The Glamourist (The Vine Witch #2)(37)
“Fortunately, there is a remedy for those lucky enough to find it,” Elena said.
“Ah, love. Indeed, it is the best antidote to be had for the price.”
Pleasantries out of the way, Olmos turned his attention to Yvette. She’d seen that look before. The one all shop owners gave her when she entered their store. By the way his eye searched her hands, his nose lifted to better see her down the length of it, and his lip tightened in disapproval, she knew he took her for a thief straightaway. Good instincts, she supposed, but offensive all the same. Nonetheless, he struck the pose of one ready to serve by folding his hands behind his back.
“As perceptive as always, Alexandre. Which is why I’d like to introduce you to Yvette Lenoir.”
“Enchanté, mademoiselle.” The shopkeeper’s gaze overshot the top of her head by a good six inches, as if he were watching a shadow floating above her; then it settled again at eye level.
“If you are a friend of Elena’s, you are most welcome in my little shop of books and intrigues.” The man blinked through his lenses at Yvette. “Yes, most welcome, although I must inform you that particular perfume bottle is not for sale,” he said and took it carefully from her, setting the object behind the counter. She thought then how smart she’d been to leave Sidra’s bottle in the little apartment tucked behind the plaster in the wall. It was way nicer than the one this man was worried about.
Yvette felt her center tilt a little off-kilter at the way the man kept checking her aura, but she remembered what Elena had said about him being some sort of expert in strange stuff, so she ignored his attentions and managed a respectable nod in return. “Intrigues?” she asked, feeling the need to take a second glance at the shelves around her.
Alexandre gestured toward the room. “For the uninitiated we’re mostly regarded as an occult bookshop.” The man took a slim volume off the nearest shelf and flayed the pages open for her to see. “This is one of my best sellers among the city’s housewives. An encyclopedia of sorts. Descriptions, terms, and illustrations to give the reader a sense of how to execute a few harmless incantations. All rather droll but, as I said, the mortal women in the city can’t seem to buy enough of them.” He snapped the book shut. “Very popular. You see, its small size makes it convenient to tuck behind a cushion or ditch in the empty flour tin in the event the disapproving mother-in-law arrives and you’d rather she didn’t know you’re dabbling in the supernatural arts.” Alexandre presented the book for inspection. “I must sell half a dozen a week.”
“Oh, I want to do more than dabble. I should have learned this stuff ages ago.”
Yvette took the book when offered and thumbed through the opening pages. She didn’t see any incantations she recognized from her days at the carnival. Professor Rackham, a witch who’d made his living working as a carny psychic, had always had a spare moment between shows to tutor her in basic tarot and potions. Well, when he wasn’t otherwise diving into her cleavage with his eyes.
Alexandre tapped a finger against his lips as his eyes studied the space over Yvette’s head yet again. “But, of course, that’s not why she’s here, is it?” he said to Elena.
“No.” Elena walked to the front door and turned the sign so it read CLOSED to anyone passing by. “We have a situation I believe only you can help with,” she said and locked the door.
“In addition to the young woman’s stagnated aura?”
Stagnated?
“I believe they are related,” Elena said, signaling Yvette to present the leather-bound book. “Her mother left this for her sixteenth birthday, though she only recently received it. Is it a spell book of some kind? There are patterns and codes, but none that will reveal themselves to me.”
Alexandre looked over the book with interest, holding it so that only the tips of his fingers touched the edges as he moved closer to the shop window to better study the pages in the light. He adjusted his pince-nez and squinted at the neatly lined symbols, turning each page slowly as if absorbing the information in tolerable small doses. He checked again that the front door was locked. Satisfied, he went to a shelf at the back of the store, one with several decrepit old books propped up by a pair of candlesticks. There he removed a book with a red leather binding, flipped it open to a middle section written in similar gold lettering, and did a side-by-side comparison with Yvette’s book. After a grumble or two he shut the book and replaced it on the shelf, only to retrieve a different one from beneath a woman’s hatbox. This one proved more promising, drawing a pursed lip followed by a muttered “possibly” from the witch.
He seemed then to get an idea. Alexandre closed the book and gazed again at Yvette, scrutinizing her aura for anything he might have missed. “The radiation is broad yet weak. And there are sections that fade altogether.”
Elena agreed. “Most notably near her face.”
He moved in closer to study the scar running along Yvette’s jaw. “How long have you had that unfortunate mark?” he asked abruptly, staring but not touching, seemingly unaware of the impropriety of asking such a personal question.
“All my life,” she said, and she swore she felt her cheek begin to tingle.
Whether it was the atmosphere of the enchanted shop or the tension wire of secrecy with which they went about their talk, Yvette’s limited intuition pricked its ears. An uncomfortable twinge within her chest followed.