As reluctant as I was to follow Kaden into another strange dark building, my curiosity got the better of me, and I pushed my way inside. The scent of old books wafted toward me, and I inhaled deeply.
There was nothing quite like the smell of a used bookshop, and none was quite like another. Scents clung to old books like a collection of memories, and my hunter nose could parse them all. Cinnamon and cigar smoke. Rose water and lipstick. Motor oil and pine sap. Sometimes I’d smell a book and try to imagine whose hands it had passed through — what sort of things it had seen.
Salandar’s bookshop resembled a store less than it did an overstuffed storage room. Sagging bookshelves and smudged glass cases covered every inch of available wall space, with more books tumbling over one another in the gap between the shelves and the ceiling. Heavier tomes were piled pell-mell on the floor, some stacks overflowing.
A high-pitched squawk made my muscles tense, and I whipped around to see a bird with bright red plumagestaring at me from a giant cage positioned between two shelves.
When I met its beady eyes, the bird gave a restless flap of its wings, and I heard the chiding click of a tongue.
A stooped old man shuffled into view, his back so badly hunched that I might have guessed it was a condition he’d been born with, were it not for the man’s occupation. More than likely, the hump had developed the same way his need for those thick round spectacles had — from countless hours spent poring over books.
Tousled wisps of white hair only pretended to cover his overlarge, speckled head, which matched the long, wiry eyebrows that looked in danger of growing together over his forehead.
The man seemed completely unaware of our presence as he clicked his tongue and fed a small biscuit through the bars of the cage. The bird took the biscuit, tilting its head toward the ceiling in a very undignified manner as crumbs scattered all over the floor.
“Good evening, Salandar,” said Kaden by way of greeting.
The old man hummed in reply, still not looking at us as he fed the bird another biscuit. “The stars seem a bit melancholy tonight, but who am I to complain?”
I turned toward Kaden with raised eyebrows. He didn’t look at me, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth told me that sort of comment wasn’t unusual for the shopkeeper.
“I received your missive,” the old man continued. “But I’m afraid the volumes I’ve managed to compile over the years are few.”
“We’ll take anything you’ve got.”
My gaze slid from Kaden to Salandar as the old man turned, his wild eyebrows scrunching together. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t bear to part with them.”
“Are you not in the book business, Salandar?” Kaden asked, a slight lilt of amusement softening his irritated tone.
“Some things are worth more to me than money. The texts areveryold andveryrare.”
“I’m prepared to pay handsomely for them.”
But the old man just shook his head and went back to feeding his bird. “I’m sorry. They’re not for sale.”
Kaden let out an impatient huff, and my heart sank at the realization that this all might have been a waste of time. “Can we at leastseethem?”
“Of course, of course. I’ve already pulled them out for you.” Salandar looked rather excited as he turned and ambled toward the back of the shop. He didn’t motion for Kaden to follow him, but it was clear that Kaden had been here before. He trailed after Salandar through a narrow gap between two shelves.
I cast one more uneasy glance at the bird, who was watching me with a predatory stillness, before following them into the shadows.
But just as I turned down the aisle, Kaden and the old man disappeared. Their muffled footsteps sounded to my right, and I turned to find a narrow doorway leading to a steep wooden staircase.
My mind flashed to Silas’s basement, and my shoulders tightened. It seemed unwise to follow a faerie and a complete stranger into a dark basement. My senses told me the old man was mortal, but Kaden . . .
I shook off the sudden surge of paranoia. I might only be a means to an end for him, but he’d had every chance tokill me. Why go to all the trouble of luring mehereif that was his intention?
The stairwell was lit by a single flickering bulb, but in the dimness I could see Salandar jangling a thick silver keyring, which looked to hold every size and shape of key imaginable: house keys, skeleton keys, tiny keys that might have gone to a lockbox at a bank, and a few strange scraps of metal that looked as though they’d been pried off an aluminum can with a dull knife.
After several long moments, the old man seemed to find the key he was looking for and fit it into the lock. The door opened with a loud creak, and I padded down the stairs after them, keeping one hand curled around the dagger at my thigh.
Kaden marked the gesture as I followed him through the doorway into the room beyond, and though he flashed a knowing smirk, something dark flickered in his eyes.
Compared to the disorder of the shop above, the basement was relatively empty and sterile. We were standing in a small windowless room with smooth concrete walls. A heavy table stood in the center of the room, lit by an overhead work lamp. A handful of books lay on the table, and my heart leapt at the sight of them.
“These are all the books I have that pertain to the Coranthe witches,” said Salandar. “Take all the time you need.”
I nodded once in thanks, and the old man turned to leave. I could feel Kaden’s eyes on me, but I didn’t meet his gaze.
