As the officer had promised, Darby was released without much of a fuss, though he was set to appear before a judge the following day. Miriam joined him in leaving the station, already thinking through what possible excuses she could give her work supervisor to beg for another day off. Her musings were cut off by the realization that Georgie was waiting for them after all, leaning back against her car.

“Took you long enough,” she scolded Darby playfully. “A few reporters stopped by, but don’t worry, I chased them away.”

“Thank you, for that,” Darby replied dryly. “You know how much I hate free publicity.” He motioned to Miriam. “I take I have you to thank for giving Ms. Vance a ride, too?”

Georgie smirked with an unwarranted amount of triumph. “She’s such a big fan of yours, I felt obligated. She knows a thing or two about magic and witches, too.”

“Does she?” Darby looked her over; Miriam leaned back, her skin prickling beneath the close scrutiny of his cool eyes. “Haven’t I always said my readers have better taste than most?”

Georgie laughed, but Miriam feared her time was running out, and she could only spare a quick, affronted glare before turning her attention solely on Darby. “Mr. Fairchild, I really am sorry about this morning,” she said, twisting her fingers around her purse strap again. “I wish I could have gotten there sooner and maybe talked her down.”

“That’s really not your fault or responsibility,” Darby reassured her. “It was Georgie that tipped off Usher.” Georgie shrugging had Miriam puffing up all over again, but then Darby continued. “But I think I understand why you’re really here. You’re hoping I have a copy of the book to give you.”

“Well, I…” Miriam shifted back and forth, gulping. “I really did mean—”

“No, I believe you. I do appreciate it.” He motioned to Georgie. “Give her your copy.”

Georgie raised an eyebrow at him. “You signed that specifically for me,” she reminded him, though her tone was more of a playful warning than her being at all put out.

“That just increases the value, really.”

Georgie shrugged again, and she reached into the open side of the car to pull out a crisp, fresh copy of The Affairs of Emerald L’Belle. Miriam accepted it reverently with both hands, positively tingling with excitement and relief. Such a handsome, green spine to match the title, such elegant font, such a stunning blonde painted across the cover! Miriam locked eyes with the titular Emerald in her cascading chiffon and simmered enviously. Unable to restrain her curiosity, she paged immediately through the book until her eye caught one of the long-rumored illustrations, and her breath caught.

Unlike the array of vibrant colors of the cover, the novel’s illustrations were in simple black and white. Dark, scratchy lines carved their way across the page as if drawn in great haste, intimating the figures more so than depicting them. The ephemeral Lady L’Belle lay strewn across what might have been a chaise lounge, might have been a moss-covered rock, chiffon spilling down her exposed thigh. A creature loomed over her, leanly muscled, with a long, snaking tail and a crown of demonic horns circling its head. Did it have six limbs? More? The details were so rough and almost dreamlike, she imagined it as being drawn by some voyeur in the little time they had to partake of the scandalous, impossible scene of human and beast, twisting together in rapturous—

Miriam closed the book with a clap and straightened up. Darby was smirking at her as if he already knew just which page she’d turned to, and she did her best to rearrange her expression into calm gratitude. You’re not a mind-reader, are you Mr. Fairchild? Her gaze darted to Georgie. Or you? If you are, you had better say so, right...now!

“If you like it, I have another book I can recommend to you,” said Darby. “Next time you’re at Quigley’s, tell Wilma I said you can have that book that was put aside for the signing today.”

“Put aside?” Miriam squeezed her new book tightly as a new curiosity bubbled inside her. “A book of yours?”

“Not exactly.” Darby let himself into Georgie’s car and took the passenger seat, and though Georgie looked puzzled, she moved around to the driver’s side. “‘Mr. Fairchild said he chose me to get that book.’ Tell her that. All right?”

“All right. Why me, though?”

“Because you’re here.” Darby smiled at her, so charming and sincere that Miriam felt herself blush. “Thank you for standing up for me, Mary.”

“Miriam,” Georgie corrected him as she started the car. “What book are you talking about?”

“Miriam,” Darby repeated, his smile quickly disappearing. “Like I said, both books are yours.”

“Thank you.” Miriam frowned, uncertain what to think and already overburdened by imagination. She stepped back from the curb, her feet anxious to carry her back to the bookshop. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“The pleasure was mine,” replied Georgie.

She winked, and immediately Miriam’s frown became a scowl. “I was talking to Mr. Fairchild.”

“I still mean it,” Georgie teased, rousing another flush from Miriam as she pulled away from the curb. “Enjoy my book, Miriam!”

The pair sped off, leaving Miriam buzzing in their wake. She could have at least offered me a ride, she thought as she turned on her heel back toward the bookstore. Why would someone like Mr. Fairchild even associate with someone like that? She can’t be his lover. She scoffed aloud. But I guess I should be thankful. If she hadn’t given me a ride they might have both left before I even got here, and I wouldn’t have this…

Miriam looked down to the book in her hands: gorgeously printed and brimming with sinful indulgences. She couldn’t wait for the chance to curl up in the apartment and read it cover to cover while Odelia was away at work. I should have asked him to sign it, she thought, only to remember that Georgie had said it already was. Wrinkling her nose, she peeled back the cover to see how Darby had signed it for her.

Darby’s handwriting was looping and fanciful, and in red ink he had written, To my favorite abomination. Instead of a signature, he had scrawled a collection of lines and curves that stopped Miriam in her tracks: two curved posts that ended in branching spirals, four lines with serifs, one triangle inside of another. Though hastily drawn the elements were unmistakable: it was a demonic sigil, and one Miriam was convinced she had seen before.

“Cursed stag,” she murmured, running her thumb over the curling representation of antlers. She picked up her pace again, only putting the book down once she arrived at a crosswalk that required her attention. Has The Chariot ever been depicted pulled by deer? she wondered as she waited impatiently for traffic to clear. No, that’s silly. He’s referenced plenty of supernatural creatures in his books before, but not this one. Maybe it’ll make an appearance? She flipped back to the illustration she had studied before, but try as she might, she couldn’t imagine the creature’s ring of horns to be antlers. Her eyes traced every line that made up the beast, trying to draw greater meaning from its strong curves, it’s clawed, groping hands, the face of its lover conveying intimate bliss with so few strokes—

Miriam slapped the book closed again. You’ll know soon enough! As soon as the road was clear she darted across and hurried back the way she’d come. First, to see what it was that Mr. Fairchild left behind.

***

Naomi Yosef arrived at Quigley’s Books at precisely seven o’clock in the morning. It reminded her very much of a crime scene, and her heart sank.

She had expected to see a line of people waiting for the signing to begin, stretched outside the building. At the very least there ought to have been open doors and a billboard out front. Instead, only a handful of people were milling about on the sidewalk, conversing in hushed, incredulous tones. Though a few cast glances up at the shop, none were bold enough to enter.

“Did they cancel the event?” Naomi wondered aloud. She chewed on her thumbnail as she scanned the sparse gathering; there was no sign of Darby. “He’s not here.”

Sitting next to her in the driver’s seat, Elijah sighed impatiently and pushed his fingers through his hair. Naomi didn’t care for his new appearance. His hair was so impossibly black and shineless, so perfectly trimmed close to his square jaw, it looked like plastic even when tousled. “I warned you about involving Fairchild. He does not have your best interests in mind. Or anyone’s other than his own, for that matter.”

Naomi continued to chew her nail as she watched the bookstore, as if he might suddenly appear. “He said he would help me choose someone,” she murmured.

“You don’t need his help for that,” said Elijah. “Anyone here is sure to have an interest in that book of yours.” He reached over and tugged Naomi’s hand away from her mouth. “If it’s so important to you, you ought to pick for yourself.”

Naomi slipped her hand free to clasp the sunhat in her lap. I could just pick, she thought. Her stomach clenched tight, and she knew that if she stayed next to Elijah any longer she would admit the truth to him. He always saw straight through her. With a deep breath she twisted her door open.

“I’m going to look for Darby inside,” she said as she hopped out of the car, and she closed the door behind her before Elijah could protest. Even so, she felt his disapproving eye on her as she made her way up to the shop.

I can’t just pick, she thought, tugging her hat on. The short hem of her sundress swished as she climbed the steps. The people on the sidewalks watched her, too, as she reached the door and firmly grasped the handle. I don’t trust my own judgment anymore.

She twisted the handle, only to find it stuck in place. The doors were locked. Naomi tried it again out of sheer befuddlement, but sure enough, nothing budged.

“Darby?” Naomi tucked her wavy black hair behind her ears and leaned into the door’s small glass window. “Mrs. Quigley?”

“It’s been locked since Fairchild left,” volunteered one of the onlookers as Naomi straightened back up. “Cops arrested him for selling pornography.”

Naomi turned to stare, stunned quiet as the gossip carried on around her. “That old bat is always sticking her nose into things,” said a woman as her friends nodded. “I was in favor of the liquor ban, but even that is ending soon.”

“But she did have a point,” said another. “Didn’t you hear about what’s happening in New York?”

Naomi let their chatter fall away from her ears as she looked back to the car. Elijah was still inside, waiting for her. She couldn’t see him through the darkened windows, but his “I told you so” face was dishearteningly easy to imagine. As the conversation muddled on, she went back to chewing her nail. If Darby’s not here, then...should I leave it to fate? she wondered. Wait until someone finds it? But there’s no time for that! She turned back toward the door to peer inside, hoping she could catch Mrs. Quigley’s attention if she were visible.

Naomi’s attention was so focused that she didn’t notice when the crowd went quiet. It left her completely off guard when a woman marched up beside her and knocked forcefully on the closed door. She startled back, which in turn startled the newcomer as if she too had been equally tunnel-visioned. They blinked at each other.