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The King section took up two eight-foot-long shelves, and the books weren't alphabetized. As I skimmed the titles, I glanced at my watch.
"We can skip this," Jaime said. "No biggie."
"Another minute or two won't matter. Oh, I forgot to call Lucas. He can help."
"Why don't I just grab something else."
As if one cue, a book tumbled from the top shelf and landed between us. Jaime picked it up.
"Salem's Lot." She shook her head. "Not one of my faves. You ever read it?"
"I started to, because I thought it was about witches. When I found out it was vampires, I stopped. Not keen on the vamps myself."
"Who is? Damned parasites." Jaime stood on tiptoes to put the book back. The moment she released it, it jolted out and fell to the floor.
"I think it's lonely," I said with a laugh. "Looks like it's gathering some dust up there."
Again, Jaime put the book back. This time, before she could let go, the book slammed into her palm hard enough to make her yelp. Then it tumbled to the floor.
"Maybe there's some kind of catch up there," I said. "Here, I'll find a new place for it."
As I bent for the book, it spun out of my reach. Jaime grabbed my arm.
"Let's go," she said.
A book flew from the shelf, hitting her side. Another book sailed from a lower shelf, then another and another, pelting Jaime. She doubled over, arms wrapped over her head.
"Leave me alone!" she said. "Damn you--"
I grabbed her arm and propelled her out from the hailstorm of books. As we moved, I looked down at the novels strewn across the aisle. They were all copies of Salem's Lot.
The moment we were out of the Stephen King section, the books stopped flying. I speed-dialed Lucas and told him to meet us at the door.
"Ghost?" I whispered to Jaime as I hung up.
She nodded, gaze tripping from side to side, as if ready to duck.
"I think it's over," I murmured. "But we'd better scram, before someone notices the mess."
Again, Jaime only nodded. I rounded a corner, and looked down the unfamiliar aisle.
"Classics," I said. "Wrong turn. Let's back up--"
A book shot straight out from the shelf and clipped Jaime in the ear. More flew out, pummeling her from all sides. I shoved her out of the way, catching a few books myself, each striking harder than one would think possible for a slender paperback. One hit me in the knee. As I pitched forward, the book flopped to the floor. The Iliad...the same as every other book flying from the shelves.
I righted myself and kept propelling Jaime forward until we reached the front door. Lucas took one look at my expression and hurried over.
"What happened?" he whispered.
I motioned that we'd tell him outside.
On the way to the car, I told Lucas what had happened. Jaime stayed silent. Strangely silent, not chiming in with so much as an "uh-huh."
"Seems the bookstore had a resident ghost," I said. "I've heard of things like that happening. A necromancer is sitting i
n a bar, having a drink, minding his own business, and all of a sudden a spirit realizes there's a necro in the house and goes wild, trying to make contact. Like a shipwreck survivor spotting a rescue boat."
Jaime nodded, but kept her gaze straight forward, walking so fast I could barely keep up.
