Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Travis
“Ineed you to be a real jerk right now.”
“That’s an odd request.” I frowned at Daphne over the rim of my IPA. She was looking back at me rather intently. I couldn’t imagine why she was asking this, or what she wanted me to do.
After her close encounter with the vampire, we came to Rover’s Shed, an unmarked speakeasy around the corner from Nightmare Alley. You had to know the special knock to get in. Although it had been years since I’d been here, I was glad I still remembered it.
I took another large swig and wiped the foam from my mouth with the back of my hand. I needed to tread lightly here. If she learned I’d been tailing her through Wickedville—and why—she’d know just what kind of asshole I could be.
I cared about what she thought of me. Stupid, I know. But I didn’t want her to think I was an asshole. Even though I was a giant one.
She truly didn’t seem In-The-Know when she got to the island, but maybe I was wrong. Jada had blamed bad internet targeting, but was it possible that Daphne, or someone she was in cahoots with, gamed the system in order to get her into the contest?
I didn’t want to believe she was the mole, but I hadn’t forgotten how strangely she’d acted outside the hospital, either.
Her nervous smile. Her sudden inability to meet my gaze.
I doubted it was because she didn’t want to have lunch with me.
Paired with what I’d learned from my attorney, it was obvious she was hiding something. And I was determined to find out what.
Daphne plopped her beach bag on the table with a thunk and shoved it at me, almost knocking over my pint. “Ask me again why I came to Wickedville.”
Her eyes blazed with fiery determination as she focused all of her attention on me. My cock thickened in response. I may not understand her, but fuck, the woman unleashed something wicked in me.
“Okay,” I said slowly, playing along with whatever this was. “Why did you come to Wickedville, Daphne?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Clutching the fabric of her beach bag right over the printed slogan Finding My True Nature On Darkaway Island, she jerked it forcefully off the table. “You’re an actor. I need you to act like a major jerk, okay? What do you really want to do right now?”
Bend you over this table and—
I needed to get a grip and muzzle my inner wolf better. He’d been much more aggressive lately.
“Come on, Travis,” she said, completely oblivious to my feral thoughts. “Think. WWDVD. What would Drake Valentino do?”
He’d want to fuck you too.
Heaven’s Moon! I gritted my teeth and vowed to call the pack together for a group run as soon as possible. This was ridiculous. My knee was healed enough. My ability to shift with no adverse consequences had proven that.
She shoved her bag at me again, and this time it did knock over my pint.
Swearing loudly, I sprang to my feet, but not before beer poured onto my lap. I grabbed her bag so it wouldn’t get soaked too.
Damn, it was heavy. Much heavier than I’d been expecting. For a moment, I forgot about my wet crotch. “What the hell is in this thing?”
“I’m not telling you anything, Drake. Give it to me.” She had an oddly expectant look on her face as she reached for the bag but didn’t quite touch it.
Drake? What was she—? And then I got it. Or at least, I think I did. She wanted me to do what Drake Valentino would do.
I gave her a crooked smile. “Oh no, you don’t, darlin’.” I jerked it out of her reach. “What do we have here?” I stuck my hand inside and pulled out…an ancient leather-bound book with a rusty metal clasp.
Daphne gave a little fist pump. “Yes!”
I prided myself on being fairly intuitive when it came to women. Daphne, however, wasn’t like most women. “Why are you hauling this thing around? It’s got to weigh almost ten pounds.”
“I was waiting for you to do that.”
“If you wanted to show me, why didn’t you just tell me? Why all the games?” I felt like I was auditioning for a top-secret part knowing nothing about the show or the role.
She lowered her voice. “Because I didn’t want to barf on you.”
I raised a brow, more confused than ever. She certainly didn’t look sick.
“Sit back down.” She snapped her fingers at me, and I felt my mouth quirk. No one had ever snapped their fingers at me. I doubt I’d tolerate it from anyone other than her. “I have something I can tell you now.”
Taking a seat on her side of the banquette since my side was wet, I dabbed at my crotch with a few napkins.
Her hands shook as she told me how she’d picked up the strange book in her ex-boss’ office by mistake, how her supervisor had been killed, and how she’d gotten sick whenever she tried to tell someone about the book.
I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, my protective nature rising to the surface again. “To think I’d assumed that being an unwitting Date-A-Wolf contestant and learning that the world is filled with supernatural creatures were the most stressful things you’d experienced lately.”
She nestled in closer, and I tucked her head under my chin. I’d have pulled her onto my lap if not for my wet crotch.
“I actually feel pretty safe here,” she murmured.
I hoped here meant ‘here with me’ and not just ‘on the island.’
“What were you doing in Wickedville, Daphne?” I asked, breathing in her scent and acutely aware of my erection straining at the seams. Maybe it was good I didn’t have her on my lap after all. I’d be liable to take her right here in public.
“I was trying to find the address of someone who may know something about that dumb book.” She sighed. “It sure feels good to say that to you without worrying about tossing my cookies.”
A huge weight lifted from my shoulders that Daphne’s strange behavior was because of a book and not because she was in cahoots with the Crutchfields. It was a relief to switch gears from a suspicious asshole to a determined one, wanting to help her get some answers.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing her hand. “You’ll be safe with me.”
Once we returned to Nightmare Alley, we soon found the address she’d been looking for. I pushed open the door of a dusty little shop called Dismal Devices and stepped aside to let her in first.
Wobbly stacks of manual typewriters, adding machines, rotary phones and phonographs stretched to the ceiling.
We followed a pathway through the stacks, taking care not to bump into anything.
At the end, sitting behind a gargantuan desk, was a skinny man with tiny round spectacles and an oversized handlebar mustache.
To spare Daphne from getting sick, I’d planned to do the talking, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm. “This feels...different. I think I can do it.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind.”
She gave me an appreciative smile that stirred me up again. “Positive.”
The man—Dr. Eisenhorn, according to the business cards on his desk—cleared his throat impatiently and squinted at us through his thick lenses. “Why are you here? Did you not see the sign? By appointment only.”
Daphne squared her shoulders at his rudeness and retrieved the book from her beach bag. “My friend Portia sent me. Said you’d know what to make of this.”
He inhaled sharply when she plopped the ancient-looking book down in front of him and stared at it for a moment. Then he pulled out a pair of white cloth gloves from a desk drawer and began to examine the tome.
“What do you think it is, Dr. Eisenhorn?” I asked. “And why—”
“Stop with the interruptions!” He thrust a finger at his business cards without looking up from the book. “Can you not read? Or do you just choose not to? It’s Dr. Eisenhorn THE THIRD.”
Daphne and I exchanged a quick glance. This guy was really something. Per that same business card, he was also a professor at the Darkaway College of Magical Arts. I was glad I’d attended school elsewhere.
He asked Daphne a variety of questions that she dutifully answered, and he recorded it all in a dot-grid ledger.
Who had the book before her? Was Mr. Griffin born on a Tuesday or a Saturday? Did she recall what time of day, down to the minute and second, it had come into her possession? What had she eaten for breakfast that morning? Was she right-handed or left-handed?
Finally, Dr. Eisenhorn the Third removed his specs and rubbed his eyes. “This is a dark magic spell book. Very powerful. The likes of which I can’t say I’ve ever seen before.”
Daphne brightened. “Great! You can have it then. I am so ready to be done with that darn thing.”
The professor shook his head. “No.”
Her face fell and she took a step back, looking as if she might cry.
Anger rushed through me, and I put a hand on her shoulder, but I held my tongue so she could say what she needed to say. I wanted to convey to her that I had her back.
Her hip brushed mine in acknowledgment. “Why not?” she asked. “I’ll just give it to you. For free. It came into my possession purely by accident. Portia says there’s some really bad juju in there.”
“There is,” the man said with a condescending laugh. “But I can’t take it.”
Can’t or won’t?
“See here, Dr. Eisenhorn the Third,” I interjected, unable to stay silent any longer. “The spell book clearly makes Daphne uncomfortable. You’re the expert in these matters. She isn’t.”
The man pursed his lips, which made his mustache appear to be sitting on his chin like a small rodent. Then he handed the spell book to me and told Daphne to leave. Walk to the door by herself.
“Why?” I asked.
He glared at me. “Do you want my help or not?”
The minute Daphne disappeared around one of the stacks, the book jerked in my hands as if being tugged by an invisible rope or a fish on a hook.
“Now hold it even tighter.” Eisenhorn the Third instructed me to crisscross my arms, pinning the book to my chest. To Daphne he called, “Open the door and step outside.”
I heard the creak of the heavy wood door. Almost immediately, I lurched forward, unable to remain where I was standing. If I hadn’t been holding the book as tightly as I had, I’m sure it would’ve flown from my hands.
“Okay, come back,” Eisenhorn hollered to Daphne. Then he muttered to himself and jotted more notes in his ledger.
“What happened?” Daphne demanded when she returned. “What did I miss?”
The professor set down his fountain pen. “As I suspected, the book has taken a fancy to you. It won’t let you go without it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed. “Books don’t have crushes on people.”
Eisenhorn stared at me over the top of his tiny glasses. “You teach Magical Studies at what college again, Mr. Monroe? And where did you receive your doctorate in the History of Magical Books and Incantations?”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. Fine. The man was an expert in these matters, but that didn’t make me any less frustrated.
“I don’t understand,” Daphne said. “I’ve been able to go out and not take it with me. I’ve left it in my hotel room many times.”
Eisenhorn scratched the tip of his nose. “Probably because the chain of command wasn’t broken. It doesn’t think it’s being pawned off or given to someone else.”
I leaned on the edge of his desk to think, but he cleared his throat and I straightened back up. “Okay, okay. But what can we do about it? Daphne can’t keep living like this.”
The man adjusted his glasses as he stared at the book. “Several of my colleagues are coming into town for Monsterval. Between the three of us, it’s possible we can break the affinity spell.”
“What is she supposed to do until then?”
“Sorry,” the professor said with a nonchalant shrug, making it obvious that he really wasn’t sorry. “Not my problem. She’s on her own.”
Like hell she was.
I could be a patient man when necessary, but not when it came to Daphne. The woman had gotten into my bloodstream—what affected her also affected me.
I stuffed the damn book into the damn beach bag and slung it over my shoulder, nearly knocking over Eisenhorn’s damn business cards.
“Come on.” I grabbed Daphne’s hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”