Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
T he light behind Luke’s eyelids was painfully bright. A memory ghosted through his mind. A blazing heat scorching him from within. So hot that after a while he couldn’t tell if he was freezing or burning. It was all pain. He shuddered and opened his eyes a crack.
The light stung and he blinked, wincing. Gradually, his vision cleared and he saw that he was in bed in his room above the shop. The curtains were drawn and he could see that it actually wasn’t bright at all. Esme was asleep in a chair by his bed, her head lolling at an uncomfortable-looking angle.
At the same moment that he realised he was wearing boxer shorts and had nothing else, Esme stirred. He hastily grabbed the cotton sheet that was pushed to the bottom of the bed and pulled it up and over his body. The bed felt unpleasantly damp, and he was fast becoming aware that he reeked. Sweat. And he hated to think what his breath was like because his mouth felt drier than the Sahara.
Esme smiled at him. ‘You’re awake.’
Luke tried to reply, but his voice stuck in his throat. He was embarrassed by the weird croaking sound, but Esme didn’t seem to notice. She was bustling in a professional manner. Moving his pillows and helping him to sit up. Then, blessed be to all the saints, she passed him a pint glass of blackcurrant squash with a pink bendy straw. He drained half of it before registering that it tasted weird.
‘Salt,’ Esme said. ‘You need to replace some.’
As the liquid soothed his throat, he felt his head clearing. He felt he must have been very ill. A high temperature would have made him feel like he was burning. He grimaced at the memory of that terrible sensation. He had been boiling alive. Flesh liquefying and bubbling.
Pushing it back down, he tried to focus. ‘How long?’
‘Couple of days. Bee found you. Take the rest of that slowly or it will come back up.’
Luke felt hollowed out, couldn’t imagine there was anything to vomit. But he didn’t want to tempt it, so he lowered the glass. ‘I hope I’m not contagious.’ The thought was sudden. If he had the flu this badly, he didn’t want Esme to get it.
A strange expression crossed her face before it was replaced with her professional calm. ‘What do you remember?’
The question was a strange one. But as he rested his head on the pillows and thought, he realised that he didn’t remember feeling ill. He had been downstairs. The front room of the shop. He had been reading Alvis’s book. No, he had been trying to read something else. It came back to him. He had been arguing with the shop. Ignoring how weird that thought was, it had been a normal day.
He saw a stack of leather-bound books on the counter. Covers burnished and glowing in the late afternoon sunlight coming through the front window. ‘There was a delivery. Really old books. And…’ He could see another book. Feel the slim shape in his hands as he unwrapped the tissue paper. Panic rushed through his body, leaving an acrid taste on his tongue. He wanted to reach back in time and tell himself not to open that book.
‘What?’ Esme was perched on the side of the bed, her features creased in a frown.
‘Don’t touch the thin book.’
Her frown deepened, and she reached to put a hand on his forehead. ‘You said that before.’
Luke realised that she thought he was incoherent. ‘I’m not feverish. There was a book at the bottom of the box. Smaller than the others. I opened it and that’s the last thing I remember.’ Well, that wasn’t strictly true. He remembered burning pain in every part of his body. But he wasn’t going to say that to Esme. She already looked spooked enough. ‘Where is it?’ Sitting forward in his agitation set his head spinning and he slumped back.
‘I’ve taken care of it,’ Esme said. ‘It’s in a safe place.’
Her voice still had a professional tinge, and he was worried she didn’t believe him. He struggled to sit straighter, to appear more lucid. She had to believe him. Had to understand. ‘It’s dangerous. It was the book. The thin one.’
‘I won’t touch it,’ Esme said soothingly. ‘I promise.’
He relaxed a little. ‘I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I really think it did this… That doesn’t make sense. Does it?’ He was distracted by a sharp pain in his chest. The fabric of the sheet had moved across something sore and he moved the fabric to look. A pattern of semi-circular cuts were splayed on the left side of his chest, around his heart. Five crescent moons, as if someone had dug long fingernails into his flesh.
Tobias, Bee and Esme stood by the counter of the bookshop, speaking in hushed tones.
‘We should be wary of them all,’ Tobias said.
‘Luke wasn’t affected until he touched that one,’ Esme pointed at the top-most book in the pile.
They all contemplated the innocuous-looking volume. It had a pale brown leather cover that looked thin and pliable, and the pages were slightly ragged on the edges. There was probably a term for it, and Alvis would have known it.
‘It looks more like a journal,’ Bee said. ‘I wonder if it’s handwritten inside.’
‘Don’t touch it,’ Esme said, earning herself a withering look from Bee.
‘I’ll try to restrain myself,’ she said drily.
‘He said it was wrapped in tissue paper. Maybe if we protect our skin, we will be able to move it safely. It feels wrong to leave it just sitting there.’
‘I would be willing to risk it,’ Tobias said, peering at the book.
‘Don’t you dare. That young man could have died,’ Bee said severely. ‘I could get my sisters.’
‘We don’t want to impose,’ Esme said. ‘Not again. Not so soon after…’
Bee could understand the witch’s reluctance. It showed a healthy sense of self-preservation that she was glad to see. The woman was growing more solid. Stronger.
‘More pertinent,’ Tobias said. ‘Is who sent this? And why?’
There was a delivery note and they all contemplated it.
‘They might not have known about the killer book,’ Bee said after a moment. ‘If they handled it wrapped.’
‘Is this normal? A delivery of books like this?’
‘Not abnormal,’ Tobias said. ‘The bookshop keeps the lore for these islands.’
‘Britain,’ Bee clarified. ‘The United Kingdom. Whatever it is being called at the moment. The collection of islands settled between the Atlantic Ocean and the English Channel.’
‘Why didn’t I know this?’
Bee looked surprised. ‘Didn’t Alvis tell you?’
Esme shook her head, looking dejected. ‘She can’t have trusted me.’
‘That’s not necessarily true,’ Tobias said. ‘She might have assumed one of us had mentioned it. Or that you knew through other means. You are our Ward Witch, after all.’
‘So, we can look through her address book, see who she usually received items from. See if this place is new or whether she has had dealings with them before…’ Esme trailed off at the serious expressions on the other two faces. ‘What?’
‘That’s for the Book Keeper. We can’t go rummaging through the files.’
‘But he’s recovering.’
Tobias shook his head gently. ‘Then we must wait.’
The cursed book was wrapped in tissue and inside a fire-safe metal box. Esme looked at the box with distrust as if it might burst into flames at any moment. Hammer had delivered the box at her request and had been unhappily tight-lipped. ‘Shouldn’t be your problem,’ he said. And, not for the first time, offered to go out in a boat and drop the thing out at sea.
‘Question is,’ Esme said, ignoring Hammer’s expression. ‘Was this sent to kill Luke or did they not know about the danger it posed?’
Hammer grunted.
‘Maybe they didn’t know about it? They might have had a lucky escape. We’ve got to consider the possibility that it was entirely accidental. Or, they knew it was cursed, but Alvis often got things like this and knew how to handle them, so they sent it to her for safekeeping… No. That doesn’t make sense. If they had known, it would have been labelled as dangerous.’
Hammer grunted again.
‘But why would they want to hurt Luke? They don’t know him.’ She shot a warning glance at Hammer. ‘Don’t grunt. I’m asking for your opinion.’
Hammer scowled. ‘Maybe they do know him.’
‘Are you trying to be funny, because he was really hurt. It was serious. We don’t even know if there will be after effects. He ought to go to hospital to get properly checked out…’
‘I’m not being flippant,’ Hammer broke in. ‘What if whoever sent the book knew Luke would open it? And knows Luke from his previous life.’ He held up his hands. ‘How much do we know about Luke Taylor? I mean, really?’
‘We’ve all got pasts,’ Esme said defensively.
‘I know,’ Hammer said, gently enough. ‘I’m just saying.’