Page 35 of The Vanishing Bookstore
‘Dora is my friend; she has been since she took over the shop a few years ago. Such a lovely girl, we go to the bingo and eatlots of cake. I know Katie but not very well. I can give you Dora’s phone number but not Katie’s. Do you think she’s okay? That looked like a lot of blood and someone cut the phone wire.’
Eric raised his eyebrows at her, then began using a stylus to write on the phone screen.
‘I don’t know what’s going on, Mabel, but my colleagues will take care of it.’
‘Thank you.’
She took hold of her phone and scrolled through to find Dora’s number which she then repeated to him. He stood up, poured out two mugs of tea and carried them to the coffee table. Mabel didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d rather have a double shot of Jack Daniel’s to steady her nerves and instead picked up the mug and sipped at the too hot, too sugary tea. He took a few sips of his then set it back down.
‘Did you hear or see anything, Mabel? Hear any loud noises from the shop below?’
‘No, I didn’t. I have the television on a little too loud and then I sleep very well, I always have done. My mother used to tell me that a bomb could go off outside my bedroom door and it wouldn’t wake me.’
Eric smiled at her, and she smiled back. ‘I’m very worried about Katie.’
He reached out and patted her arm. ‘I know you are, let me go down and speak to my colleagues. I’ll come back to update you shortly.’
He stood up. He was so tall his head almost knocked the light shade off its pendant, and it swayed from side to side, the light casting dark shadows on the antique cream walls that Mabel was too afraid to stare at.
‘Thank you.’
He left her there, her hands shaking, her hip aching and her heart racing as she sipped the hot, sweet tea because she literally had no idea what else to do.
20
SALEM, PRESENT DAY
Sephy was busy in the kitchen. She had a cloth spread over the kitchen table with an assortment of dried eggshells, some lumps of charcoal that hadn’t burned in the grill out back last time she’d used it, a giant bag of sea salt and her trusty mortar and pestle.
Lenny walked in and took one look at it. ‘Black salt, really? You think that’s going to work against Corwin, did it work in the past?’
‘Good morning to you too, Lenny, and yes, it always works to a certain degree. Must you always be so dismissive, the old ways are the best, you know that.’
Lenny took the pot of coffee from the stove and poured herself a mugful.
‘I guess living so far away from you in London where I rarely got to use my magic has kind of wiped all of that whimsical charm right out of me.’
‘Well, if we are to stand the slightest chance of defeating Corwin for good you better make an effort to bring it back. We won’t have any power if you’re in denial and Dora can’t remember a single thing.’
Sephy continued grinding the eggshells into a fine dust with her mortar and pestle then tipped them into a large, clear glass mixing bowl. Next, she began to grind the charcoal, which was much harder.
Lenny sat down opposite her. ‘Would you like a hand?’
Sephy, who had a fine film of perspiration on her brow, nodded, then pointed to a cupboard. Lenny took a glug of her coffee then opened the cupboard to take out another mortar and pestle. There were eight of them all lined up in various sizes, and she chose the largest and carried to the table.
‘Let me do the charcoal, get some of my early morning angst out of my system.’
Sephy looked at her sister and laughed. ‘I hate to tell you this but it’s not just early morning, you seem to hold on to it all day and night too.’
Lenny gave her the finger. ‘Did we ever live an uncomplicated life? One where we weren’t always running from a psychotic witch hunter, or trying to rein Dora in? I feel as if they’ve all merged into one long nightmare.’
‘You know that we did, we just didn’t appreciate how simple and special it was at the time.’
‘Oh, spare me, are you going to tell me that living in that draughty old cabin, with no heating and lumpy straw for a bed, was the most perfect of them all? Because I would not look back fondly on the sixteen hundreds.’
‘Then I won’t say it. Don’t you remember how it was back then, seriously?’
Lenny was crushing the charcoal to a fine dust in the bowl in front of her. She shook her head.
