Page 103 of Villains Never Die

“It’s a freaking book, and the corner is singed,” he scoffed, tapping a finger on the cover of the book that lay between us. “Ten grand is way too much.”

I leaned forward and steepled my fingers. “Let me explain to you how this works. I set the price, you pay the price, you walk away, or I find someone else who wants it. There are seven copies of that book in existence, and I suspect one of them is at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. You have the next minute to decide before I have you escorted from the building.”

“This isn’t worth it,” he muttered, rising from his chair.

I raised a hand and used magic to put him back in his seat. “Listen, you disrespectful little maggot. My time is always worth it. You are the one wasting it. The offer is off the table. Get the fuck out of my building.” I held him in his seat a moment longer,just to give him a proper dose of panic before I released him and he fled the room.

Losing the sale was inconvenient, but not devastating. He would tell anyone he met what a threatening dick I was, and the next person would be more aware of the preciousness of my time and attention. I sat back and sighed, opening my phone and checking it for messages from Rook again. We were meeting at the warehouse later to read up on Death, but this fucking day dragged me through it second by second like it was trying to make me regret waking up this morning.

A hollowness caved in my chest, and the cold filtered into the gap. I should feel more than a frozen emptiness. My work would recover from the fire and my agenda for the upcoming weeks included an exciting attempt on my life by a serial killer. Things had nearly gone back to normal.

Except Gray no longer barged in the door and threw lunch at me like he was afraid I’d pass out if he didn’t. He didn’t nudge me with well-meaning, intrusive advice. I was friendless.

I’d lost what might have been my one chance to capture Death and make that bitch pay for what she took from me, and for all the bizarre issues she left behind. I might have had a normal life without voices and visions and the ice in my veins if I’d succeeded at stabbing my knife into her heart. All those months fishing for what I knew online—she played me.

And the only thing worse than being friendless and driven mad was the fact that Rook wouldn’t love me. Keep me. Protect me. Worry for me. Hell, even possessively claim me. But notloveme. That was too complicated.

I folded my arms on the desk and laid my forehead on them with a groan. When I’d said my life was dull and meaningless, I hadn’t meant to replace the feeling with the chaos I’d created since.

Can we meet sooner? I’m bored as fuck.

Rook: I just rolled out of bed. It’s not even noon yet.

I like the way you look when you wake up.

Rook: Flattery will get you nowhere before I have a cup of coffee.

I breathed an easy sigh of relief. This was what I needed—flirtation, light and harmless. Rook’s silly text messages would keep me from sinking for another few hours until I could see his face.

***

“Oh, thank God!” I set down the engraved sandstone sculpture in my hand. “I thought you were never going to show up.”

Rook grinned and dropped into the chair next to me. “I needed more coffee. And tea for the sexy Brit.” He extended a steaming paper cup to me and waited for me to take a sip.

It scorched my tongue, but then the sharp tang of Earl Grey seeped in and I exhaled. “That’s actually fucking fantastic.”

“As soon as I heard the cafe owner’s accent, I figured she knew what the hell she was doing.”

“Tip her extra next time,” I said, sipping slower now that I knew how good it tasted. I slid a napkin leftover from my lunch under his coffee cup as he went to set it down.

“So what are we working on today?” His tardiness and full night of sleep awarded him a cheerfulness I didn’t share.

“I’m going through it, crate by crate, studying each piece and each book, making notes, and cross-referencing.”

“Okay, how many crates are left?” His eyes followed when I gestured to the stacks from floor to ceiling.

“None of those have been opened.”

“Fuuuuuck.”

“I said you didn’t have to help.”

“No, I’m helping.” He gestured for me to hand him a pen and paper. “Give me something old and weird to look at. I’ve got this. Oh, wait! Before I do that…” He reached into his pocket and tossed a badly wrinkled and folded slip of paper in front of me. “That law you were looking for. Did you know magicians have libraries too? They are also full of boring shit.”

THM1745-A1884

Treaty Between Humans and Magicians 1745 - Humans shall cease all anti-magic activity, including personal vendettas, anti-magic legislation, “witch hunts,” and the payment of professional witchfinders. Likewise, magicians will cause no harm to humans and restrict the use of magic to private spaces, while keeping their identities as users of magic concealed.