Page 35 of Grimoires & Glamoury

“I’d believe her.” I chuckled. “She loves a good spicy romance.”

“Thanks,” the customer said. Taking her bag, she left with a smile.

The bells over the door rang as they opened and I glanced up. “Good afternoon,” I said, and my friendly smile faded.

Because to my complete surprise, Charles Montgomery strolled right into my bookstore holding hands with Chloe. Today he wore dress slacks with his pale blue button-down shirt tucked in. Chloe had her hair in a ponytail and wore a lilac-colored dress and pink sneakers. They looked adorable together.

Hang on... my inner monologue questioned. Did I just refer to Charles Montgomery as adorable?

Obviously, I was suffering more from sleep deprivation than I’d thought.

“Lorna.” He nodded politely. “Chloe and I are here for some new storybooks.”

“Hello, Chloe,” I said to the child, who was looking at everything with very wide eyes.

“Daddy there are stars on the ceiling,” she whispered.

Pointing up toward the constellations painted on the bookstore’s ceiling, I asked, “Do you like them?”

“The lights are stars too.” Chloe grinned up at the dangling golden pendant lighting. “They’re pretty.”

“The children’s books are this way,” I said and gestured for them to follow me. We’d gone maybe five steps when Kathleen popped up and offered to take Chloe to the children’s section.

Once we were alone, Charles angled his body closer to mine. “My Supe contact in real estate that I mentioned last night?”

“Yes?”

“They told me that there had been rumblings throughout the wider community.” He spoke carefully to avoid using the word ‘Vampire’ in public. “And that there has been an issue in the Birmingham area.”

“What sort of issue?”

Charles moved a tad closer. “Regional skirmish.”

He was close enough to me now that I caught a whiff of his aftershave. He smells amazing and looks like a walking advertisement for a ‘hot daddy,’ I thought, as I stared up into his face.

“Lorna?” Charles asked. “Are you okay?”

Damn it! I swore at myself and my wandering random lusty thoughts. With everything that was going on, distracted was not a good thing for a Witch of my standing to be. Wisely I took a step back, putting some space between us before I spoke.

“When you say ‘regional skirmish,’ you mean as in no one notified the other party before moving through their…” I paused, searching for the proper word, “Territory?”

“Correct,” he said softly.

Before I could respond, a shopper wandered closer to us, and Charles completely changed the volume and tone of his voice to ask me if we carried a popular new bestseller.

“Right this way.” I smiled and gestured for him to follow me. Together we moved over toward one of my central tables that held a display of new releases. Even as we spoke casually about the book and its reviews, my mind was racing.

As the Magistra, someone should have reached out to me if there was a problem within the Supernatural community. True I didn’t deal with Lycans or Vampires very often, but we got along fairly well, simply because we gave each other plenty of space and respect.

The bells over the front door jingled again, and I glanced over and froze—in the way animals do when they sense a predator nearby. I managed to hold my composure, only because showing any sort of weakness or fear at that moment would be very, very foolish.

The female who entered my bookstore in broad daylight was clearly a Supe. And as she cleared the threshold, she snapped her black umbrella closed. She was dressed in a way I could only think of as Boho Goth. She wore dark round sunglasses, a loose black maxi dress and a deep green silk shawl that was draped over her shoulders.

Her brown hair was glossy and brushed her shoulders in beautifully styled waves. With a leisurely hand, she lifted her sunglasses and tucked them on top of her hair. Turning her head to survey the store, she focused on me and gave me the slightest of smiles. She walked directly over to me, and her heavy ankle boots were silent against the hardwood floors.

Definitely a Vampire, I decided.

Reaching into the pocket of her dress, she pulled out a small scarlet-colored envelope. In a split second I knew this was no greeting card. As she extended her hand to me, I spotted the family crest of the Olarescu House embossed upon it.