Miriam glared, even more put out to see Irene puffing herself up, but then Naomi took her hand. The unexpected contact broke her train of thought, and when she glanced back, Naomi’s distressed look triggered a protective instinct she didn’t know she had.

“Let’s go,” Naomi said quietly, and Miriam immediately nodded.

“This isn’t over,” Miriam promised to Irene, and with that she gripped Naomi’s hand and led her from the courtroom.

Out in the courthouse’s cavernous main hall, Darby had stopped to take questions from the reporters and fans. Almost all of them were clamoring to know the amount of the fee paid, which he coolly deflected. He seemed a little too unmoved by the entire affair, coyly playing up their suspense for an answer he wasn’t about to give. Miriam hung back with Naomi beside her, uncertain what to think, until one of the reporters asked about the book itself.

Darby merely shrugged. “It’s only an hour’s drive to Providence,” he said. “There’s sure to be copies for sale there.”

“And they’ll go for twice the price after they hear Boston declared it too scandalous to sell,” the reporter teased, and the others grinned and joked, agreeing with him.

Miriam’s shoulders went slack. Was it all a stunt after all? she thought, all the righteousness she had carried with her growing sour. The scene at Quigley’s, the police station, here? Just to make the book more popular? 

Darby glanced her way, and he looked like he might have been about to call out to her, so Miriam quickly turned to head for the exit.

A gentle tug on her hand reminded her that she was still gripping Naomi, and embarrassed, she quickly let her go. “Sorry!”

“Are you all right?” Naomi asked, matching her swift pace.

“Yes—fine.” Even so Miriam couldn’t stop her face from screwing up. “I guess I was worried for nothing! Mr. Fairchild has everything right in the palm of his hand. Good! I hope he sells out everywhere, because it’s a really good book!”

Naomi followed her out onto the street, and it wasn’t until they were on the sidewalk, a very normal day progressing all around them, that Miriam really stopped to take a proper breath. The sympathetic look Naomi was fixing her with pulled more truth out than she meant to share. “It’s nothing, he’s just...not like I imagined, I guess. Stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Naomi said quickly, and she touched Miriam’s arm. “Darby’s just like that. He enjoys misrepresenting himself and fooling people—he always has.”

Miriam was so distracted by the unexpected contact on her arm that she almost missed what Naomi was saying. “So you really do know him?” she asked, curiosity perking up despite herself. “You said so, but...I kind of assumed you were exaggerating.”

“Oh, I wish I was,” said Naomi with a wince of a smile. “Don’t feel bad, Miriam. He’s not bad, he’s just...a storyteller, in everything.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” It helped a little to hear, and Miriam nodded. “Who am I kidding? If he writes another I’d drive to New York to get it if I had to. And I’ve got plenty of books to keep me company in the meantime. He’ll be just fine.”

Miriam headed toward the intersection to look for a taxi; Naomi stayed close at her side, and after a moment she cleared her throat. “You mean...like Sefer Poyel?”

“Oh!” Miriam stopped almost mid-step. “Damn, that’s right. I almost forgot.” She glanced back toward the courthouse and then shook her head, berating herself. If it’s some kind of grimoire, it’s not like he wrote it himself. This could really be something—don’t let him ruin it for you! She took a deep breath, gathered herself up, and faced Naomi squarely. “We know Mrs. Quigley gave it to Mr. Tripepi,” she said with renewed fervor. “But it’s not as if we can just walk down Slate Street and ask around for him.” She tapped her chin anxiously as she thought aloud. “Maybe we can ask Mrs. Quigley to call him back. Say the book had an insert or something that he missed. And then...we take it!”

Naomi shifted back and forth. “Just take it? You said he was a criminal.”

“Well, yes, but it’s not like he paid for it. It’s supposed to be mine!” Miriam sighed in frustration. “But you’re right. There’s no telling if he’d even bring it with him! Maybe if we could find out where he lives…”

Naomi fidgeted some more. There was an almost guilty look on her face as she said, “Knowing where the book is is the most important part. I think I could...scry for it.”

“Scry?” Miriam loomed closer, aglow with interest. “You know how to scry?” She gasped with a jolt. “Are you a witch!”

“No!” Naomi said quickly, making a shushing gesture. “No, I, um.” Her cheeks darkened with a blush. “I don’t have a patron or anything like that.”

“Then you must be blessed,” Miriam concluded, and she grabbed up Naomi’s hands. “What’s it like? Ooh, you should have said so earlier! Can you really do magic? I want to hear all about it!”

Naomi blushed more deeply, and her voice softened, though there was relief and happiness in her face as if she never would have expected such a reaction. “You don’t think that’s...disturbing?” she asked. “Magic, I mean.”

“Of course not!” Miriam scoffed at the very idea. “I’m not one of Irene Usher’s little prudes. Magic is so incredible—I sure wish an angel had come down and…” 

Miriam cut herself off with an embarrassed grimace; even she managed to realize from time to time that she was saying too much. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It’s not disturbing at all,” she told Naomi firmly. “And you had better show it to me.”

Naomi smiled, her gratitude showing so clearly that it put mysterious little butterflies in Miriam’s stomach. “I’d love to,” she said. “Can we go somewhere private?”

Private? For some reason the word made Miriam swallow, and she stumbled over a reply. “I don’t live far from here,” she said, only to shake herself a moment later. “Damn it, though, I have to go back to work. My superior said she’d only give me the morning.” Realizing she was still holding Naomi’s hands, she released her, flustered, and began digging through her purse. “I’ll give you my address. Will you come by tonight, after six? Is there anything you need to do the scrying?”

“Oh, um, not really. I mean, I’ll bring whatever I need.” She watched as Miriam scrawled out the address on the back of a receipt and then accepted it gladly. “I’ll be there at six.”

“Great. Once we know where the book is, we can figure out how to snag it.” Though satisfied with their plan, when Miriam looked to Naomi—still smiling so happily—it made her feel off kilter, and was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “Well. I should get back. But yes, I’ll see you then.” She offered an awkward smile and then hurried off toward the intersection again.

***

I knew it, Naomi thought as she watched Miriam all the way to the end of the street. Her heart was still beating quickly against her ribs, and it was all she could do to keep from grinning openly. She’s perfect. She’s interested in magic—she thinks I’m blessed and didn’t flinch! She clasped her hands together, so gratified by Miriam’s reaction that she could have soared. This is going to work.

“Your halo is showing.”

Naomi startled and spun about, mortified, only to realize it was just Darby who had snuck up on her. Even so she checked above her head to be sure; no ring of burning gold after all. She folded her arms self consciously. “Darby! Don’t tease me like that.”

Darby rested his thumbs in his pockets as he smiled at Naomi with dull curiosity. “It’s only the truth,” he drawled. “I could see you glowing even in that courtroom. So?” He raised an elegant eyebrow. “How are you enjoying your first familiar?”

“That’s none of…” Naomi began, but she did not have Darby’s talent for lying, and he pulled the truth out of her without even trying. She sighed. “I haven’t done anything yet. A man named Tripepi has the book.”

“Joey Tripepi? The Brick?” Darby gave a quiet scoff. “Well, it hardly matters, doesn’t it? It’s not as if she needs to ‘summon’ an angel if you’ve already picked her.” He frowned thoughtfully. “You have decided on her, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Naomi glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Miriam disappear into the back seat of a taxi. She was still smiling when she turned back, and even Darby’s condescending amusement failed to take that from her. “You know, I wasn’t happy with you when I heard you’d intended to pass the book off in a lottery, but it really did work out for the best. Miriam is the perfect choice—smart, and driven, and lovely—and wants magic. Everything I could have hoped for.”

“So…?” Darby shrugged. “Go to it.”

At last Naomi’s good humor was dampened. Darby’s bored look was nothing like the cold impatience of Elijah, but it gnawed on her all the same. “No,” she said, gesturing as she spoke. “No, the plan was to plant the book so a human would think they could summon an angel. Then I appear, I grant their wish and give them magic, no surprises or hard feelings.”

Darby continued to squint at her, unconvinced. “You already said she wants magic. So...give it to her?”

“No,” Naomi insisted, crossing her arms again. “The last time I exposed myself to a human, she called me a witch and tried to burn me! If I wait for one to try to summon me that’s the only way to be sure.”

“But you said…” Darby rolled his eyes and sighed, completely without sympathy or understanding. “If this was Elijah’s idea it really is his worst yet,” he said with a flippant wave. “Either way it doesn’t involve me anymore.”

He turned to go, but the mention of Elijah’s name sent a chill through Naomi, and she quickly moved around in front of him. “You’ve spoken to Elijah?” she asked in an urgent whisper. “Recently?”

“I’ll have you know, Elijah and I are on very good terms, and I speak to him often,” Darby replied coolly. “He’s told me everything.”

“Then you know about—” Naomi cut herself off when she realized she was staring much too hard into Darby’s pale eyes. She stepped back from him and shook her head. “No, you’re lying. You always do.”

“I have never spoken falsely in my life,” Darby lied, pretending to be affronted. “It’s your dear Elijah you should worry about. If he’s encouraging you to take a familiar, it’s because he has plans for you both.” For a moment, his tone changed into something approaching friendly concern. “Be careful, Naomi.”

Naomi swallowed, but before she could begin to consider his words, she took another step back. “You’re not going to trick me into saying anything.”

Darby shrugged carelessly. “Don’t blame me for trying,” he said, and this time when he started to leave, Naomi did not interfere. “It’s only my nature. Good luck, old friend.”

Darby sauntered on, rejoining his lawyer further down the sidewalk. As the two climbed into Darby’s fancy car, Naomi at last turned to head back toward her own small residence in the city. 

He’s just jealous, she told herself as she hurried along, eager to recall her earlier excitement. And dying of curiosity. If Elijah had really told him anything, he wouldn’t have needed to come tease me at all. She took in a deep breath, wishing she was audacious enough to unfurl her wings right then and there. An Angel’s familiar. There hasn’t been one in decades, but Miriam is perfect for it. They’ll all see—she’ll be incredible.

Once again overflowing with optimism, Naomi rushed home to prepare.

***

“What?” Miriam asked, blinking owlishly at Odelia as they headed into their building that evening. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Dinner,” said Odelia, apparently not for the first time. “You said you have a friend coming over. Is she staying for dinner?”

“Oh! Um.” Miriam tugged at her purse strap as she followed Odelia up the stairs. “I didn’t ask. I guess so?”

“It’s okay if she is,” Odelia said patiently. “I was going to cook up some cabbage with dumplings, and there’ll be plenty.” She glanced at Miriam over her shoulder. “I’ll get that started if you wanted to tidy your room…?”

Miriam frowned. “My room? Why?”

Odelia smiled and continued on. “Or, you can help me chop onions.”

Miriam prided herself as a skilled onion-cutter—she almost never shed a tear. She made quick work of all the chopping in fact, with such enthusiasm that Odelia worried for her fingers. By the time the bell rang, the apartment was full of a heavenly aroma of onions and butter. Miriam skipped steps on her way down to the front door, mysteriously already flustered.

I get to see real magic! she thought, explaining away her uncharacteristic nerves. She yanked the door open and there stood Naomi, smiling at her, just as patient and sweet as that morning.

Naomi adjusted the weight of the handbag hanging off her shoulder. “Hello. I hope I’m not late.”