Page 57 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
“Fine. You were partially correct about your earlier assumptions. A guy at the dining hall told me about the club, and when we went, it was only my second time visiting. Does that make you feel better?”
“It does,” I say, pretending to believe him. “I like knowing I had youallfigured out from day one.”
And I did, in so many ways. I knewsomethingwas off about him when we met, and the night at the club is proof enough for me, even if it’s not for Margaux. Caldwell doesn’t know how right I was, but soon he will.
We arrive at the bookshop, and he holds the door open, letting me step inside first.
My eyes wander around the place. “Why haven’t I been here before?”
There are a few places in Castine I haven’t already visited, and this tiny shop is one of them. I don’t think I’ve everseenit.
It’s a dimly lit space, tidy but cluttered. The books on the shelves aren’t new—many look like they’re from another era entirely. A black cat wanders through the space, rubbing against Caldwell as if he’s an old friend.
I bend down to pet the creature. A small smile dances on my lips. They remind me of my cat, and I can’t help but be fond.
“The shop is charmed,” he says. “Those unaffiliated with the paranormal can’t find it.” He watches me with a long, steady gaze.
For the first time, I feel like someone can see through my act.
“That doesn’t explain anything. I should have been able to find it.” I laugh nervously, paying attention to the cat rather than meeting his penetrating stare.
“Perhaps you don’t pay enough attention. Though Petunia has certainly caughtyour attention.”
“Is that her name?” I would rather sit with Petunia all night, but I straighten up, smiling at Caldwell.
“It is,” he says. “She’s the guardian of the shop. She was my mother’s familiar.”
My heart sinks. Petunia is a familiar who lost her witch. I’ve never thought about how tragic that would be.
Wait. Do vampires have familiars?
“And what is this place, exactly?” I ask.
It must be more than a bookshop. Otherwise, why is it so well protected?
“It’s a vintage bookstore.”
“Is that all?”
He shrugs. “No. That’s the cover, so to speak. It’s an apothecary and a safe space for witches to hide away. This place was my mother’s pride and joy.”
My lips pop open, with no sound coming out for several seconds. “Witches?”
“Yes.” Our hands tangle again as he leads me to the next room. This one is full of cauldrons and herbs. The scent of rosemary wafts to my nose. “My mother was a witch.”
I freeze. “What?”
Caldwell looks as confused as I feel. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head.
I assumed Caldwell was a vampire the first day we met, but… I never found any proof. Caldwell being anything but a vampire never crossed my mind. Why had I been so certain, and what does the truth change? It renders the stake at my thigh useless.
What else have I been wrong about?
I swallow. My throat is suddenly dry as a bone.
“I thought you were a vampire,” I say in a small voice.
