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Cassie observed all of this as if it were happening very far away from her, happening to someone else. The world felt distant, and her mind seemed paralyzed. It played images for her: the bald man kicking the server’s head, throwing furniture by magic, and her stomach flinched with each memory.

Izzy reached out for Cassie and gripped her arm, perhaps sensing what Cassie was feeling. They looked at each other, both of them seeking comfort after the terrifying experience they had just endured.

“Who was that man?” Cassie asked Drummond. Her voice sounded normal, betraying none of the shock that was vibrating through her limbs.

“Hugo Barbary,” Drummond said. “He’s an awful man. I’m sorry you had to experience that.” He sighed, breathing regret into the air. “I really wish he hadn’t been there.”

Cassie nodded, accepting the apology, and found her gaze settling on Drummond’s dark eyes. Their stillness calmed her.

“But who is he?” Izzy asked. “How can he get away with doing stuff like that?”

Drummond turned his eyes across the river, to the distance. “He’s a book hunter.”

“A book hunter?” Cassie asked. “What’s that?”

Drummond squinted at her. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it? He hunts books.”

“He kicked that boy in the head,” Izzy said. “It was so horrible. He didn’t have to do that!”

The image flashed in Cassie’s mind again as Izzy spoke, and she flinched and closed her eyes, trying to push it away. Had the boy died because of her? Would he still have been alive now if Cassie had taken Izzy somewhere else to eat? Guilt was a bitterness rising at the back of her throat. She tried to swallow it down.

“No,” Drummond agreed. “But that’s the sort of man he is.” He shook his head. “That poor boy is just another victim of Hugo Barbary.”

They sat in silence, each of them remembering what had just happened.

Then Drummond looked at Cassie and asked, “How long haveyou had the book? Because you opened the door to here quickly. Easily.”

Cassie shook her head slowly. She didn’t want to answer questions. She didn’t want to talk like ordinary people, like horrible things hadn’t just happened.

The café owner reappeared with a tray of drinks supported by one hand. “Bon, three coffees,” she said, setting the drinks down. “And three croissants.”

“I understand,” Drummond said to Cassie, as the woman disappeared back into the shop. Cassie met his eyes, full of skepticism, but her doubts melted away as he looked at her. He nodded once. “It’s horrible, I know. I don’t mean to appear callous about it.” He pushed one of the croissants toward her, and then another toward Izzy. “You both need to eat,” he said.

Cassie looked down at the croissant dubiously. Her mouth was full of the taste of guilt and fear. She didn’t think she could eat.

“It helps,” Drummond insisted, his voice quiet. “Trust me, I know. Right now you are in shock. Your body is pumping adrenaline. You need to eat, you need the energy. It will help you to recover.”

Izzy was already eating—she was a woman who never needed encouragement to eat. Drummond did likewise, watching Cassie as he chewed, crumbs on his lips. Finally Cassie relented, lifting the croissant to take a bite. It was good: hot and buttery and flaky.

“Good,” Izzy murmured.

“Isn’t it?” Drummond agreed, obviously taking delight in Izzy’s enjoyment. “I love croissants in France.”

The three of them ate in companionable silence for a few moments, sitting in the apron of warming light on the sidewalk in front of the café. Drummond sipped some of his coffee and then relaxed back into his chair and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry I met you both under these circumstances,” he said. “It’s not what I would have wanted. But maybe it’s good.”

“Good?” Cassie asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think there’s anything good about what just happened.”

“No, I don’t mean that,” Drummond said, opening his eyes. Heshook his head at himself, as if he was annoyed that he was not communicating well. “I mean it’s good you have seen how dangerous it is. You know you have to take the threat seriously.”

“I never got my grilled cheese sandwich,” Izzy murmured, as if she hadn’t been listening. “Before that man came.”

Cassie picked at croissant crumbs, realizing she did feel a little better. Her heart felt as if it had stopped racing, and her mouth was no longer filled with the bitterness of guilt.

“It was so violent,” she said. “Why does he have to be like that?”

“Why does anyone have to be like that?” Izzy asked, her eyes drifting off to the view.