Chapter 19 Fairylight 24hr Books
Margot didn’t feel at home at very many places in San Francisco.
Even after two months in the city, she struggled to get used to being so alone and yet constantly surrounded by strangers.
With the looming holiday, she felt that isolation much more keenly.
And that was saying something, because she always struggled during Burden’s Moon.
There were only two places she felt at ease. The first, of course, was her clinic. The second was the bookstore.
The Fairylight was willfully against city coding, organization, and common sense.
The store was a maze of towering bookshelves and uneven floorboards covered in old, mismatched area rugs.
The electricity hadn’t been updated since the thirties, so exposed wiring snaked along shelves and what little could be seen of the walls, trailing up into light fixtures that glowed orange.
Margot, who’d spent most of her spare time in the shop since she discovered it, still couldn’t make heads or tails of the place.
“Bardil?” she called, adjusting her hold on the paper coffee cups in her hands, “Claudette?”
“In history, healer.”
Margot ran a hand through her windswept hair, her fingers caught in the tangles as she wound her way through the stacks. The Fairylight was probably the only place in San Francisco one could walk right by a giant and not see them.
Claudette was hunched over a rusty cart, her huge, arthritic fingers plucking up books by the tens. Margot nearly passed right by her, tucked away as she was in the moving shadows cast by the buzzing lights. Seeing the giant was always a pleasure, but it was particularly nice on that rainy Sunday.
Turning her great head to look at Margot through coke-bottle glasses, her cloud of white hair swaying, Claudette asked, “Everything all right there, healer?”
Margot offered her friend the coffee she’d picked up from Ruffled Feathers. When Claudette took it between two fingers, Margot unzipped her jacket with her free hand, letting in the musty warmth. Looking up at her elderly friend, the words came out in one gust. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“You look it. Did the clinic get busy?”
Margot shook her head. “No, I just had a less than sane idea last night.”
The giantess’ fingers stilled on the shelf. Her eyebrows, white bushy things that stuck out above her lenses, pinched on her wrinkled forehead. “What? You planning a coup or something? The elves won’t take kindly to that, I tell you what.”
“What? No.” She shuddered. “I could never run this territory.”
“Then what? Are you planning a murder?”
Margot watched Claudette turn her attention back to the shelf. “No,” she answered, already flustered. “I just— I went to the market off of Carolina Street the other day, and I noticed… Well, you remember when we were talking about how there used to be a clinic in there when I came by last week?”
“Ah.” Claudette’s old bones creaked as she roughly scooted books to one side, making room for newcomers. Margot never once caught her actually organizing a pile of books, but somehow they were always in order by the time they made it to the shelf. “So you bought contraband.”
“Huh? No! What would I even do with— I want to reopen a clinic there. You know, for all the people who can’t or won’t go somewhere—”
“Ah, ah! This sounds like it’ll take a while. If you’re going to chat, you’re going to work.” Claudette jabbed a meaty finger at a stack of paperbacks on the cart, saying, “You know the drill, healer. No free rides in this bookshop. You buy or you work.”
Taking a long draw from her coffee, Margot nodded. She didn’t mind being put to work, just as Claudette had never minded telling her what to do. She’d had Margot shelving books halfway through their first conversation, when she wandered in looking for more vintage sci-fi paperbacks.
Real paper books weren’t terribly common, so when she found a shop that sold them in abundance, she never passed up the chance to find treasures. It was a lucky thing that she found a friend inside, too.
Hefting the stack into the crook of her elbow, Margot prowled the section to find the proper places. She could alphabetize. She could artfully arrange. She could get her over-excited thoughts in order.
Words tumbled out of her as she worked, painting a rough picture of what she’s spent the entire night planning. It’d been a welcome break from the panic and fear that clawed at her in the dark, made all the worse by the looming holiday — which might very well be her last.
Claudette listened dutifully to her rambling, interrupting her only once to offer help with a tall shelf.
When she’d finished, the giantess made a thoughtful sound and summarized, “You want to open a secret clinic. That doesn’t seem so bad.
The city might have a problem with it, mind, if they discover you’re pilfering supplies, but who cares what they think?
They’ve been trying to shut me down for code violations for nearly a hundred years. ”
Margot stared at the nearly empty cart, her filed nails worrying the peeling black paint on the handle. She shook her head. “I know it’s not that daring. I just… I’ve never done anything rebellious in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever even broken a rule.”
“You came here all on your own,” Claudette pointed out.
Because I’m running out of time, she silently replied. The clock was ticking not just for her to find her bondmate, that faceless person who’d save her life, but to be useful. To be anything of worth at all.
“I want to help people,” she sighed. “And I just don’t feel like I’m doing that in the St. Francis Woods healing house. Not enough.”
Claudette snorted. “Then do it.” Her glasses slid down the length of her nose, but were saved from an untimely descent by the bulbous, rosy tip.
Claudette reached out to tweak the round ear that peeked out from behind Margot’s red hair, a toothy smile crinkling the skin around her eyes.
“You’ve got good instincts. Use them, huh? ”
“It does feel right,” she admitted, a familiar certainty settling in her gut. It was the same feeling that had drawn her relentlessly toward San Francisco. That had to mean something.
Right?
A hot puff of air stirred her hair. Margot looked up, startled to find Claudette was rolling her eyes at her. “What?” she asked, baffled.
The giantess waved a huge hand dismissively. “You’re a witch, Margot. And you’re a young, beautiful, single one at that. It’s unnatural to be so unsure of yourself. Straighten your shoulders and get out in the world already. It’s waiting for you.”
Slinging a heavy arm over her shoulders, Claudette gave her a reassuring, bone-crushing squeeze. “Drink your coffee,” she sternly ordered. “Then grab another stack of books. Burden’s Moon is coming. Do you have any idea how much stocking I have to do to get ready for all the gift-giving?”