Page 49 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“A collar. That would be an odd thing to add to an illusion,” he agreed.
“Are you saying it wasn’t an illusion, then?”
“I am implying it might not have been.” He stashed another book on the shelf a little too roughly. “Considering Carline’s capabilities thus far, I wouldn’t besurprised if she’s able to control animals from a great distance. However, it was bolder of her than expected to send one after you in public.”
“How would a dog get into the archives, anyway?”
“Through the front door, I imagine.”
“I am in no mood for you being coy.”
He leaned against the shelving. The books that followed him must have been ones he planned to check out. There were at least a dozen of them swaying from side to side. He looked in his element, surrounded by research materials and haughty as ever.
“I am being honest. There are no rules against animals in the archives. The dog could have waltzed in with someone and wandered up here,” he said.
I spun around in search of the accursed creature. If I survived this, Carline would get an earful for making me fearful of every dog I saw. Surviving in a world where I worried about whether a dog would bite me was one I didn’t want to live in. I would much rather give them pets and treats.
“Could the dog still be here?” I asked skeptically.
“Yes, but we’ll stick together. I’ll protect you from any big bad doggies,” he teased.
“I bet you would run at the sight of one.”
“Obviously.” He pressed his palm against his cheek while batting his eyelashes. “This face isn’t worth damaging, but I am more than capable of protecting you from a safe distance.”
“Your attempts at comfort are pathetic at best. I would actually prefer it if you kept them to yourself.” I snatched the last set of books from the floor.
They must have been the ones I threw because they belonged a few aisles over. I wandered to them, searching where to place them, then a shelf shook. Startled, I pivoted in search of the dog. The shelf shook again, and I retreated.
What caused that? An earthquake? None of the other shelves shook, though. One book rattled. Was there a mouse or something? I grabbed the spine then a hand fell on mine.
“I would advise against that. This one bites,” Mr. Hawthorne warned. He loomed over me, lips set into a teasing grin.
“Why would a book bite?” I inquired.
“You are welcome to ask.” His finger tapped my hand, reminding me of our connection. My chest warmed slightly.
“I am asking you, the most talented artificer this world has ever seen.”
“At least try to say that with a little conviction.” He leaned in, his scent like early morning coffee and an open book. Neither had been of interest to me all my life, and yet now, I found myself wanting.
“Will I be compensated for my acting prowess?” I challenged.
“My assistance free of charge isn’t enough to warrant even a moment of your feigned niceties?”
“No, because you are getting a research project out of me.”
“Fair point.” He lingered, a sturdy wall between me and the rest of the world. The books fluttered at his back, somehow less magical than his eyes, greener than a forest, far more enchanting than one too.
I wet my lips, and his eyes dared to glance at them.
“Are you done? It is growing late,” I said weakly.
“I have a few more books I would like to get,” he replied. “We can find Otis, and you can wait with him.”
“We spoke earlier, and he advised me to find you; otherwise, we may never leave the library.”
“I see.” He curled his fingers around mine, making me self-conscious of the coarseness of my hands. They were calloused and hard, not made to be gentle, but he held me like they were. “Be a good girl, then, and touch nothing without my permission.”
