Ten minutes later, he paused outside a familiar shop with faded gold lettering etched on the glass front door. Mountains of grimoires—new, used and refurbished—filled the gloomy interior like the best kind of bookstore. But that wasn’t the reason we had come to Third Eye Paperie.
Realizing that, I withered on the spot. “I had no idea you were such a cruel man.”
That ridiculous little non-smile flashed again. “You told me to be myself.”
Faking annoyance, I squinted up at him. “You’re saying I did this to myself?”
“You must get preparations underway. You can’t have a ball without invitations.”
He opened the door and guided me into the rundown shop Maud had used for all her stationery needs. For the briefest moment, especially with Linus by my side, I imagined she might step out from behind a leaning bookcase to chide me for hovering in the doorway. But she didn’t. And she never would again.
The place looked empty as Linus located a bell mounted to the wall with a long cord dangling from its clacker and rang it twice.
“A wedding?” a shrill voice blew through the shop. “Oh, la. What a momentous occasion.”
Linus angled his body between Matron Abigale Orestes and me. “Not a wedding.”
“Linus?” As always, she dressed as though a swath of fabric had caught her metaphysical eye, and she had proceeded to wrap the entire bolt around herself. The effect was toga-ish and raised uncomfortable questions about what she wore under there since every step and gesture revealed skin spotted by age and wrinkled by time. “I haven’t seen you since your voice changed.”
We both laughed at the weak joke, and the matron jerked her head toward me. Facing her head on never got any easier.
When she was younger, she fell in love with a High Society dame’s husband. He was handsome, charismatic, and married to a woman who grew so jealous of his beauty she rarely allowed him to leave their home. Orestes met him when she delivered invitations for one of the dame’s parties. Both lonely, the two struck up a friendship that led to more. The dame discovered her husband’s faithlessness, and she burned the eyes from Orestes’s head in punishment so she would ever again behold the beauty that had first ensnared her.
Theories abounded on how Orestes continued her art while blind, but I had long suspected Maud was responsible for the gift of “sight” that allowed the matron to flourish.
Paper was her passion, in all its myriad forms and usages. She made small batches for special customers, but the rest she ordered from a hedge witch family in Shreveport. Any paper that entered or exited her shop was made by hands, not machines.
A gifted artist in her own right, Orestes sketched, painted and printed templates for any and all social events. For an extra fee, she would even use her masterful calligraphy skills to address each one by hand. Thanks to Maud’s longstanding patronage, I knew her handwriting almost as well as my own.
With an indrawn breath, the matron swiveled her head toward me. “Who’s this then?”
“You remember Grier.” Linus didn’t tack on my last name. There was no point. What other Grier would be tagging along on his rounds? “She’s throwing a ball. She needs invitations. The event will be exclusive. Three hundred or thereabouts. The guest list is at your discretion.”
Orestes used her inside track to keep a running tally of the most popular names by event for exactly this reason, and she would share it for the right customers. And an additional charge, of course.
“Three hundred?” I clutched his arm.
“Any smaller, and you risk alienating potential allies by not inviting them to your first official function.”
Hating he was right, that the Society was so petty, I rested my forehead between his shoulder blades. “Ugh.”
“You haven’t changed a bit, my dear,” Orestes tittered. “Maud always had to drag you in to pick your birthday invitations. Most girls your age lived for any excuse to party, but not you. You were a quirky little thing. Always walking arm in arm with Amelie Pritchard or chasing after her brother. Are you all still friends?”
“No.” A dagger of regret wedged itself between my ribs. “We’ve gone our separate ways.”
“Ah, well.” She navigated her shop with sure footing and motioned us over to an alcove stacked with books filled with sample invitations. “These things happen with mixed friendships.” She winked at me, a crinkling of the skin at the corner of one eye. “The High Society doesn’t like us playing in their sandboxes.”
The observation left me fidgety beside Linus. She wasn’t wrong. Knowing that, I kept my mouth shut.
“That’s not to say they’re not without their redeeming qualities.” She tapped her bottom lip with an ink-stained finger while gazing at Linus. “Once in a rare generation, they produce someone worth admiring that almost justifies the rest of them.”
Admiration had gotten her into plenty of trouble once, but it didn’t seem to bother her anymore.
“Tell your mother I said hello,” she added as an afterthought to Linus. “I’ll give her twenty-five percent off her first order as congratulations on her promotion to overlord—I mean, Grande Dame.”
“I’ll do that,” Linus said politely. “I’ll pass along your congratulations as well.”
Ever the diplomat. I’m glad he salvaged the situation. It was all I could do not to sputter a laugh.
Overlord.
Ha!
“You do that,” she said, sweet venom lacing her words before turning her attention back to me. “Maud stuck to a garden theme when having guests at Woolworth House. She preferred the roses, naturally, but they were her favorites. You’re Dame Woolworth now. What are yours?”
“The ball will be held at the Lawson manor.” I slid a look toward Linus. “Are there any symbols your mother prefers?”
“Pick for yourself,” Orestes urged. “The house might be hers, but the guests will be yours.”
“She’s right.” Linus accepted a book from her gnarled fingers and began flipping through the designs. “What you select is a direct reflection on you. Make it something personal.”
“Make a statement.” Orestes dumped an even chunkier book in my hands. “Coffee? Tea? Soda?”
“Tea,” Linus said, “with honey if you have any.”
“I buy local. Helps with my allergies.” She turned her head toward me. “What about you?”
“I’m fine, but thank you.”
“I’ll be right back.” She flicked a hand at the samples. “You two skim for inspiration.”
Pretending interest until she bustled out of sight, I turned on Linus. “You owe me for this.”
“You’re the one who wants to parlay with the master.” He thumped the cracked spine. “This is part of that.”
“Oh, no, the ball was your idea.” The credit belonged one hundred percent to him. “I was thinking more along the lines of writing him a note with instructions to meet me at one of those chain coffee houses near dawn. All I would have to do is leave it for one of his skulking lackeys to find. We could meet one-on-one and discuss his not kidnapping me again over scones like civilized people.”
“He doesn’t strike me as the scones-at-dawn type.”
A pleased laugh forced its way free of me. Linus was playing with me. “We’ll never know now, will we?”
“Not unless he proves his claim is true and you two reconcile.” Linus’s fingers clenched on the page, wrinkling the delicate paper and killing his light mood. “Even then, I doubt you’ll convince him to sip from a paper cup.”
“The ball is a good idea.” I covered his hand with mine, smoothing the creases beneath his palm. “A controlled setting for this conversation means we go into this meeting with the advantage. We can hear him out, tell him thanks but no thanks, and then get on with our lives.”
“Our lives,” he murmured, twisting his wrist so that our fingers almost, almost meshed together. The ice of his skin was a cold burn against mine that invited me to close the distance, to warm him with my touch.
“Yes,” I answered thickly, heart in my throat, pulse in my ears. “This will be one less thing for you to worry about after you leave.” The reminder that Atlanta owned him stung. “One less monster under my bed.”
“Grier…”
“The Undead Coalition would benefit from our insight as well.” I kept going, piling on more words, more distance, from the ones that hurt. “Maybe the Grande Dame can work her magic on the master. How great would that look on her resume if she facilitated peace talks between him and the Undead Coalition?”
Mouth a tight line, Linus withdrew his hand and passed over the book, taking the other volume from me. “You might like that design.” He set down his burden. “It suits you.” He turned his back on me. “I’m stepping out for some air.”
I had taken a step after him when Orestes reemerged holding a silver tray laden with cups and cookies.
“I have tea,” she trilled. “Grier, are you sure I can’t interest you in…?” Her question for me trailed into nothing as she grasped I stood alone. “Where did the Lawson boy go?”
“He needed air,” I snapped, regretting my temper. “Sorry for biting your head off.”
“Oh, sweet girl. You don’t have to apologize to me of all people.” Her brows pinched in sympathy, the skin around her scar tissue tightening. “Men, no matter how handsome, elegant, or wealthy, are nothing but trouble.”
“That’s been my experience too.” Though none of those attributes were required for a broken heart. Boaz had proven that.
“The younger you learn, the easier the rest of your life will be.” She set about fixing herself a cup. “Want my advice?”
A woman with her history might be the last person I ought to take pointers from but “Sure.”