The Rose Witch - Chandelle LaVaun Page 0,43
us, though?”
“Human minds will explain away what they can’t understand.” He grinned. “And if they don’t, then I’ll make them.”
My steps faltered. “That’s not bloody unsettling at all.”
He chuckled and it was full of mischief.
I shook my head and skipped up to the doorway to get out of the cold breeze. It wasn’t until I was standing in front of the door that I realized I didn’t have my stuff. I cursed. “I don’t have my keys. We can’t get in. We’ll have to go to my—"
He grabbed my hand and electricity shot up my arm. He pressed it to the doorknob and held. There was a loud click and then the door swung open all on its own.
My breath left me in a rush. “What…how?”
His fingers were still holding mine. His face hovered just above my ear. “This space was a safe haven for Lancasters for centuries. It will recognize your magic now that it’s back.”
The rumble of his voice that close to my ear sent little vibrations through my body that made me shiver. Heat rushed to my face. Keep your head straight, Chlo. You don’t have knickers on. I smiled up at him and stepped inside. A strong sense of deja-vu came over me as I made my way over to the light switch. It’d been a crazy twenty-four hours. Seemed like days ago that I stumbled in here and destroyed half the — oh bugger. It’s going to be a bloody mess.
I braced myself and then flipped the switch. Bright light filled the room.
My jaw dropped. It was perfectly clean. Like I’d never been in there today at all.
Malachi cleared his throat behind me. “I cleaned it all up after you went through the painting.”
I gasped and spun to face him. “You cleaned all of it?”
He shrugged. “Spot helped.”
Spot perked his ears up and rumbled.
“Well…thank you. Both of you.” I turned to face the rest of the store, ignoring the moving paintings on the walls. “All right, so, we start…somewhere?”
“IF it’s here, it would be in a section that is not open to the public.”
“The restricted section. Right. Good thinking, Hermione. Follow me.” I waved for them to follow me as I walked down the main aisle.
“Hermione Granger,” Malachi grumbled.
I made a sharp left turn, then glanced over my shoulder at him. “You have at least seen Harry Potter, right?”
He scoffed. “Chloe, I am seven hundred and twenty years old—”
I gasped and spun around. “What—"
He’d been following behind me closer than I realized so he crashed into me and we stumbled backwards. His arms wrapped around my body, his hands pressing into my hips as he caught me. He stood straight and sat me on my feet. “You all right?”
“Did you say—”
“Seven hundred and twenty, yes.” He slid his hands off of my hips and grinned. “I was born in the year 1298.”
“That’s before the war started.”
“They knew it was coming… just like they know another is coming now.”
I shivered and pushed that thought away. Then I turned back and resumed walking. “You look good for being so ancient.”
He chuckled. “Thank you.”
“But that didn’t answer my question—”
“Chloe, I’m over seven centuries old, I’m immortal, and I’ve been waiting for the locket to awaken…of course I’ve seen Harry Potter. Read the books too.”
“Good. Hate to have to end our friendship so soon,” I said from the top step, then grinned and winked. I skipped down the steps to the bottom then slammed into his chest, his hands gripped my hips to steady me. Again. I gasped and looked up to find his eyes twinkling down at me. He’d done that teleporting thing of his again. “Cheeky.”
“Too soon?” He chuckled. His hands tightened on my hips for a second but it was just long enough to send my pulse into a tailspin. He stepped aside. “After you.”
With heat pouring from my face, I slipped around him and led the way to the far corner of the store where a set of wooden French doors separated a section of the store from the rest. Spot ran up and down the aisles of the bookstore, but I wasn’t going to ask why.
I opened the French doors and walked in. The smell of old books washed over me. I smiled and inhaled the scent like it was the oxygen I needed to live. “This is the Lancaster collection. The restricted section for Lancasters only. Most of these are either old first editions, collector’s editions, or similar.”
He nodded and walked up the