avenge his loss prickled at Thomas, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He wanted the day to end so he could get to the bookshop.

When the last bell finally rang, Thomas grabbed his backpack and sprinted out the front door. He caught the 3:15 city bus headed downtown and managed to finish his English homework before reaching his stop. He stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk.

A sudden prickling sensation tickled at the back of his neck. The hairs on his arms stood on end. Someone was watching him.

Thomas looked around, scanning the nearby shops, but didn’t see anybody looking at him. He turned toward the bookshop and ran straight into a woman whose head barely reached the top of his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” said Thomas, as the woman grabbed his arm to steady herself. “Are you okay?”

The woman gently squeezed Thomas’s arm. There was no effort in the gesture, but he found himself suddenly rooted in place, completely unable to move. He stared at the woman. Wisps of obsidian hair with silver-white streaks fell onto thin shoulders draped in a dark cheongsam. Although a visor hid her features, Thomas had a sense that the woman was old, maybe even ancient. He tried to take a step back. His body refused to respond.

A glimmer of light drew Thomas’s eyes to the dragon pendant resting against the top of the woman’s black silk dress. The dragon was carved from a rich green stone, jade perhaps, with a gold fixture connecting it to the chain. He stared, hypnotized by a sudden feeling of déjà vu. The pendant was eerily familiar, as was the woman herself.

Thomas tried to place them, reaching for a memory that shifted just beyond the edge of his awareness, like the last fragment of a dream that doesn’t want to be caught. With a start, he realized that the woman was speaking, her voice so soft it blended with the rush of cars and wind. He looked up, trying to make out the movement of lips behind the visor.

“. . . a great treasure,” she said, her voice suddenly clear. She squeezed Thomas’s arm again, a deep grip that defied the appearance of age and fragility, then let go and stepped past his still-frozen form. She glanced back, her face hidden behind the visor. “We are watching you.”

A great treasure? We are watching you? Thomas’s reality shifted subtly on its axis. He watched the woman disappear around the corner, his heart pounding in his chest. With an effort, he forced himself to turn around, lifting first one foot and then the other. The bookstore was waiting. Perhaps he would find answers there, with the strange man and his gold-flecked eyes.

The shop came into sight as soon as he turned on 16th. The faded red door was propped open, a broom and dustpan leaning against the outside wall. Thomas stepped inside, hoping to be greeted by the shopkeeper. Instead, he was met by a woman with deep brown skin and a beautiful, ageless face.

“Hello,” she said, looking at him with eyes that sparkled even in the dim light. “You must be Thomas. I’m Adelia.”

Thomas shook her hand. It was as warm as her smile, and he found himself smiling back, in spite of his still-spinning head. “It’s nice to meet you, Adelia.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, too. I’ve been expecting you.”

Thomas nodded and looked around. Like yesterday, the shop was completely devoid of customers. “Is he here? The man I met yesterday?”

“Huxley? Do you mean to tell me that my husband gave you one of our most prized possessions without bothering to introduce himself properly?”

“I, I guess so?” stammered Thomas. He hadn’t really thought of it like that, but when she said it out loud, it did sound a bit odd. Odd name, too. Huxley.

“How very like him.” Adelia laughed, gently, and put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but he’s out on urgent business this afternoon. You’re stuck with me.”

Thomas’s face fell. “He’s not here?”

Adelia shook her head. “I’m afraid not, but he did give me an assignment for you. He said that you’re to dust the back wing of the shop, where we keep some of our oldest and most interesting books. Most of the material is mundane, but there are a few unique volumes hidden amongst the others. Huxley thought that section would hold a particular interest for you. Was he right?”

Thomas nodded. It did sound like a good first assignment, but he couldn’t fully shake the feeling of disappointment. Adelia looked at him, as if searching through the silence for his thoughts. He had the disconcerting feeling she might actually be able to find them. Her dark eyes caught the overhead lights, revealing flecks of gold reminiscent of those in Huxley’s eyes.

“You have questions,” said Adelia. “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

Is this some kind of test? A challenge to see if I’m keeping my side of the bargain? He had lots of questions, but he’d promised Huxley he wouldn’t talk about the book with anyone else. No exceptions.

Thomas decided to play it safe. “No, I’m fine. Just a long day at school is all. Is there a special cloth or duster or something like that?”

“Right behind you, on the counter next to the cash register.”

There was a microfiber duster exactly where she described, though Thomas could have sworn he hadn’t seen it when he walked in. He grabbed the plastic handle, wondering if he was losing his mind or just his attention to detail. “Got it. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” said Adelia. “I’ll come get you in a couple of hours. Have fun.”

“I will.” Thomas meant it. After years of searching for anything resembling a real magic book, the thought that there might be more material as interesting as the book under his bed was exhilarating.

The aisle Adelia had indicated was enormous, filled with thousands of books wrapped in various shades of faded leather. There’d be no time to look at any of them in detail—not if he wanted to get home before his mom—but the section would definitely get future attention. He climbed the sliding ladder and ran the duster over the first few books on the top shelf.

“Perfect. Just like that.” Adelia flashed a thumbs up from the other end of the aisle. “Nice and light, just enough to get the dust off without putting pressure on the paper.”

“Got it.” Thomas gently feathered the tops and spines of the books as he worked his way from one end of the aisle to the other. Titles caught his eye as he went. Fables of Avalore. Fairies of Western Europe. Ghost Magic of the Bimini Tradition.

Mixed in with the titles he could read were others written in unfamiliar languages. Some were marked with curious shapes and symbols, and a few didn’t have titles or markings at all. Thomas imagined reading them all. It would take years, maybe decades, and that wasn’t counting the time it would take to learn all the languages.

The ladder reached the end of the track. Thomas stepped down to the lower rung and started on the books on the second shelf. A small sound rang out from the set of books where he had just dusted, almost too soft to hear. Cha-che-choo.

Was that a sneeze? He listened, duster poised above the next book. Thousands of tiny particles floated in the air, catching the light like so many specks of fairy dust. He waited, head tilted, ear angled toward the top row. The silence of old leather and crisp parchment was broken only by the distant sound of Adelia shuffling through papers.

Thomas went back to work. A soft scuffling sound filtered down, pulling his attention back to the same spot. His eyes flitted up, catching a hint of movement between the heavy books at the end of the row. He stepped up the ladder for a better look, focusing on the shadow in the space between thick volumes. There was nothing but a thin triangle of open shelf between a pair of freshly dusted books.

A subtle illustration on the taller of the books caught his attention. Pixie-like creatures danced across the red border, their forms only slightly more detailed than stick figures. A thick metal clasp wrapped around the binding, holding the book closed at the middle. Thomas reached for the latch at the edge of the clasp, hoping it didn’t require a key.

Purple-blue electricity arced out, zapping his fingertip. The shock was no bigger than a jolt of static after walking on carpet, but it surprised Thomas so much he practically fell backward off the ladder. He barely managed to catch himself on the wooden rail. The bookshelves rattled but held strong.

“Is everything okay back there?” Adelia’s voice drifted from the other side of the shop.

“Fine,” called Thomas, though he clung to the ladder so tightly his knuckles had turned white. “I just slipped a little. No problem.”

“Okay, be careful, and let me know if you need help.”

“I will,” called Thomas. Heart racing, he reached for the top edge of the book and tilted it forward. Why is it that the interesting things in this place want to shock me? The metal clasp had a keyhole hidden around the front. He sighed and let the red book tilt back onto the shelf. Maybe another time. For now, there was work to do and an even more intriguing book waiting at home. He rolled sideways.

The ladder slid smoothly along the grooved tracks as his duster swished back and forth. He slid into a rhythm, his worries fading like so many particles of settling dust. Before he knew it, Adelia was tapping on his shoulder.

“It’s six o’clock. Time to close up shop.” Adelia ran a finger over one of the books and held it up, dust free. “Nice work. If you keep this up, one day people might believe we run an actual bookstore.”