14. Five Hours and Twenty-Seven Minutes
Chapter 14
Five Hours and Twenty-Seven Minutes
M y foot taps against the counter rhythmically. My date with Noah starts in exactly five hours and twenty-seven minutes. And each second crawls slower than a tortoise. I have been waiting months, years, eons to see him.
Okay, it’s only been a few days since our last date at the bookstore, but ughhhhh this Friday is dragging.
Grandma’s suspiciously quiet in her little hidey-hole with Rosie and there hasn’t been a customer in an hour.
I want to read another book—hopefully about daemons—but just because Grandma is quiet doesn’t mean she’s not watching. She knows all. And I don’t want her to know this. Especially since I promised her I wouldn’t go searching for trouble.
But I can’t ignore the pull in my stomach telling me I need to keep working toward my goal. And the books have what I need.
I hop off the stool and meander my way toward the books, running my fingers along the spines. The Women of The Pruitt Line sits in exactly the same spot as last time, waiting for me to continue along our family tree.
Maybe one of my ancestors fought daemons and I can find some clarification that way?
Nestling the book in the crook of my elbow I allow myself to linger, eyes dancing over the spines. Spells, how-tos, alchemy, gardening, histories...fiction? Grandma wasn’t lying, there seem to be magical writers and novelists.
Maybe the magical world could use one more artist.
Warlocks, Daemons, And Other Evil Beings.
Bingo. That’s the book I want. That’s the book I can’t have. Slipping it underneath The Women of The Pruitt Line , and then another book underneath and pretending I grabbed it by accident wouldn’t work either.
Grandma’s too smart.
I’ll come back for it when the time is right. When I know more about my element and more about witchcraft. When I know what I’m doing well enough to not get hurt and not alert Grandma.
I’m not going to risk my lessons for anything. Not yet.