Page 48 of She Walks with Broken Things

“One moment.” He answered.

She was already reading about monsters.

She might as well read about one who sang.

Hurried footsteps faded before there was a click of a lock. A door opened. Steps followed. Minutes until the thud of boots returned. The click came once more.

“It’s in perfect condition.”

One nod. I lifted my hand. A pen slid into my grasp.

“Here, Mr. Voss.”

My fingers found the open book. The crease. The paper. I aligned the pen and pressed down. Clipped. Careful. I wrote, then pulled away, closing the cover.

“I’ll place it on your account.”

I picked it up and turned, lifting my gaze. Familiar steps walked ahead, leading me back out of the store. The blare of horns and the rushed sound of traffic faded. I climbed into the car and sat, placing the book on the seat at my side.

Rafe climbed in, started the engine and pulled out, taking us home.

This time my body didn’t fight the sway as we drove the familiar streets back home.

I reached down once. Grazing the edge of the cover. The inscription burning in my mind.

Ink.

Paper.

The words alive in my mind.

I didn’t even track the drive, taking a heavy breath as we pulled into the driveway and slowed. Rafe said nothing about the tests, or the book as he pulled the car to a stop. I hit the seatbelt release, grabbed the book and opened my own door this time.

Boots crunched on stones.

The sun on my cheek.

I breathed deep and climbed the stairs.

Silence greeted me as I stepped inside.

No soft hum of Mrs. Reid.

No ticking of the clock.

I didn’t hear anything.

I headed along the hallway. My pulse grew louder with the faint trace of her shampoo. I counted the steps this time. Softening my steps before I stopped outside her door.

She was in there.

Quiet.

Still.

I lifted my hand. Lingered for a second—then bent and placed the book outside her door.

I left then. Letting my boots hit the floor as I made my way to the east wing.