Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“Lorcan told me to ingratiate myself with you and report back,” Niamh said. “Well, then we met at the bookstore and you didn’t seem like what Lorcan had suggested.”
“And what did he suggest?” Graves asked, deadly low.
Niamh shrugged. “I gathered that he thought you might be controlling her. But you weren’t around. There were only two lost girls in my city, and I just couldn’t have that. So I offered to help. I haven’t been reporting anything to him, and here we are.”
“Obviously she’s lying,” Graves said.
Kierse tilted her head at Niamh. She’d known the girl for the better part of five months and felt an unexpected kindred connection with her. There was no way to discern the truth for certain, but Kierse usually trusted her gut.
“I don’t think she is,” Kierse said.
Graves clenched his hands into fists, but he said nothing further, though she knew he wanted to. He was in her apartment. She could make her own decisions. And despite everything, she liked Niamh. Maybe she was still working for Lorcan. Maybe she wasn’t.
“Come on. Oisín will tell you the right of it,” Niamh promised. She yanked the door open for everyone. “The man doesn’t lie.”
“At least someone doesn’t,” Kierse grumbled. But she followed everyone else out the door, double-checking the warding before taking the stairs.
“He knows how to twist the truth to suit him, though,” Graves said.
“Did he learn that from you?” Niamh asked, tilting her head. She might look like a bubbly Catholic school girl, but Kierse knew that there was more to Niamh than met the eye. Maybe that was what had drawn Kierse to her to begin with.
“From the Fae.” Graves turned away from Niamh in exasperation. “I agree that a trip to Oisín will be illuminating. He can convince you to leave this foolish task you are set on, as well,” he said, glancing at Kierse.
“What task?” Niamh asked as they reached the landing.
Kierse rolled her eyes. “I am not changing my mind about going into the market.”
“Wait, you’re going into the market?” Niamh asked in alarm. “What could you possibly want in Nying Market?”
“She’s been having nightmares,” Gen explained.
Graves pushed past Niamh and opened the building’s front door. “The market is the nightmare.”
“He’s not wrong,” Niamh said.
“It’s unnerving to agree with her this much,” Graves told Kierse.
“Is that what the potions have been for?” Niamh asked. “The nightmares?”
Kierse nodded. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Gen the nightmares were possibly real memories when they had been alone together. She was going to have to figure out how to tell her that things had changed.
Graves gave her a knowing look as the limo pulled up to the curb.
“Uh…the bookstore is around the corner,” Niamh interrupted. “We don’t need a limo.”
“It’s for safety,” Graves said, opening the door for them.
“It looks like convenience. Don’t you want to walk the Dublin streets while you still can?” Niamh asked with an antagonizing smile.
“‘While I still can’?” he all but growled.
“Seriously, Graves, it’s fine,” Kierse said. “I’ve walked this route a hundred times. But if you need the limo…”
Gen sealed her lips shut as if she could barely suppress a laugh.
Graves shut the door and tapped the top twice in some signal to George. “A walk sounds lovely.”
“I’m sure,” Niamh said with fluttering eyelashes. “Well, come on, handsome. I bet you still remember the way.”
“I certainly do.”
“Oisín will set this all right,” Niamh promised.
Chapter Thirteen
The entrance to the bookstore was so small that if you blinked you might miss it. Tucked into a corner in the shopping center on Grafton Street, the front entrance was only the width of a single doorway that read The Bookstore in crumbling gold lettering with The Goblin Market written underneath it in red paint. There was a single exterior window crowded with moldering books that looked out onto the cobbled stone street where tourists flocked. It was flanked on one side by a noisy pub and on the other by a jeweler that proudly noted they had been established in the 1800s.
Niamh tugged the door open. A bell jangled overhead. “Here we are.”
Kierse stepped through to the darkened interior with a single Edison bulb swinging over the entrance before disappearing into the maze of bookshelves. She inhaled the scent of paper and ink and leather. It settled her.
“Just as I remember,” Graves said, stepping to her side. His sleeve brushed against her jacket. For a second, she could smell his magic, and she realized that what had settled her in this place the whole time was…him.
She cleared her throat and put more distance between them.
Gen and Niamh followed next, the door swinging shut noisily behind them.
Niamh called into the bookstore, “Oisín?”
No response.
She waved her hand at the lot of them. “Just stay put. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”
Niamh tramped off into the stacks, disappearing almost instantly as if a cloud of black shadow had swallowed her whole.