Like hell if she was touching the book with her bare hands again. Carefully picking up the hefty book with the napkins, she went into the back room that was separate from the public and shut the door behind her, placing the book on the table that ran down the center.
Scrambling for her phone in her coat pocket, she pulled it out to text her twin sister, Sidney.
Sid, check this thing out.
She snapped a photo of the book and sent it over to her.
Some crazy dude just dropped this on my desk. Can’t figure out what it is. Usually being a librarian is boring, lol.
Usually Sid responded within seconds, unless she was in some bigimportant meeting with some muckity-muck from some big company or a politician.
The difference between Sidney and Sasha was that Sidney couldpeoplewhile Sasha struggled to make friends. So, Sasha shared an apartment with three roommates in Somerville, while Sidney had a studio to herself in Manhattan.
Sidney was living proof that the phrase “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” held true more often than not. Not that Sidney didn’t deserve to be successful—she was a brilliant marketing strategist and was sought after for a reason. It was just that…sometimes, stairs were easier to climb for some people than others, and that was just the sad fact of the matter. But that was neither here nor there at the moment.
Staring down at the book, she thought through her options.
She knew she should call Rare and have them come collect the antique book that the guy who was cracked out of his gourd had obviously stolen from them. But what if it was a prop? Just some really good-looking fake. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she sighed.
“All right, then. I suppose I should just…get on with it, then. Open you up and see what’s inside.” Reaching out, she went to open the latch.
Her phone rang.
Jolting in shock, she swore.
Looking down at her phone, she saw the image of Sidney staring back at her. It was a goofy photo of her sister that she’d taken the last time they’d been together. They’d gone to some janky carnival up north of Boston. She couldn’t remember what the name of it was—every time she tried to look it up, the name of the Faire escaped her. But Sidney wasterrifiedof anything spooky, where Sasha just ate it up.
Same face. Different souls.
Picking up the phone, she put it on speaker and put it back down on the table next to the book. “Hey Sid, what’s up, not like you to call when you can?—”
“Where are you?” Sidney sounded worried. Panicked almost.
Sasha frowned. “Work. Safe.”
“I…I swear somebody’s following me.”
“Have you called the cops?” Threading her hand into her hair, she fisted the strands, pulling them tight. “Sid, you shouldn’t be on the phone with me, I can’t help you from here.”
“I know, but when you told me about the guy, and the book—” Sid’s voice was strained. “I—I think I saw the same guy.”
“Where are you?”
“Manhattan. Work trip.”
“Hon, that’s not possible. I’m in Boston. He was in the BPL.” There was an off-chance, maybe—the two cities weren’t that far apart. Four hours? Tops? A person could drive that. Take a plane,maybe?A private jet, sure. But the odds were extremely slim, having seen the guy.
“The book. The book you have. I—this dude I saw. He walked up to me, and—hold on.”
Her phone buzzed as she got a text from Sid. Swiping over, she blinked. It was a photo of a large, antique book, hastily taken. The book was on a park bench. It looked exactly like the one she had, but the inverse.
Where the book that Sasha had was black and the V strangely dusted in purple, Sidney’s was backwards. The leather was an ashen white. The purple was instead a strange yellowish-green tone. And where the V on her book was odd and unsettling, the V on Sidney’s book was bold and almost…proud was the only word to describe it.
Sasha felt cold. This was too weird. Too weird for words. She wanted all her life for something interesting to happen to her—but she wasn’t so sure about it now.
Especially if it involved getting Sidney into the mix. “Describe the guy.”
“Uh—I don’t know, mid forties? Dark hair. Looked—looked hurt. Like he’d been in an accident. Dark eyes. White guy. Square jaw.”
