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“I told you,” Izzy muttered to Cassie. “I told you it wasn’t safe.”
“This place is lovely...” Drummond said, gesturing at the seats around them. “But we have to go somewhere else to talk. Somewhere people won’t find you. Just for a while until I can tell you what you need to know. It’s not safe here.”
They stared at him silently, neither of them moving. Cassie met his dark eyes and saw a plea there, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond.
“You don’t trust me,” he concluded.
“You think?” Izzy said.
“We’ve just met you,” Cassie elaborated.
Drummond seemed to think about things for a moment. “I understand,” he said. “Like I said, it is good that you are cautious. But I need you to trust me, for your own sake. As an act of faith let me show you, I have a book too.” He withdrew a small book, about the size of a notebook, about the size of the Book of Doors, but the cover and the edges of its pages were golden, like it was layered with gold leaf. “This is my book,” Drummond said, holding the volume carefully. “This is the Book of Luck. If I have it on me, I will always be lucky. It is why I found you, because it was lucky for both of us.”
Cassie and Izzy both gazed at the book. It was a beautiful thing, more so even than the Book of Doors. Cassie wanted to ask questions. She wanted to take the Book of Luck and open it to see what was written inside, what images were drawn there. She wanted to know what it could do and where it had come from, whether it too would produce a halo of fabulous colors in the air. And she wanted to know more about this mysterious man, with his Scottish accent and dark eyes. But before she could do or say anything the door to the street opened at the far end of the deli and all three of them looked in that direction as a man entered. He was a tall, bald man with round glasses and a leather bag in his hand. He was dressed in a three-piece suit beneath a long raincoat.
“Shit,” Drummond muttered, returning the Book of Luck to his pocket.
“I’ll take that,” the bald man said, his voice booming from his chest as he sauntered toward them.
Drummond stood up slowly, pushing his chair back and taking a few steps toward the newcomer. “You’ve been following me, Hugo.”
“Of course,” the man said. He placed his bag on the floor at his feet and slipped one hand into the pocket of his overcoat. “I told you I would. And now I want your books.”
“Who’s that?” Izzy asked, and the man flicked his eyes to her.
“Dr. Hugo Barbary,” the man said, nodding his head slightly. “Delighted to make your acquaintance. Who are your friends, Drummond?”
“Nobody,” Drummond said. “I was lost and asking for directions. Not from around these parts, am I?”
The man smiled, enjoying the answer. “Give me the book that you just put back in your pocket, and any others you have, and I won’t kill them.”
Cassie felt her stomach drop, and Izzy gasped and looked at her in shock.
The server appeared behind Barbary with Izzy’s food in his hand. “Hey, excuse me, bro,” he said, trying to pass him.
“Fuck off,” Barbary said, without turning his head.
“Hey,” the server barked in protest. Before he could finish the thought Barbary snapped his arm up, like he had just touched something unexpectedly hot, and the man was thrown backward through the air as if he had been hit by a truck, clattering to the floor and sending Izzy’s food skittering into the corner. As the server landed, Barbary withdrew the hand that was in his pocket, and Cassie saw that he was holding a book. As he moved his hand a trail of purples and reds followed it through the air.
“Look!” Izzy said. “He’s doing that thing!”
There was a reaction behind the counter to the commotion, the other staff hurrying to their colleague’s aid, but before they got far Dr. Barbary jerked his free hand again, his face a grimace of annoyance, and both men shot upward and crashed into the ceiling. They dropped back to the floor, ceiling tiles and dust following them. Dr. Barbary walked back to the front of the deli, rainbow colors trailing after the book in his hand like a ribbon in the air, and casually locked the door. He turned the Open sign to Closed and both Cassie and Izzy jumped up from their seats. There were people on the street, walking past ineither direction, but nobody was paying attention to what was going on inside Ben’s Deli.
“If your book is what I think it is,” Drummond said, turning his head to speak to Cassie over his shoulder, “now is the time to use it. Please. Your life is in danger.”
His eyes begged her to act. She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest, her eyes flicking to the bald man as he walked back toward them. He swung his hand sideways through the air and one of the tables flew up and smashed against the wall, the rainbow colors by his other hand pulsing angrily.
“Give me your fucking books!” he shouted, his face a knot of fury, his voice making Cassie flinch.
He swiped his hand again and all of the remaining tables and chairs slid suddenly and crashed against the right-hand wall, like furniture on a ship in rough seas.
“There’s nowhere to go,” Barbary said. He flicked his wrist and the server who had been carrying Izzy’s food jerked three feet into the air and then slammed down onto the floor again with a groan. Barbary casually kicked his head, not even looking down as his foot connected with a wet crunch.
“Jesus!” Izzy yelped.
“Time to go,” Drummond said. “Please!”
“Where are you going to go, Drummond?” Barbary asked.
