Ink and Shadows(Secret, Book, & Scone Society #4)(80)

Despite these challenges, Nora still believed in the staying power of books. She also believed in reader loyalty. As long as the bookstore was the beating heart of every town—the place where people went for hot drinks, soft music, and the delicious anticipation of discovering a fabulous new book—they’d never become obsolete.

And Miracle Books was definitely the heart of this town.

“Creating art, teaching people about art, and preserving art is noble,” Nora said. “But using artistic talent to manufacture counterfeit grimoire pages isn’t. And tricking a collector out of his or her money? That’s despicable. Or are you going to tell me that all the profits went toward feeding the hungry and healing the sick?”

Beck glowered at her. “Every community has unforeseen expenses.”

“Such as hiring attorneys to fight Lazarus Harper’s civil suit?”

Beck flinched. The target had hit its mark.

Nora pressed her advantage. “Every CBD product sold at Soothe came with a Certificate of Analysis. Either Celeste learned her lesson, or what happened with Mr. Harper wasn’t her fault.”

“Celeste. Reminds me of those ridiculous moon goddess statues she sculpted when she first came to Still Waters,” Beck scoffed. “She could have made anything—she was truly gifted—but she only sculpted so-called powerful women. What horseshit.”

Nora thought about her controversial window display. She pictured the women brewing stories in their cauldron and the array of powerful female characters on the book covers. More than once, Nora had doubted the wisdom of keeping the display intact. However, Beck’s remark made her wish that it was still in place.

“Cecily had no power,” Beck continued, warming to his subject. “She only survived because my older brother let her join Still Waters. The two of them had a casual thing for over a decade. If my brother hadn’t had a brain aneurism and died, I wouldn’t have been in the position to tell Cecily to hand over her book. Stupid cow refused. I was going to kick her out when Bren came to me. She was more ambitious than her mother, but in the end, just as powerless.”

Swallowing her rage, Nora said, “Celeste made other things besides women.”

“Those garden pieces?” Beck snorted in disdain. “Cement cherubs made from molds don’t bring in much money. It was peanuts compared to what she got for a marble angel.”

Nora’s mouth curved into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Maybe. But some of those garden pieces were hollow in the middle. A person could hide something inside, say, a table base.”

Pinpricks of fury flared in Beck’s eyes. “The mushroom table!” He looked at the box holding the book and snarled, “Damn you, Cecily. You should have told me.”

He wasn’t remorseful. He was annoyed, as if Celeste had inconvenienced him by dying instead of telling him that Juliana’s book was inside the table in her grow room.

Quietly, Nora said, “I don’t see why you’re upset. You’ve won. Celeste didn’t fight the poison because you’d already broken her. You did that when you took her daughter away. Forever.”

“Oh, please. Mom and Baby Girl hadn’t gotten along ever since I started paying attention to Bren. And before you hang a halo on her, you should know that the fake spell pages were Bren’s idea. She invented the language, created our online identity, and handled the money. She was smart. Until she wasn’t.”

“Until she asked for a bigger cut, you mean. She wanted to fund her dreams. Even in the height of her adoration, she knew that she wouldn’t stay with you. She wanted to see the world. She told me as much.”

Beck scooped up the box. “I’m leaving now, but before I go, I want you to listen closely. If you interfere with my plans in any way, I’ll name you as my accomplice. Your posting claims that this book is a genuine occult item from the late sixteenth century. I bought it from you in good faith, so if I go down for counterfeiting, you’ll go down too.”

Feeling reckless, Nora leapt to her feet. “I’m not going to interfere. Just tell me one thing. The symbols on your arm. Are they from Bren’s language?” At Beck’s nod, she went on, “What do they spell?”

The smug smile returned. “Maestro.”

“Would you show me?”

He sneered. “Why would I?”

“Your world revolves around art. Mine revolves around language. The fact that you two were able to create one—it’s like reading the work of JRR Tolkien or Anthony Burgess.” For good measure, she added, “Those men were geniuses.”

Beck didn’t point out that Bren had invented the language on her own. He just pushed up the sleeve of his leather coat, baring his forearm. Nora’s gut constricted at the sight of the inked symbols. Wolf Beck was definitely the man who’d been in the park with Bren.

Nora said. “Bren’s tattoos. What did they mean?”

“Raven. Kind of ironic, huh? To be named after a meat-eating bird?” With a chuckle, Beck moved toward the Fiction section, tossing words over his shoulder as he walked. “You got lucky tonight, Book Lady. Forget me, or that luck will change.”

“Are you going to poison me too?” Nora called after him.

An eerie laugh echoed through the stacks. “Maybe I already did.”

As soon as she heard the sleigh bells ring, Nora rushed into the ticket agent’s office to wash her hands. She hadn’t touched Beck. She hadn’t handled his envelope or the money inside. But his presence had left a taint in the air, so Nora thrust her hands under the stream of hot water, scrubbing and scrubbing until her skin turned red.