Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Of course she’s a mermaid. Don’t you have her books in your library?”
“Well, the ten of them in print.”
“Ten,” Selene snorted. “She’s written seventy-five books. And counting.”
“Seventy-five? Why haven’t I come across more?”
“Because Caprica came to the surface, what, twenty years ago. To stay for good. And she’s been writing ever since. I guess the books just never got, what, shell-bound and printed on … kelp?”
“Yes, exactly. Though, apparently, magic can be used to send books below. Finn did so for me.”
“Did he now? That’s surprisingly thoughtful for a robot.”
“I guess he didn’t get it done here.”
“I mean, I could do it. But this isn’t a spell shop. I sell books.”
“Why?”
“Why do you read books when your people are usually socializing or having lots of confusing mermaid sex?”
“Fair enough,” Iris agreed.
“My mother was one of those all-spells-all-the-time kind of witches. When I was old enough to go my own way, I decided to lean away from magic. Well, aside from the wards. And the spells to keep my coffee warm. And flip my book pages when I’m too lazy to do it myself.”
“Priorities,” Iris said.
“Exactly. So, if you’re looking for Caprica, she has her own section,” Selene said, moving out from behind the desk.
She didn’t know why she looked, but Iris glanced down to see a book sitting open and pages down on the counter. The cover was an illustrated couple standing back-to-back, arms crossed, in what had to be a clear hate-to-love rom-com.
Catching her looking, Selene’s eyes widened.
“It’s for, ah, research,” she insisted. At Iris’s scrunched brows, she rushed on, “About emotional manipulation and unrealistic expectations.”
Iris hid her smile until Selene was walking ahead of her through the stacks.
“Is this building spelled?” Iris asked as they walked deeper and deeper. So long, in fact, that it seemed impossible that they were in a normal Manhattan building—where everything felt somewhat narrow and shallow, but tall.
“It is,” Selene admitted. “It took me months to get the spell right. But there isn’t a single building in Manhattan that would be big enough to house all the books I wanted to be able to offer.”
She did have an enormous selection. Iris noted sections for each paranormal creature, with history texts, species-specific self-help, and shelves featuring authors of that species.
On top of that, she had every genre of fiction written by human authors. Though some of her labeling took some getting used to.
Swords, Spells, and Poor Life Choices was where all the Fantasy lived.
Space: The Final Tax Bracket was Science Fiction.
Plotless, but Award-Winning was what she called Literary Fiction.
And, perhaps Iris’s favorite was the New Adult section that Selene dubbed Apocalypse, but Make It Horny.
“Here we go. You get the comfy chair too,” she said, waving toward an oversized round chair. “And I even have the newest Caprica right here.” Selene pulled a thick hardcover off a shelf. “It’s actually about a mermaid. It’s the first time she’s written about one in her career. Though, given your current situation, maybe you want to avoid all things gilled and free.”
“I’m trying to sabotage my engagement,” Iris admitted, knowing she shouldn’t. But something about Selene told her that she could be trusted.
“Good for you. That’s my favorite section, by the way,” she said, gesturing over toward a three-bookcase-wide section: He Had It Coming. “Though, that’s usually when she ends up killing a dude who had it coming. I’m assuming you’re not going to murder the mayoral candidate.”
“He might be a walking campaign ad, but I don’t think he deserves to die for it.”
“That’s debatable,” Selene said, dragging a laugh out of Iris. “So, what’s the plan?”
“To make myself so undesirable from a political standpoint that he has no choice but to call it off.”
“Which lets you get off without being in trouble with the queen.”
“Exactly.”
“Have you made any progress?”
“Well, he looked about ready to pass out when I asked him about the health of his prostate this morning. That’s why I’m out in the city. Henry, Finn’s campaign manager, thought that immersing myself in the city might teach me more appropriate lines of conversation.”
“And, unfortunately for him, you ran into me. Someone who thinks helping to sabotage a high-profile political marriage is a public service. Do you want to stage a scandal? I know a guy. Actually, I am the guy.”
“I have some ideas. But I have three months, give or take, before the actual marriage.”
“Okay. Well, how many times are you going to see him between now and then?”
“Only constantly. After I poured my drink on him at our first meeting, my mother made me move in with him.”
“No way. Wait, don’t tell me there’s only one bed.”
“There’s only one bed.”
“No way. I would have thought with all the settlement money from the city, he would live in some giant penthouse or something.”
“He does live in a penthouse,” Iris said. “But there’s only a bedroom and a small office. My companion has claimed that as his own. What settlement?”