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“He stole my fucking book!” Barbary yelled in fury, spittle spraying out and hitting Drummond on the face.
“You just stole Cassie’s book,” Drummond observed. “You don’t exactly have the moral high ground, Hugo.”
Barbary removed the Book of Doors from his pocket and inspected it. “Ah yes, the Book of Doors.” He flicked through the pages. “What fun I could have with this. It’s not a spectacular-looking thing, is it?” He studied the cover of the book. “Pretty ordinary. But a fabulous prize.”
Drummond moved suddenly, aiming to grab an arm or Barbary’s neck, but the man was expecting it. Barbary jerked his hand and Drummond’s arm froze in midair, meeting resistance as firm as a wall.
“There’s no point,” Barbary said, his tone almost sympathetic. “I anticipate anything you might do. But you do remind me that you are carrying your own books, aren’t you?”
Barbary flicked his hand twice and both of Drummond’s arms were pulled out to his sides, a mockery of a crucifixion. Barbary pushed him through the air into the living area and positioned him so that he was hanging in front of the window.
“Isn’t it awful,” Barbary said then, gesturing at the living area and kitchen behind him. “It’s like some fucking depressing modernist play from the 1990s. Do people actually live like this?”
Barbary didn’t wait for an answer. He placed the Book of Doors on the floor and then reached into Drummond’s inside pockets, his big hand scampering like a spider until he found and removed the Book of Memories.
“Very nice,” he said, inspecting the book. “This is the Book of Memories, I assume.” Drummond didn’t respond. Barbary gripped the book by the back cover and let the pages spill open so he could inspect them. “Very nice.” He put the book on the floor and reached into Drummond’s pockets again, more spidery fingers, and removed the Book of Luck and the Book of Shadows. “Lovely,” he said, admiring the golden cover of the Book of Luck. “What is this one?”
Drummond refused to answer, staring over Barbary’s head. Barbary shrugged. “No matter. Time will tell.” He placed the two books on the floor with the Book of Memories and the Book of Doors. Down by his side his Book of Control continued to pulse with color.
“Quite the treasure trove,” he said. “Maybe I could start building myown collection to rival the woman’s? What do you think, Drummond? Which monster would you prefer? Me or her?”
“Oh, you, absolutely,” Drummond said.
Barbary tilted his head, interested. “And why is that?”
“Because she’s terrifying, and you’re a fool. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over you, Hugo.”
Barbary cackled as if this was a fabulous answer. “Well, let’s see if we can do something about that, shall we?” He looked at Drummond, as if actually trying to decide which torture to inflict upon him. “It’s such a shame that some gorilla of a man stole my Book of Pain. I would have enjoyed making you tell me all your secrets.” He sucked his teeth for a moment as he considered his options. “Maybe I can still have some fun without the book... maybe I can make you talk the old-fashioned way. What do you think? How would you feel about some light torture?”
Barbary’s thoughts were interrupted by a single chiming noise from his pocket. He removed his phone and studied it for a moment.
“That bitch,” he muttered.
“What?” Drummond asked.
“That fucking Black, bald bitch.”
“The Bookseller?” Drummond asked.
“She’s selling my book,” Barbary said. “That Jap and his ape must have been working for her.”
Barbary stood for a moment, hands on his hips and his eyes off to the side of Drummond, as if he was making plans or working out how to respond.
“Well, I’ll have to kill her,” he said, like this was the self-evident conclusion.
“The Bookseller?” Drummond asked again, his eyebrows raising skeptically.
“Her, and any other fucker that tries to take my books. I still have the Book of Control,” he said, lifting the glowing, pulsing book he held by his side. “Shouldn’t be hard.”
“She doesn’t allow books into the auctions,” Drummond said. “You know that.”
“No, I don’t know that,” Barbary muttered. “I’ve never been to oneof her auctions. But that just makes it easier. No books, nobody else has an advantage. I’ll just shoot them all instead.” He flipped back his overcoat to reveal the gun on his hip. “Maybe I’ll shoot you first just to shut you up.”
Drummond tried to shrug where he hung in the air. He really didn’t care anymore. It was interesting how little room he had for fear when his body was full of exhaustion. “Get on with it then, man, please, for the love of god.”
Drummond heard a noise then, the scrape of a key, the front door opening. Barbary heard it a moment later and turned to face the hall just as a woman stepped into the living area.
Not just a woman—this was Cassie.
