Chapter 26
Jade
I froze the moment I saw him. David stood near the window of Mr. Nanook’s office, the Boston skyline glinting behind him like a smug halo.
He still had the same sharp cheekbones and the same self-satisfied half-smile.
He also wore the same expensive suit that looked impressive until you noticed the puckered seams and the way the shoulders never quite sat right. Of all the people in the world.
I felt my temper flare, hot and immediate, but I swallowed it down with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent her life trying not to combust in public.
I was here on Luther’s behalf. I was a professional.
I could do this. I straightened my spine, smoothed my gloves where they rested atop my kit, and reminded myself that I had, in fact, kicked David in the nuts once already.
If necessary, I could survive not doing it again.
Mr. Nanook turned toward us with an easy smile that didn’t quite hide how much space he took up simply by existing.
He was handsome in that severe, wintry way, his white-blond hair pulled back neatly, his pale eyes sharp as cut ice.
Power radiated off him, old and controlled, like a glacier that had learned to wear a tailored suit.
“Miss Whitaker,” he said, inclining his head to me.
“I’ve heard excellent things.” That surprised me, especially with David in the room.
If he’d known I was coming, he would have made sure Mr. Nanook had heard some very non-excellent things instead.
I managed a polite smile that masked my surprise.
“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you. ”
Beside me, Luther was all stillness and coiled patience, his hands clasped behind his back. His gray eyes flicked once to David and away again, dismissive as a closed door and as cold as ice. I had no doubt he was the source of the “excellent things” Mr. Nanook was talking about.
Introductions were made with crisp efficiency and not so much as a whiff of small talk.
I appreciated that; better to get this over with.
David’s gaze snagged on me, then lingered long enough to be pointed before it slid back to Luther with a look that suggested he’d found a loose thread to pull.
I firmed my resolve to make certain there wouldn’t be one.
I knew Luther was solidly in my camp, and his belief in me was the only thing that mattered.
The air cooled perceptibly as Luther and Mr. Nanook began circling one another verbally: courteous, precise, every word weighed.
It was business masking a ritual as old as time; ancient predators measuring territory with smiles and words polite but sharp as a blade.
“Before we discuss price,” I said, cutting in gently but firmly, “I’ll need to examine the book. ”
Both men turned to me. Luther’s expression softened a fraction, an almost-smile at the corner of his mouth. Mr. Nanook nodded once. “Of course,” he said, and I hoped that the interest in his sharp gaze meant I’d made a good impression with that comment.
I picked up the gloves from the top of my kit and began pulling them on, the familiar ritual grounding me.
The book lay in a protective case at the center of the massive mahogany desk like an offering.
Even closed, it thrummed faintly under my senses.
I didn’t think that was magic, I doubted a mere human like me could sense that, but I liked to believe it was age: history pressed flat and bound in the shape of a book.
I had just eased it open when David scoffed. “You know,” he said, conversational and cruel, “I did wonder why you’d bring her. She always was more… enthusiastic than accurate.” He spoke over me as if I were not even there, directing the sharp words at Luther as if he were trying to do him a favor.
Heat flushed my cheeks as mortification tangled with fury, and my fingers curled inside the gloves.
I kept my eyes on the vellum, on the careful ink strokes, on not launching myself across the table.
I managed it, but only by the breadth of a hair.
That bastard, he deserved another kick to the nuts, perhaps two for good measure. Wasn’t he done smearing my reputation?
“I’d hate for you to make an expensive mistake, Luther,” David went on.
“Sentiment can be such a liability.” He made his eyes slide over my body, pointedly lingering on each curve and the hint of cleavage at the open button of my blouse.
The implication was obvious, so blatant that it crackled through the air.
It made Mr. Nanook tilt his head, his hulking frame leaning lazily back in his throne-like seat as he appraised me with new eyes.
The silence that followed that statement felt so cold I actually shivered.
Danger stirred in the air and made my skin break out in goosebumps, my senses warning me that a predator was in the room and ready to charge.
Luther lifted his head slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was mild, dangerously so.
“Mr. Hargreeve,” he said, “your expertise lies in acquisition, not discernment. You can identify a manuscript; you cannot understand it. While I believe you do possess a certain… talent for self-promotion, you lack the moral fiber required for this transaction.” Luther did not appear to have moved, but it felt like he was closer anyway—his body nearer to my side, where I was leaning over the book, and partially between David and me.
My ex flushed. “I…” he stuttered, but clearly lost for words, he trailed off.
I’d never seen him hesitate or defer to another, but he definitely glanced over to Mr. Nanook, as if he expected backup from that corner.
There wasn’t any. The bookseller was watching the scene unfold coolly, with only the barest hint of interest.
Luther didn’t raise his voice, but then, he didn’t need to, that collected coldness cut far sharper.
“If I require advice on integrity, I assure you, I will not seek it from a man who sells trust as readily as slander.” The words landed clean and surgical.
I felt them like a balm and a battle cry all at once.
Warmth rushed through me, sudden and fierce, settling somewhere dangerously close to my heart.
Mr. Nanook chuckled, cold eyes heating with amusement at David’s expense.
“Well said,” he drawled. His sharp gaze appraised David now, as if he were wondering what kind of snake he’d brought into his office, into his home.
I bent back over the book before my expression could give me away, but I felt extremely vindicated.
The materials were exquisite: calfskin vellum, hand-ruled margins, iron-gall ink with the faint corrosion at the edges that came from centuries of patience.
The script was Carolingian minuscule, clean and deliberate.
“Late twelfth century,” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.
“Northern France, maybe Flanders. But...” I tilted the page, examining the illumination.
“I believe this is a copy. Faithful, but not the original text. Perhaps even a translation of something much older.”
Luther stepped closer, and I felt the warmth from his body warm my back.
“Does it contain what we need?” Perusing a few more pages carefully, I tried rapidly to make sense of the Latin it was written in.
Then I looked up at him and gave a slight nod.
The name of the creature was in this text repeatedly.
I’d have to spend more time with it to know exactly what it said, but it definitely discussed the Galamut.
His eyes darkened with satisfaction, and answering satisfaction coiled through my belly.
If this had answers that could help Hillcrest Hollow, that felt good.
I really liked the people who lived there, I loved the library even more, and I was starting to think that being eternally bound to the vampire next door was a blessing, not a curse.
I wanted to do my part in protecting the place that had accepted me, and my skills—and this text—might help us do that.
David opened his mouth again, and I knew he was going to protest, perhaps dispute what I’d said.
I knew I had not made a mistake; I’d bet good money on being right on each count.
David had his own professional reputation to uphold too, would he go so far as to wrongly deny my observations just to spite me?
Mr. Nanook shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass, and he snapped his mouth shut.
“That will be quite enough,” the impressive bookseller said, though David had not spoken at all.
I fought a grin, but I was pretty sure I’d failed.
The bargaining that followed was brisk and brutal.
Figures were named, countered, and discarded.
When they finally settled, it was with the air of two titans agreeing that the earth could keep spinning.
I was a little in awe of Luther’s bargaining skills, and deeply aware—on a visceral level—that he’d taken great pleasure in the exchange.
The biggest part of me, however, was in shock at the astronomical prices they had casually bandied about.
Not long after, we were back in the car, the city lights sliding past behind tinted glass.
The privacy partition hummed into place so the driver could no longer hear us.
My heart was still slamming uncomfortably hard against my ribs.
That had been a thrill, and a bit of a wild ride, but I had the book inside a protective casing in my lap. We did it.
Belfry’s delighted voice filled my head.
Did you see his face? Oh, I could drink that smugness for weeks.
I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me before I could stop it.
Adrenaline still sang in my veins. I knew the little bat wasn’t talking about Mr. Nanook but about David, who had definitely looked like he’d been forced to swallow a lemon.