Page 9 of The Autumn Leaf Bookshop (Everly Hollow #1)

Four Lanterns

Sylas

I ’m missing another book. Again.

What the hell is happening in this shop?

Raene said she signed fifteen books. I counted fifteen when I pulled them off the shelves, lined them up neatly on the table beside me.

I even grabbed exactly fifteen ‘Signed Exclusive’ stickers from the roll, because apparently, I’m the kind of guy who double-checks his math before placing stickers on romance novels.

But when I came back with the stickers and got to work, I only tagged fourteen books.

And somehow, I had one sticker left staring back at me like a smug little reminder that something’s off.

I don’t have cameras here, and maybe I should, but I haven’t had this problem. Ever. Especially living in a small town. Sure, we get passersby and tourists now and then, but theft? Never. How the hell are my books going missing? I’m going to have to keep an eye on things. Actually...

“ Nim ,” I call through the bond. My thoughts reach out like a quiet knock on his sleepy consciousness. There’s rustling in the leaves above me as he slinks down a lower branch, stretching his body. His scales blend in with the hues of the fall leaves.

"Yes, master," he drawls, voice dripping with dramatic obedience.

I roll my eyes. He can’t see it. My back’s turned while I reshelve the books, but knowing Nim, he can feel the sarcasm anyway.

“I’m missing another book. Seems to be a trend lately,” I say, voice tight.

The last book is finally shelved, a little harder than I expected, but I’m frustrated.

“ Calm down, there, tiger. ” I hear his chuff echoing through my mind, lazy and amused. “ Don’t you have somewhere to be? People to meet, drinks, and a certain author to continue…what do you call it again? Crushing on?”

Huffing out a breath, I move through the shop to tidy the chairs and straighten the books. “I have time. It’s not that far of a walk.” I flick off one of the lamps, casting the corners into shadows. “And I don’t have a crush.”

Did he just snort? By the seven..

"Sure, Sylas. Whatever helps you sleep tonight. You were so flustered earlier, you couldn’t tell if your sleeves were up or down."

A scowl crosses my face as he flutters up to his favorite perch atop the bookshelf, heat creeping up the back of my neck. “You know, there are rules against workplace harassment.”

“And yet you keep me around.” His arrogance radiates through the bond.

He glances up toward the skylight, wings stretching in a lazy ripple. “ Maybe I’ll grab some dinner for myself as well. You know, before it gets too late.”

Grabbing my jacket, I shoot him a look. “ Just make sure you shut the skylight when you return.”

"Relax," Nim says, tail flicking with attitude. "I’ll shut the window. Wouldn’t want your precious books catching a chill."

Shaking my head, the last switch flips off, plunging the shop into darkness, save for the front porch light and the sunset peeping through the glass. “For the love of the goddesses, you’re exhausting.”

"But charming, yet I’m still underpaid and underappreciated,” he says.

Locking the door, I can’t help the low chuckle that slips out. The night air greets me, crisp and cool. Lantern light spills across the cobbled street, guiding my journey.

Yeah. I can definitely use a drink.

The bar sits tucked between two buildings, The Sugar Plum Bakery and The Stone Hearth Bakery , on the cobblestone street.

Its exterior is a blend of weathered dark wood and stone.

Ivy grows from the corner. Above the arched doorway, four lanterns hung in a staggered row, each glowing a golden hue.

Above the lanterns, the large wooden sign, etched, Four Lanterns, swings gently in the breeze, creaking softly as if to say ‘ Hello ’ .

A worn welcome mat lies at the door with a cheeky message embroidered in faded gold thread: Please come in!

Vampires.

Opening the door, warmth hits me in the face. The sound of laughter and conversation blends with the clinking of glasses, classic rock on the speakers, and the comforting scent of ale and rich, savory food fills the air.

The windows are shuttered tight to keep the daylight out, but the bar is softly illuminated by lanterns hanging from wrought-iron brackets, casting pools of light across the dark wooden floors.

Patrons fill the tables and surround the two pool tables off to the side. Behind the bar are two flat-screen TVs and a large mirror, reflecting everything within view, including the bottles of liquor and beer taps, but Malik’s reflection is nowhere to be seen.

He stands with a quiet, commanding presence as he dries each glass, one by one.

His skin is cool, ivory, with thick, chestnut-brown hair slicked back, just a hint of pomade, sleeves casually pushed to his elbows, revealing toned forearms. A gold watch chain gleams against his tailored vest, and a well-manicured beard frames sharp features.

His piercing grey eyes hold countless stories.

He’s centuries old, but will forever look thirty-three years old.

As his gaze finds me, a slow, knowing smile tugs at his lips, and he raises a hand in greeting. Weaving in between the tables, I make my way to the bar.

“Your usual?” Malik asks, tossing the towel on the counter .

I nod while he grabs a hammered glass and begins making an Old Fashioned, topping it off with an orange peel.

“How was your day?" He asks, sliding the drink across the bar top as I toss a few bills on the counter in exchange.

“Not bad,” I answer, but my mind drifts before the words even settle.

Raene.

I can’t believe she’s Vera’s granddaughter, and it took her coming here for me to figure it out. Otherwise, it would have remained a well-kept secret. And now, those honey-brown eyes won’t leave my head. Neither will the scent of her: coconut, sunlight, and salt-kissed skin.

And why the fuck did I tell her I read her books? Twice.

“See… ” Nim’s voice hums through my head with teasing delight. “I told you. Crushing.”

I take a long sip of my drink, letting the burn anchor me back in the moment. If I’m smart, I’ll keep my distance. She’s here visiting. Which means temporary, and that equates to trouble.

Before I can respond, Malik tips his chin toward the front door just as it swings open.

Viktor steps through first, filling the doorway with his broad, minotaur frame.

Tawny, coarse fur stretched over powerful shoulders.

He runs a hand through the thick chestnut hair between his curved horns, a lazy grin stretching across his face.

A well-worn flannel shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, clings to his massive chest, faded jeans flowing down to the side of his hooves .

Garruk follows, his black tousled hair falling across his brow, the orc’s sharp gaze sweeping the bar. And last, Dominik strolls in. He’s tall with dark skin, warm in the lantern light, long locs pulled back loosely. He seems calm and peaceful beneath his easy smile.

“Look who finally crawled out of his crypt,” Viktor calls toward the bar, his voice booming.

“The sunshine treating you well today, Malik?” Garruk adds, lips twitching as he leans into the bar.

Smirking, Dominik slides onto a barstool. “You missed a hell of a blue sky, my friend.”

Malik snorts, grabbing another glass without missing a beat. “I’ll take shadows and whiskey over sunburn and sweat any day, but thanks for your concern.”

“Aw, he missed us,” Garruk says, nudging Viktor with his elbow.

“Like a stake to the heart,” Malik deadpans.

A smile tugs at my mouth as I lift my drink. Yeah, this...this is exactly what I needed tonight.

“Bullshit!” Viktor bellows, gripping his pool cue like he’s two seconds from snapping it clean in half. He cuts a sharp side-eye toward the bar.

The rest of us glance over our shoulders to find Malik already shooting daggers this way. Beside him, a tall, curvy woman named Oriana, with ocean blue hair, leans against the bar, twirling a lock around her finger. She bites her lower lip, watching Malik with open interest.

With a huff that shakes his shoulders, Viktor lays the pool cue down in defeat, glaring at Dominik, who spreads his arms wide like his smile.

“Come at me, bro.”

No one really beats Dominik, but the guy’s always up for giving a lesson or two when he’s not busy at his flower shop. Yeah, a werewolf and a flower shop. Stop and smell the moon lily, folks.

Chuckling, I reach over to the fry basket on the table I’m standing next to. Dipping it in ketchup before popping it in my mouth.

Best Fries Ever.

These are not your average fast-food fries. These fries are magic. They’re always hot, crispy, and perfectly salted.

“ Enough, ” he hisses, the word slithers down the edges of my mind.

“ENOUGH about the potato,” Nim chuffs . “We get it. Everyone gets it. It’s not your basic French fry. I’m looking for real food now. Not a root vegetable. I’m blocking you temporarily.”

“Average French fry,” I retort. Throwing a pinch of ketchup-dipped French fries into my mouth for good measure.

“Who’s next?” Dominik asks, holding the pool stick out like a sword, about who is getting killed next.

His words bring me out of my mind, from where I now feel a solid wall of Nim building. I put my hands up in mock surrender, my fingers curved around the neck of my beer .

“I’m not getting my ass beat again tonight, maybe next week?” I chuckle before taking a swig of my drink.

Garruk takes a large bite of his spicy chicken sandwich before pushing his chair back and standing up, sauntering towards the pool table.“It’s time to lose, once and for all,” he gruffs, racking the pool balls.

“Is Ambrose coming?” Viktor asks, while eating a buffalo wing.

I shrug my shoulders. “If he hasn’t come already, he isn’t coming.”

Ambrose. Identical twin brother to Malik, but the resemblance stops at their faces.

He’s not cold, just...distant. Kind, in his own quiet way.

Not sociable like his brother, and yes, he’s a vampire too.

That’s a tale Malik only shares on his darkest nights, and I’ve only heard it once.

I’m not sure if Ambrose has ever told a soul.

Dominik lines up his shot and sinks the three ball in the corner pocket with a satisfying crack. “Maybe next time,” he says, straightening with a grin.

“Any new ideas for the fall festival, Sylas?” He asks, lining up his next shot.

“Yeah, Sylas, any fresh ideas?” Dominik echoes, mouthing at me behind Garruk’s back, “ Keep talking, distract him .”

“I’ll let you know when the time is right.”

Truth is, I love planning the Fall Festival. But right now? I’m fresh out of ideas. And with the committee down to basically me and Nim, let’s just say brainstorming with a snarky miniature dragon isn’t exactly a think tank .

I pause, waiting for Nim to chime in. Silence. Great. The little menace still has his mental walls up.

“How’s business?” I ask, turning towards Viktor. “Finally, time to get a partner, you know…with you getting older and all?”

“You wanna talk about old?” Viktor shoots back, wiping buffalo sauce off his fingers with a napkin. “Not all of us get to walk around looking like the damn Pumpkin King.”

I chuckle, taking a bite of my cheesesteak sandwich.

Viktor grins, tossing his napkin aside. “Yeah, I’m thinking by spring I’ll finally take on a co-manager. Business is booming. Hard to keep up when the surrounding towns have numerous tasks along with this one.”

Viktor was a contractor. It was amazing what he could fix, repair, and build. His business is growing, and I’m not sure how he does it. Sure, he hires a crew when needed, but handling the business of it all, the help is long overdue.

Propping his pool cue against the table, Dominik eyes the double bacon cheeseburger that was just delivered.

He drops into his seat and unwraps the paper surrounding it like it’s one of the best things he’s seen all day.

He takes a massive bite. “So, I met Vera’s granddaughter this morning.

Looks like she and Jas are on their way to being best friends after some coffee and pastries. ”

I nod, already waiting for someone to bring up our newest visitor. Figures it’d be him. “Yeah, she stopped by the shop. She’s an author.”

Dominik’s eyebrows shoot up. “Any good? ”

I grab a fry, chewing slowly before clearing my throat. “I’ve got every one of her books on my shelves. She even signed a few today. Her books sell really well.”

No way in the blessed realms am I telling them I’ve actually read them. I’d never hear the end of it.

Garruk turns a chair backward before straddling it, resting his broad arms along the top rail like he’s settling in for a good story. A slow grin creeps across his tusked face. “So…is she cute?”

Sharp pangs of jealousy tighten in my chest before I can stop it. Damn it. This is ridiculous.

Viktor lets out a booming laugh, pointing his beer bottle at me. “Look at his face. That’s a yes if I’ve ever seen one.”

I scowl, but the corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. “Relax. She’s here for her grandmother, not for dating.”

Garruk holds up a hand. “No one said anything about dating. Yet,” he says, winking. “Just curious if she’d like to stop by the best bakery in town, say hi sometime.”

Dominik points a fry at Garruk, a wicked grin spreading. “Remember the time your cinnamon rolls had the consistency of a tire?” He pops the fry in his mouth.

Laughter ripples around the table, blending with the lively atmosphere of the bar. I shake my head, wiping my hands on a napkin before I finish off my sandwich.

Garruk groans, dragging a hand down his face. “One bad batch, Dominik. One. It was right when I was opening for the first time, and I kneaded the dough for too long. A Rookie mistake. ”

Viktor leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Pretty sure the townsfolk used those rolls to patch the potholes on Maple Street.”

Garruk flips him off before grabbing his beer. “Laugh it up. I’ll remember this when you’re begging for my shop’s pumpkin loaf and chocolate croissants come fall.”