Page 16 of The Lost Empress

I’m starting to understand why my family finds hippies annoying, Gen responded, looking around at all the figures who were around her, but none of them paying her much notice, as if she were a ghost.

Just then, as if cued by her thoughts, an actual ghost floated out from between a row of shelves on the far right, next to the window where the woman was curled up on the floor. Although the ghost was opaque, Gen could tell it was a man with dark hair, wearing a suit jacket. In his hand, he held an actual book, which was weird, since Gen didn’t think ghosts could carry things. Hell, not until that moment, had she actually ever seen a real ghost, only having heard and read stories about them.

“Why is it that someone keeps putting the psychology books in the self-help sections?” the ghost asked, in a haunting voice.

Walter pointed at the hippie woman. “That’s Summer.”

“Everything is actually self-help when you think about it,” the hippie replied, twirling one of her dreads around her finger.

You called it, Gen said to Emperor in her head.

I told you, he replied.

The ghost glared at Summer. “Stop shelving books. I told you that I’d do it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why don’t you move on to the other realm and let me do my job since I’m alive and well!”

Walter sighed as a man wearing a casual uniform breezed into the shop, walking straight by Gen, who remained invisible to all the people in the bookshop. “Here’s today’s mail.” He slid a tidy stack of envelopes onto the counter, next to the cup of steaming hot soup. Then he looked around at the many faces regarding him with indifference. “Are you all bickering, again?”

“It’s not bickering,” Summer argued. “It’s healthy communication.”

“It’s bickering,” the woman on the floor muttered dryly, pointing to the soup with steam issuing up. “And Walter, your soup is going to get cold.”

“Let it,” Walter muttered, turning and appraising the bank of windows on the left side of the building, behind the counter and cash register area. “I need to take measurements for the security bars.”

“Well, hopefully you don’t mind if Fran eats your soup,” the guy Gen guessed was a postal worker said.

Everyone shot their gazes to the counter, where an orange tabby cat was sitting in front of the cup of steamy soup and sniffing it with a strange expression on its face.

“Oh, shoo, you little beast,” Walter said, waving the cat away from the food. “I do plan on eating it. If JoAnne made it, I’ll have it. Just give me a minute.”

“Well, maybe while you’re waiting, you or Summer can help the only actual customer you have in here,” the postal man said, thumbing in Gen’s direction.

Like she had just materialized for all to see, everyone’s attention swiveled straight to her.

“Oh, hey!” Summer bounded forward, a lazy grin on her face. “Can I help you find something? I actually work here.” She glared over her shoulder at the ghost still hovering by the front of the bookshelves. “And I’m not dead.”

“Right,” Gen said, straightening, wondering what event was about to befall this place, predicted by Emperor. “I’m looking for books on moral philosophy.” She pulled out the list of required reading that Dwayne Stone had issued her. “I’m looking for quite a few volumes.”

The hipster slid in front of Summer, cutting her off. His strange handlebar mustache twitched when he smiled. “Philosophy is my specialty. Why don’t I show you where to find what you’re looking for?”

Summer balled up her fists and huffed loudly. “Boon, you don’t even work here. Why will no one let me do my job?”

“As far as I’m concerned, none of you actually do any work in my bookshop,” Walter said, sighing loudly and moving behind the counter.

Gen had so many questions about this place and these people, but also had a feeling that the mystery was just unraveling.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE GHOST’S GRIEVANCE, THE WIDOWER’S WOES

Spellbound Pages Bookshop, Downtown Los Angeles, California, United States

“Where are you taking college classes that you’ve been assigned so many books to read?” the guy who Gen supposed was named Boon asked.

She groaned. “Apparently, the school of good and evil taught by the devil himself.”

“I don’t know, you are pretty lucky in my book,” Boon said, his eyes wide with excitement. “This looks like an ultra-violet paradise for me. Can I be your study partner?”

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