The Book of Mayhem Read online

  “Therefore my favorite.” She smirked at me and patted my cheek. “You coming to dinner? Mom said to ask. She also said to invite your boyfriend. Hellie, haven’t you dumped that waste of space Chet already?”

  “I did, thanks for asking. She meant Jason. We—”

  “I can’t wait to meet him.” She lounged against the countertop and picked at a flaw in the glass. There were a lot of them. I ought to get the top replaced. “I wish I could introduce you to Ethan, but he had to work. Busy life, trading stocks on Wall Street.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Tension built behind my eyes the way it always did when Cynthia showed up. She was worse now than when we’d been kids, but maybe that was because she had more with which to lord it over me—hot model turned stockbroker boyfriend, successful career, expensive apartment somewhere fancy in New York City…the list went on. I reminded myself that I was the custodian of a powerful magical entity and smiled pleasantly.

  The door opened, sending bells jingling. “Helena, I—oh, excuse me,” Malcolm said. He had a slip of paper in one hand and held the door with the other. “I realized I wanted you to find me that book, after all,” he continued, his eyes focused on Cynthia. She, for her part, was at full alert and smiling like a cat in a purring competition.

  “No problem,” I said, taking the augury slip from him. “This is my sister, Cynthia. Cynthia, this is a friend of mine, Malcolm Campbell. He’s a regular customer.”

  “Very pleased to meet you,” Cynthia said, extending a well-manicured hand toward Malcolm.

  “It’s always good to meet a relative of Helena’s,” Malcolm said, inclining his dark head toward her with a smile. I wanted to tear Cynthia’s hair out by the roots.

  “I’ll just…go find this book,” I said, and practically ran for the oracle.

  Once inside, I stopped to calm myself. Cynthia loved pushing my buttons. Therefore, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. I would perform this augury, and have a pleasant conversation with her, and then she would leave…and I’d have to see her at dinner, and listen to her snide comments, and watch her flirt with my boyfriend the way she always did. How long is this business trip, anyway?

  Malcolm’s augury was relatively inexpensive, something to help him track invaders tonight. I wished I could go along. It would be better than dinner with Cynthia.

  “Here you are,” I said, handing it to him. “That will be $450.”

  Cynthia gasped dramatically. “Expensive book!”

  “Old books frequently are,” Malcolm said, reaching for his suit pocket. He paused, his dark eyes fixed on me in a realization that he couldn’t hand over tubes of sanguinis sapiens in front of Cynthia. “Will you put it on my account, Helena?”

  “That doesn’t look like an old book to me,” Cynthia said, eyeing the brightly colored cover of A Child’s Encyclopedia of Animals, vol. 15, POS to RIK.

  “Condition is, of course, essential,” Malcolm said smoothly. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Cynthia. Thank you again, Helena.”

  When he was gone, Cynthia fanned herself dramatically. “Why aren’t you dating him, Hellie? He’s positively edible.”

  Fury swept through me, fury and pain that stunned me, and I managed to say, “He’s just a good friend. It’s possible to have those, you know.”

  “I know, but if I were your Jared, I’d be worried.”

  “His name is Jason, and we’re fine, thanks.”

  “Don’t be so snooty, Helena, I’m just taking an interest in your life.”

  “I think we need a better—oh,” Judy said, emerging from the back of the store. She sounded so much like Malcolm had that I suddenly felt like laughing. None of us were used to ordinary customers coming in, it happened so rarely, and watching my friends stumble over their secrets made me feel less miserable. “Who’s this?”

  “My sister, Cynthia. Cynthia, this is Judy, my co-worker.”

  “Co-worker? I thought you ran the place.” Cynthia eyed Judy narrowly, like a possible rival, though I couldn’t think for whom.

  “I do. Judy helps. And we have a lot of work to do.” I didn’t lean too hard on those words, but Cynthia got the message anyway.

  “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your work,” Cynthia said. “I’ll see you at dinner, Hellie.” She smiled at Judy and swept out of the store.

  Judy said, “‘Hellie’?”

  “I hate it. Never call me that.”

  “I wouldn’t. It sounds like something you’d call a pet. I’d say it’s impossible she’s your sister, except you look exactly alike.”

  “We do not.”

  “All right, she’s bustier and taller than you, but aside from that…you even have the same smile.”

  “Don’t remind me.” I leaned against the countertop. “What were you going to say?”

  “Huh? Oh. I was going to say we need a better system for processing the sanguinis sapiens. The safe deposit box you’ve been using is inadequate, and moving to a larger box just pushes the problem back a few steps.”

  “Did you have a plan?”

  “No, but I thought I’d talk to someone at the Athenaeum access point about how they do it. They handle far more of it than we do and might have a solution.”

  “Good idea.” The Athenaeum, greatest repository of knowledge in the world, accepted only raw magic as payment for accessing its records. If anyone knew what to do with an excess of sanguinis sapiens, it was its technicians Guille and Irina. “How’s the database coming?”

  Judy scowled. “I realize it was my idea and I therefore have no excuse to bitch, but I think we need to hire someone to do the data entry. I’m going blind from reading those records.”

  “I’ll think about it. I can take a turn at typing, too.”

  “So long as business continues to be slow, that would help. But if we get too many requests—”

  The door swung open. “I’ve got payment,” said Hallstrom. He carried a filing box filled with what smelled like the remnants of a forest fire. Blackened leather bindings peeked out at the top. “I know they smell a little smoky, but they’re in good condition.”

  I ran my fingers along the spines. They came away clean. Apparently the blackness was age rather than soot. “Let’s see if Abernathy’s will take them,” I said, and removed the first book and opened to the title page. It was clean, if age-yellowed and spotted near the edges, and nothing was written on it. I glanced over my shoulder at the bookcases. Are you paying attention? “Not this one,” I added, setting it aside.

  On the title page of the second book, in faintly golden script, was the number $75. “Seventy-five dollars,” I told Judy, who tapped a note into her phone.

  “Is that a lot?” Hallstrom said. He leaned over to look at the book’s page, which to him would be blank. “It seems like a lot.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, reaching for another book. I had no idea what criteria the oracle used to decide how much a book was worth, though I guessed the value might have something to do with how readily it could turn the thing into an augury. I was mostly just glad I didn’t have to figure out values myself.

  Hallstrom ended up with about six hundred dollars in credit and gratefully came up with the balance in cash. “You don’t know how much this means to me,” he said, clutching his augury to his thin chest.

  Nope, I really don’t. That’s how it works. “You’re welcome,” I said, and let out a deep breath when he was gone.

  “I hate the grateful ones,” Judy said.

  “Judy!”

  “I do. They make me feel uncomfortable, like I’m getting credit for something I didn’t do. Literally didn’t, since I’m not the custodian.” She didn’t sound bitter about that the way she would have half a year ago.

  “I feel that way too, but it’s gratitude we’re accepting for the oracle, so I think we should be gracious about it.”

  Judy shrugged. “I’ll put these away if you like, and you can take a turn at the keyboard.” She gathered up the pile of books, w
hich was quite large, and staggered away into the stacks. I let her do it. It wasn’t as if Abernathy’s had a shelving system; it operated on principles of indeterminacy, in which not knowing what was in the store meant anything could be in the store, so we just neatly shelved books any old place.

  I typed customer information into the database for about forty-five minutes, until two o’clock, when the Ambrosites arrived, making the second rush of the day. Their auguries kept me busy for a couple of hours, but I never minded. Time spent in the oracle energized me, made me feel cheerful, and I had plenty of friends among the Ambrosites I enjoyed chatting with, just as I did among the Nicolliens. I was impartial the way the Accords demanded. Too bad—I cut off that line of thinking before it could ruin my mood. Malcolm was a friend, too.

  When things slacked off around five, I called Jason. “Hey, hon,” he said. It was how he always answered the phone when I called. I didn’t really like it, but it seemed like a stupid thing to make a fuss over.

  “You’re busy tonight, right?” I hopped onto the tall stool and kept one eye on the front door.

  “Um, no, should I be?”

  I sighed. “You might wish you were busy. My sister’s in town and my mom wants us all to come for family dinner.”

  “Your mom’s cooking? Is it salmon again? I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

  “I don’t know what she’s cooking, but did I mention my sister is in town?”

  “You did. I’d love to meet her.”

  I leaned my elbows on the glass countertop and closed my eyes, searching for inner peace. “Jason, she’s a bitch. She’ll flirt with you and insult me and my parents will ignore it.”

  “She can’t be that bad.”

  “I assure you she can.”

  There was a tiny pause, almost imperceptible. “Look, hon, if you don’t want me to come—” His voice had that little whine in it that got on my nerves.

  “It’s not about you.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  I sighed again. “Nothing. I just don’t like her. Will you come tonight?”

  “It sounds like you’d rather I didn’t.”

  I hated when he got his feelings hurt. It made me feel like I had to back down to cheer him up. “If I have to go, I’d really like it if you were there. I’ll feel less defensive.”

  “All right. And I promise not to flirt with your sister. As if I’d want to with you in the room.”

  “That makes me feel better,” I said, though it sort of didn’t. “You want to meet at my parents’, or should I pick you up?”

  “Why don’t I pick you up? Then afterward, we can come back to your place and fool around.”

  It was back to that again. “You know I prefer your place. It’s bigger, and more comfortable—”

  “We never go to your apartment. I’m starting to think you’ve got a bunch of ex-boyfriends’ bodies stashed there.”

  “No, but my meth lab takes up all the extra space.”

  Jason laughed. “All right, pick me up at six-thirty.”

  When he’d hung up, I stared at my phone for a while. It was true, I’d never invited him to my apartment, and I didn’t know why. It would certainly be convenient for me and my work, especially if he spent the night—not that I’d spent the night at his place yet, either. My reluctance was just another reminder that as much as I liked Jason, there was still a distance between us he didn’t seem aware of, a gap I didn’t know how to bridge. He was cute, and smart, and funny, and the sex was good—so what was the problem? You know what the problem is, I told myself, and went back to mindlessly typing names and addresses.

  By six o’clock I was sick of the keyboard and mentally prepared for a happy family dinner, not that I was likely to get that. I locked up the store, said goodbye to Judy, and drove off toward Jason’s apartment. He lived in a nice, quiet part of town, and I was mostly honest when I said I felt more comfortable at his place. My apartment above the store, which had once belonged to a custodian named Silas Abernathy, was about seventy years old and still decorated in that classic style. It also lacked adequate heating and cooling, Abernathy’s system not extending to the second floor, and fronted on a relatively busy street whose noise penetrated the walls day and night. At least at Jason’s apartment I wasn’t distracted by the sounds of cars driving past all the time.

  Jason lived about ten minutes from my parents’ house, in an upscale apartment complex with white brick facings on the ground floor and the upper levels painted forest green. Cute little hedges lined the walkway facing the parking lot, making the tiny yards look like a long row of English cottages. Jason came bounding out the door when I drove up. “I was watching for you,” he said, unnecessarily, and leaned over to kiss me. His hair, blonder than mine, flopped down over his very blue eyes. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

  “Really? What have you been thinking about?”

  He ran his finger down the line of my neck. “I’ll show you later,” he said, smiling.

  “Mmm, something to look forward to.”

  “Dinner’s not going to be that bad, Hel.”

  “I hope not.” I had no reason to be that optimistic.

  My parents lived near Happy Valley, a name that struck me as ominous tonight. Don’t be an idiot. You’re setting yourself up to be miserable. A late-model BMW was pulled up in the driveway of the ranch-style house when we arrived. “Your sister?” Jason said.

  “Cynthia always rents one when she comes to visit. I think it’s her favorite car. They may keep it reserved just for her.” I hoped that sounded like the joke I intended and not as bitter resentment. Jason laughed, so I was probably all right.

  We went in through the side door and into my mother’s kitchen, redolent with spicy smells. “Helena! Jason! I’m so glad you’re here!” my mother said, setting aside a pan covered in asparagus stalks drenched in melted butter and parmesan and embracing us both. “Why don’t you set the table, both of you? Your father’s on the patio, grilling steaks,” she told me, “and Cynthia is in the back, freshening up.”

  Of course Cynthia wouldn’t be doing any work. She was a guest. Jason and I got stacks of plates and handfuls of silverware and started setting the old walnut dining table. I reflexively straightened the tablecloth. “I didn’t think Dad was allowed to grill anymore, after the Mother’s Day Incident.”

  “He has to learn just like anyone. And he’s been practicing all summer.” My dad was good at just about everything except cooking. Why Mom, nearly a cordon bleu chef, was encouraging him to pursue the art was a mystery to me.

  My younger brother Jake came bounding up the stairs from the basement. “Hey, Hel. Hey, Jase.” He waved at us but didn’t pause on his way to the bathroom to wash up.

  “We’re the only ones doing any work,” I complained.

  “You’re my responsible child,” Mom said with a smile.

  Dad opened the sliding glass door, letting in the aroma of perfectly grilled steaks. “Food’s ready, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “It smells wonderful, Dad,” Cynthia said, emerging from the rear of the house. She’d changed into shorts and a fitted T-shirt and looked gorgeous as usual. She saw Jason and stopped. “Please tell me you’re not Jason,” she said, “because I want to steal you from my sister.”

  My jaw went rigid. Jason laughed. “Helena said you were funny,” he said. “I’m Jason, and you must be Cynthia.”

  Cynthia flicked a glance at me. “Lucky you,” she said with a tiny smile. I made myself relax. Jason wasn’t going to be swayed by her obvious flirting, and I could endure her little jabs. And the steaks smelled fantastic.

  They tasted fantastic, too. “Really good, Dad,” I said with my mouth full. Dad beamed.

  “I haven’t had anything this good in weeks,” Cynthia said. “Maybe I should come home more often.”

  “Maybe you should,” Mom said. “How’s your meeting going?” She passed me the rice pilaf and I served myself another scoop.
r />   “We start Monday. It should be incredibly boring, lots of talking, lots of posturing.”

  “You came awfully early for a Monday meeting,” I said.

  “I wanted some family time. Nothing wrong with that, is there, Hellie?”

  “Of course not,” Dad said. “We’ll have to think of things to do as a family. There’s a music festival going on downtown, or a movie. Tomorrow afternoon?”

  “I have to work then,” I said.

  “Oh, right.”

  “We can still get together. Helena won’t mind, will you, Hellie?”

  “Not at all. There’s plenty of other things we can do together later.” I felt a little relieved at the idea of not having to enjoy forced family fun. Then I felt bad. I loved spending time with my family, even if Cynthia had to be along.

  My leg buzzed with an incoming text. I reached for it, then put my hand on the table. “Sorry.”

  “Mom still has the no phones during dinner rule, huh?” Cynthia took a bite of asparagus and licked butter off her lips.

  “It’s a good rule,” I said, picking up my knife and fork. My phone buzzed again. “Sorry.”

  Cynthia turned her attention on Jason, who sat to my right. “So tell me, Jason, how long have you and Hellie been dating?”

  “Almost two months.” Jason glanced at me, smiling, and I was cheered by it.

  “And you’ve already met the fam. Brave, Hellie.”

  I smiled pleasantly at her. “Yes, considering we’ve never met Ethan. I almost wonder if he exists.”

  “Be nice, Helena.”

  “It was a joke, Mom. Of course Ethan exists. I just think, after two and a half years, it’s time we met him.”

  “Ethan’s very busy. He hasn’t taken a vacation in over three years.” Cynthia glared at me. It cheered me further.

  “I’m sure we’ll meet him eventually. Your father and I have talked about taking a trip to New York sometime later this year.”

  “You have? Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”

  “We’re not obligated to tell you our every plan, Helena.” Mom smiled at me to take away the sting. “It’s just something we were thinking about.”

  “I’d love to show you around town,” Cynthia said. “Like I’m sure Helena would do for me, if she had time.”