The City of Crows by Bethany Lovejoy (novels in english .txt) 📗

Her big, blue eyes bubbled over when the book was placed in front of her, body immediately turning to the young man to wrap her arms around him as she murmured something. His hand flew to her shoulder and a small, hopefully indectable strangled sound left my body. Able sold rare books, I imagined that she couldn’t get this cookbook anywhere else. Least of all, Magictown...

I held it in as the bell chimed, the green bag in front of me vanishing with the woman.

“Her mother had the same cookbook,” the man’s voice informed me, “she’s been looking for it for years.”

“Extraordinarily rare books,” I said with a strangled voice, “that’s what we advertise.”

“And other things,” he added, obviously haven taken time to study our ad. “Guess you can’t stock human decency though, can you?” He asked.

A heavy breath left me, my shoulders falling.

“Sorry, that was sort of a low blow, wasn’t it?” I could feel his eyes moving across my skin, “What’s your name? Just so I know, not to tell anyone. I’m planning to be around here more often,” He was careful then, his voice far softer. “I’m Leo Hoang,” he said, “an artist, among other things.”

I couldn’t just look away while he was introducing himself, could I? My eyes drifted upwards, wide green meeting probing black. He was handsome, I think that was the worst part. The standards are far different for being handsome up close and handsome far away, but he met both. He had a smooth, clean-shaven face and a rounded jaw; making him appear younger than he really was but not by much. Everything about him, from his thick green sweater to his light blue jeans, from his thumbs tucked into his front pockets to his charming smile; it all made it easy to think that he was a guy who had it together.

“Lyra,” I said hesitantly, “Lyra Wynne.” I’d lied about my name before, especially when asked for it in the shop. But I somehow couldn’t bring myself to lie to him.

“Lyra,” he said, his lips stretching wider. I met his smile, but only for a moment. And then, like a clap of thunder he asked, “and what is a witch doing working in a shop outside of Magictown?”

2

The Last of Nineteen

“Don’t panic.” That was the next thing that came out of his mouth, the first thing that comes out of any man’s mouth when they know that you have fair reason to panic. The world seemed to tilt off its axis with this single statement, and yet his face was unaffected. It was almost as if he didn’t realize the gravity of that word or that he’d said it in a place that was actually important, that with that tiny ‘w’ he could ruin my whole entire life. My eyes flew to the side, anxiously looking around as my ears strained to hear whether Emma had bothered to turn on the radio or if she was listening in. The loud sound of pop music blaring out of a speaker responded to me.

His hand reached forward, fingertips just barely making contact with my skin. I jerked back, returning to reality and the man in front of me. “Don’t touch me,” after panic gave way to anger, I hissed, “and don’t make unfounded accusations like that.”

He withdrew, holding his hands up in the air in a position of mock surrender. I wondered if he noted how my shoulders rose, or the way that my nostrils flared. “I’m sorry, I just--” He stepped towards the counter, his face earnest, “You’re Lyra Wynne, right? You said that.”

As if I didn’t know my own name. I had told him it, hadn’t I? There was no need to repeat it, not when he’d made such a bold statement. Definitely not around these parts.

“What does that have to do with anything!” My voice sounded strained as I threw a wide-eyed stare behind me toward the employee breakroom door. Seeing that he was about to open his mouth and likely use the ‘w’ word once more, I rounded the counter quickly, practically vaulting around the edge before getting in front of him and shooting him a warning look. “My name has nothing to do with you, now if you’ll please leave! The door is right there, your kind isn’t welcome here--”

But the man did not move, nor did he heed my warning glare. He continued speaking with little to no second thought, his voice far too loud. “Your mother is Lydia, right? The dark magic academic. I know it, I have it written down. You’re her daughter, which means you’re--”

My hand shot up to cover his mouth, finally coming to the understanding that this man would not leave. His eyes widened in surprise and I quickly removed my hand from his mouth and instead made a shooshing gesture, my other hand wrapping around his wrist as I began to drag him towards the back corner of the store, a place where Emma rarely went. As I did so, I thanked god that the store was for the most part empty.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” He blinked, following obediently, keeping the same pace so that he was not dragged behind. “The registry said you lived in this neighborhood, I figured you probably worked here too--”

“The registry!” I squawked, fighting to keep my nails from digging into his skin. That god forsaken thing, I’d signed it how many years ago? Foolish, incoming witches signed their names in that book so that the general populace could keep track of their whereabouts. “Listen here, that registry is an abomination, and if you do have a copy then I will do you the kindness of ripping it up. My name shouldn’t even be in there, I had it removed a year ago. The fact that they’re so unkind as to keep it there should make the record keepers ashamed.”

“Well it might have been removed--” He admitted,