Cold Burn of Magic
Page 50
“What am I supposed to say? I follow the guy around all day long. Trust me. He’s not that interesting.”
Yeah, I was totally lying, but I didn’t know how I felt about Devon. I didn’t childishly hate or automatically blame him for causing my mom’s murder. Not anymore. Not since that night on the rooftop when I’d seen how much her death and the murders of Ashley and all his other bodyguards weighed on him.
“Have you heard anything else about the attack here?” I asked, changing the subject. “Who was behind it and why?”
Mo shook his head. “Nope. Not a peep from anyone. And you would think by now that someone would have spilled their guts about something. It’s hard to keep a secret in this town, especially where the Families are concerned.”
“But what about the dead guys? I recognized them. They worked for the accountant I swiped that ruby necklace from, the one you said was mobbed up.”
“Nothing on them, either,” Mo replied. “Besides, they’re dead, so what does it matter?”
I told him my theory that maybe the dead guys had been working for the same Family the accountant did. Mo didn’t know who the accountant worked for, but he promised to find out.
I started to ask him some more questions, but Mo distracted me by talking about some of the items that people had brought into the pawnshop over the past few days, everything from an oversize rubber bath duck to a fountain pen that only wrote with invisible ink to a superhero action figure that was in mint condition.
His quick, excited words washed over me, and I found myself relaxing. Mo was like Felix—once he got wound up, it was hard to get a word in edgewise. It made me smile because it was a typical day at the Razzle Dazzle. But it made me a little melancholy, too. Because it wasn’t a typical day, not really, not with me having to report back to the Sinclair mansion tonight or risk Claudia sending the guards out to hunt me down. No, things weren’t the same, and they never would be again.
I was surprised by how sad that made me.
Mo ran out of steam about the new items in the shop, although he gave me a thoughtful look. “Now that you’re all moved in at the mansion, what are you going to do with the rest of your stuff?”
“You mean what’s left in the library?”
He nodded.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll go get it at some point, I guess.”
“Well, you better do that soon. Isn’t it about time for the summer sale?”
I groaned. With everything that had been going on, I’d forgotten all about the sale the library sponsored at the beginning of every summer to clean out the old, used books and earn a little money to buy shiny new titles. But the date was circled in red on the cheap calendar by my cot because it was one of the few weeks of the year when I had to crash at Mo’s. During the sale, the librarians actually came down into the basement to sort through and clean out everything. I had to hide my stuff as far back in the basement as it would go, stack boxes of books in front of it, and hope my things would be left alone until after the sale. Then, when it was over, I could put everything back the way it was. At least until the next sale.
Mo had already brought my most treasured items to the mansion, but there were some things in the library I still wanted. Extra clothes, extra weapons, a few more knickknacks.
“What’s the date of the sale?”
Mo pulled out his phone and surfed the library’s website. “Let’s see. According to the calendar, it looks like they start going through stuff tomorrow. The sale starts three days after that.”
I groaned again. That meant I needed to get my things tonight or risk losing them. No doubt the librarians would wonder exactly why they hadn’t noticed the cot, the mini-fridge, and the rest of my stuff before. I’d be lucky if they only added it to the sale, instead of calling the cops to complain about someone squatting in the library. I didn’t think anything there could be traced back to me, but it was better not to take the chance.
“I need to go then,” I said. “And salvage what I can.”
“You want me to come with you, kid? Give you a hand?”
The lochness bones over the front door rattled, cutting me off. Three women wearing shorts, pink baseball hats, and matching T-shirts entered the shop. Mo perked up. Only the rubes from the tour groups wore matching T-shirts.
Still, Mo looked at the customers, then back at me, clearly torn between helping me out and making some money, but I didn’t blame him for it. He’d taught me to be the exact same way, and I would have already called out a greeting to the shoppers, if our positions had been reversed.
“I can close the shop early and come help you,” he said, his black eyes locked onto the three women, who’d started browsing. “Just say the word.”
“Nah. You’ve got sales to make. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” he murmured, finally dragging his gaze back to me.
“I’m sure.”
“Just be careful, okay, kid?” Mo said. “The Families aren’t the only bad things roaming the streets.”
His concern touched me, enough that I leaned across the counter and gave him that hug after all. His arms came around me, and his scent filled my nose, a faint, citrusy smell almost like lemon cleaner. It made me remember all the time I’d spent in the shop. All the summer mornings watching him wipe down the glass cases, ruthlessly eradicating the streaks and specks of dust so customers could have a clear, sparkling view of the goods inside. All the afternoons haggling with him about how much he was going to pay me for a watch I’d swiped. All the late nights eating takeout burgers and plotting my next job. My heart squeezed tight again, and I had to clear my throat before I could speak.
Yeah, I was totally lying, but I didn’t know how I felt about Devon. I didn’t childishly hate or automatically blame him for causing my mom’s murder. Not anymore. Not since that night on the rooftop when I’d seen how much her death and the murders of Ashley and all his other bodyguards weighed on him.
“Have you heard anything else about the attack here?” I asked, changing the subject. “Who was behind it and why?”
Mo shook his head. “Nope. Not a peep from anyone. And you would think by now that someone would have spilled their guts about something. It’s hard to keep a secret in this town, especially where the Families are concerned.”
“But what about the dead guys? I recognized them. They worked for the accountant I swiped that ruby necklace from, the one you said was mobbed up.”
“Nothing on them, either,” Mo replied. “Besides, they’re dead, so what does it matter?”
I told him my theory that maybe the dead guys had been working for the same Family the accountant did. Mo didn’t know who the accountant worked for, but he promised to find out.
I started to ask him some more questions, but Mo distracted me by talking about some of the items that people had brought into the pawnshop over the past few days, everything from an oversize rubber bath duck to a fountain pen that only wrote with invisible ink to a superhero action figure that was in mint condition.
His quick, excited words washed over me, and I found myself relaxing. Mo was like Felix—once he got wound up, it was hard to get a word in edgewise. It made me smile because it was a typical day at the Razzle Dazzle. But it made me a little melancholy, too. Because it wasn’t a typical day, not really, not with me having to report back to the Sinclair mansion tonight or risk Claudia sending the guards out to hunt me down. No, things weren’t the same, and they never would be again.
I was surprised by how sad that made me.
Mo ran out of steam about the new items in the shop, although he gave me a thoughtful look. “Now that you’re all moved in at the mansion, what are you going to do with the rest of your stuff?”
“You mean what’s left in the library?”
He nodded.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll go get it at some point, I guess.”
“Well, you better do that soon. Isn’t it about time for the summer sale?”
I groaned. With everything that had been going on, I’d forgotten all about the sale the library sponsored at the beginning of every summer to clean out the old, used books and earn a little money to buy shiny new titles. But the date was circled in red on the cheap calendar by my cot because it was one of the few weeks of the year when I had to crash at Mo’s. During the sale, the librarians actually came down into the basement to sort through and clean out everything. I had to hide my stuff as far back in the basement as it would go, stack boxes of books in front of it, and hope my things would be left alone until after the sale. Then, when it was over, I could put everything back the way it was. At least until the next sale.
Mo had already brought my most treasured items to the mansion, but there were some things in the library I still wanted. Extra clothes, extra weapons, a few more knickknacks.
“What’s the date of the sale?”
Mo pulled out his phone and surfed the library’s website. “Let’s see. According to the calendar, it looks like they start going through stuff tomorrow. The sale starts three days after that.”
I groaned again. That meant I needed to get my things tonight or risk losing them. No doubt the librarians would wonder exactly why they hadn’t noticed the cot, the mini-fridge, and the rest of my stuff before. I’d be lucky if they only added it to the sale, instead of calling the cops to complain about someone squatting in the library. I didn’t think anything there could be traced back to me, but it was better not to take the chance.
“I need to go then,” I said. “And salvage what I can.”
“You want me to come with you, kid? Give you a hand?”
The lochness bones over the front door rattled, cutting me off. Three women wearing shorts, pink baseball hats, and matching T-shirts entered the shop. Mo perked up. Only the rubes from the tour groups wore matching T-shirts.
Still, Mo looked at the customers, then back at me, clearly torn between helping me out and making some money, but I didn’t blame him for it. He’d taught me to be the exact same way, and I would have already called out a greeting to the shoppers, if our positions had been reversed.
“I can close the shop early and come help you,” he said, his black eyes locked onto the three women, who’d started browsing. “Just say the word.”
“Nah. You’ve got sales to make. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” he murmured, finally dragging his gaze back to me.
“I’m sure.”
“Just be careful, okay, kid?” Mo said. “The Families aren’t the only bad things roaming the streets.”
His concern touched me, enough that I leaned across the counter and gave him that hug after all. His arms came around me, and his scent filled my nose, a faint, citrusy smell almost like lemon cleaner. It made me remember all the time I’d spent in the shop. All the summer mornings watching him wipe down the glass cases, ruthlessly eradicating the streaks and specks of dust so customers could have a clear, sparkling view of the goods inside. All the afternoons haggling with him about how much he was going to pay me for a watch I’d swiped. All the late nights eating takeout burgers and plotting my next job. My heart squeezed tight again, and I had to clear my throat before I could speak.
