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The Bookseller stared at her for a moment, then laughed in disbelief. She folded her arms across her chest. “You have some balls, girl, I will give you that. You want to stop her? You and your Book of Doors?”
“I don’t just have the Book of Doors,” Cassie said. “And it’s not just me. But there are some things I don’t have that you can provide me.”
“What would that be?”
“I need another auction. I need to get her attention. She came the last time you had an auction. Have you wondered how she knew?”
The Bookseller shrugged. “It’s not exactly a secret. I send a notification to everyone. The more people who know, the more come.”
“She didn’t strike me as the type of woman with lots of friends.”
“Mmm, well. She’s probably taken phones from some of the people she’s killed. She would have gotten the notification from those phones when we sent it out.”
“So she’ll get a notification again, if you have another auction. Particularly if she wants the books.”
“What books?” the Bookseller asked, and despite everything she had said, Cassie saw a spark of interest there.
“The Fox Library,” Cassie said, and the Bookseller’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“You found it?”
“I know where it is,” Cassie said.
“And you’re going to use that as bait? Are you out of your tiny white head? You’re going to give her the opportunity to add that to her collection?”
“I need to be sure she will come,” Cassie said. “It’s the biggest prize.”
The Bookseller shook her head. “You’re putting me off my beignets.”
“You don’t need to be there,” Cassie said. “You just need to set the time and the place and send the notification when I tell you. We’ll do the rest.”
“We?” the Bookseller asked. “Who’s in your gang? Your friend Izzy, who would talk the handles off a door? Or the big man? Or Drummond Fox, who would run away from his own reflection?”
“You think the worst of people,” Cassie said.
“I’ve had a lot of experience of people letting me down,” the Bookseller said.
“You seem much more... brittle than the last time we spoke,” Cassie observed.
“Brittle,” the Bookseller said. Then she smiled a tight smile. “Nobody’s ever accused me of that before.”
“You help me out, I’ll give you back the Book of Safety. You have my word.”
“Oh well, if you give me your word...”
Cassie ate her second beignet, taking a moment to enjoy the surroundings. There were a few other people at the café: a middle-aged couple who looked like tourists, a couple of young women who looked worse for wear, like they were trying to ward off a hangover with coffee and sugar. The waitresses stood at the counter, speaking to each other in low voices.
“Okay,” the Bookseller said, finally. “When do you want to do this nonsense? And where?”
“Don’t know when yet,” Cassie admitted. “But I know where. I want to do it the same place you did the last one.”
“My hotel?” the Bookseller asked. “In New York?”
“Why not?” Cassie said. “It’s a hotel. It’s got lots of doors.”
The Plan, Part Five (1)
In a forgotten place in New York City, Cassie waited for the woman.
