Page 50 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“I am noticing a pattern here where I have to ask for your permission a great deal. Is that necessary, or are you a control freak?” I asked, stifling a smile.
“Once again, you are welcome to figure that out for yourself.” He let go, and I missed the pads of his fingers on mine.
Mr. Hawthorne tugged a notebook out from beneath his jacket. He flipped to an open page and handed it to me alongside a pen. “Should anything like this happen again, write down as many details as you can remember.”
While writing about what transpired, I asked, “What more are we looking for?”
“There are countless books on curses.” He flicked his fingers toward the books trailing his steps. “But not as many on Mother Wolf, so I am searching for any demons of similarities.”
He stopped to tug a book from the shelf.
“I never thought there would be anything similar. You said demons are all different, and I skimmed some of these books. There isn’t a single one alike,” I said.
“Not in the ways you may expect, no, but it’s there.” He set the book on the stack then muttered to himself and meandered down another row. “Some are known to travel together, typically weaker ones who need the protection. Mother Wolf isolates herself, as many of the older, more powerful demons do. They’re more difficultto crack, like to hide out in uninhabitable places, and can protect themselves in unimaginable ways.”
“Sounds to me like you know a great deal about them already.”
“I won’t deny that I have dabbled. Demons are fascinating creatures, but I know an expert who can expedite our research.”
“A demonology expert? Why are we here rather than speaking with them?”
“Because Professor Kumir is the best demonologist in her field, and if I dare to approach her without bothering to prepare anything, she will undoubtedly say no,” he replied.
“She sounds pleasant.”
“She is an absolute marvel.” He chuckled, and it sounded genuine as he acquired another book. “This should be enough. Let’s return to Ivory House.” Mr. Hawthorne headed for the staircase. “Is there anything else I need to know about?”
I nearly told him about meeting Rosalind, but bit my tongue. “No.”
We walked in silence, and my attention strayed to the aisles. No dog watched from the shadows, but I kept close pace to Mr. Hawthorne. His cloak knocked against my hand, and a childish urge to latch on erupted within me. I clenched my hands tightly. I’ve been coddled enough already.
On the bottom floor, Mr. Hawthorne spoke to the receptionist while I found Otis where I left him. The books we checked out fluttered into a briefcase, shrinking to half their size, so the case clicked shut—I would never get over that—then we left the archives.
Slate descended from the sky to perch on Mr. Hawthorne’s shoulder. For a moment, I pondered why he didn’t join us in the archives, seeing as pets were allowed. However, the thief had somehow acquired a ribbon, making three trinkets to add to his collection. What they all had in common was a slight shimmer that likely caught the sun and thus his attention. Had he joined us, he may have tried flying out with a whole book.
“We have time left,” Otis said with a glance at the clock tower outside. “Why don’t we visit Hawthorne Manor?”
“No,” Mr. Hawthorne replied immediately.
“But your parents would love to see you. We haven’t been there in two months.”
“It would be rude to drop in unannounced.”
That sounded like a lie. I shuffled my weight from one foot to the other. If he had the opportunity to visit his family, he should take it. I knew that was my jealousy speaking, that I would run home as soon as I could, and I couldn’t grasp why he wouldn’t.
Mr. Hawthorne snapped his fingers, lips pursed. “Ah, we were meant to get Miss Moore a new wardrobe today, though I fear we don’t have the time. She requires extensive work, after all.”
I rolled my eyes. “I am in no need of them.”
After what happened in the archives, I wasn’t keen on wandering around, either. There could be another dog under Carline’s influence anywhere. Again, I wanted to lay my own curse on that blasted demon. I couldn’t enjoy seeing a cute dog on the street without being paranoid. That was its own form of a curse.
“Considering all the attention you received—and will continue to receive—you do need them. I suppose we can return tomorrow,” he countered.
“I would prefer we work on my case rather than shop.”
“I will work, and you can shop. Oh,” he pouted better than both my cousins combined, “how I envy you, Miss Moore. I haven’t had a proper shopping outing for quite some time.”
“A week,” Otis translated.
