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Jade

“Here it is. Book Nookery!” I pulled my hand free from the deep pockets of my wind breaker—it wasn’t chilly enough to bust out a winter coat, but the wind would rip through the black and red flannel shirt I was wearing without the jacket.

Connor—unaffected by the wind—wore only a black long-sleeved shirt as he stared up at the brick Victorian mansion that housed Book Nookery, the city’s only twenty-four-hour bookstore. “You’re certain this isn’t a wizard House?” he asked. “Because it seems like one.”

I stepped onto the front walkway, passing through the open front gate where a wooden signpost for the bookstore hung. “No, it’s run by an older woman named Ms. Booker and her handful of employees. Ms. Booker is a wizard, but she doesn’t have a House.”

I peered up, admiring the white ornamental trim and gables that had fairy tale shapes carved into them—the closest one was of a mermaid perched on a pier. “But the store caters to supernaturals with night hours for nocturnal supernaturals, and Book Nookery has reference books about and for supernaturals.”

“I see.” Connor studied the lamppost that lit up the front sidewalk but was always sputtering. “And why are we here?”

I squeezed my eyes shut when a sudden blast of wind plastered my short, red hair to my face. “Because I’m looking for self-help books on effective communication.”

“Why bother?” Connor asked.

I charged towards the store. “Because the more strategies I know, the more tools I’ll have available to use in conversation.”

“In theory, that sounds correct, but have you ever considered that you psyche yourself out with your demand for verbal perfection?” Connor ambled after me.

“No,” I automatically said, then mentally paused.

Maybe Connor is right—in a way—and this is about control.

I was pleased the task force had found and dealt with the last boar, but I didn’t like that the case just…ended, with no resolution. Maybe I was attempting to bring control to another situation to make up for it?

I shook the idea off—even if it was right, I didn’t have to change my plan—and prepared to march off again.

Connor reached out to snag me by my jacket’s hood. “Slow down, Provisions.” He tugged me backwards so we could step onto the house’s porch and enter the magical bookstore together.

The front door opened into the bookstore’s main parlor, where the checkout desk and staircase leading to Ms. Booker’s private upstairs rooms crowded one end, while zig zagging bookshelves filled up all other available space.

The shop’s proprietress, Ms. Booker, stood behind the giant checkout desk—which was reminiscent of a library’s reference desk.

Her shoulder length brown hair streaked with natural gray and not even the smallest hint of frizz made her an unlikely sort of guardian over the store. But the scant times I’d met her she seemed to exude equal parts power and old school elegance—the kind you didn’t often see these days.

When she saw us she smiled, showing off the kind crinkles around the corner of her lips and wrinkling her button nose. “Welcome to Book Nookery,” she said. “Have you been here before?”

“Yes,” I said, then paused. “No. That is.” Embarrassment over my mixed words made heat bloom on my cheeks and my heart twist in my chest. I looked up at Connor.

He was busy peering up at the tall ceiling, from which a model airplane, a hot air balloon, and a herd of origami pegasus made of silver and gold paper hung. He patted my shoulder. “You’re charming enough on your own.”

He’s not going to be any help.I took a deep breath, then tried again. “I’ve been here,” I said—short sentences were easier to gurgle out. “He has not.”

“I see.” Ms. Booker eyed me, and there was something about the way her eyes flicked back and forth between me and Connor. “Out on a date night, are we?”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“A date night. Unless you two are just friends?” Ms. Booker asked with too much innocence.

Connor exploded into deep laughter, and he finally stopped surveying the book store to bump my shoulder with amusement.

“No, definitely not dating,” I said. “Absolutelynot. Nope. No.”

There was a smile playing at Ms. Bookers lips that made me think she knew we were just friends, but was having fun teasing us. “I see.”

Connor abruptly cut off his laughter and frowned at me. “Did you really need to deny it that strongly?”

I awkwardly shuffled my feet. “I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”