Soft footsteps echoed from outside.
My heart stopped.
“Oliver, someone’s coming!” I hissed.
“Hide!” Oliver whispered.
I found a small space behind one of the shelves. Just before I dived into it, I saw the Grimoire lying wide open right by the door. The footsteps drew nearer.
Frack, I thought, rushing back to the book just as the door swung open.
I slammed the book shut and leaned against the table, obscuring it from view. My eyes lifted to the intruder, and I stiffened in shock.
It was Kismet.
Chapter 27
KISMET STEPPED INTO the shop slowly, her black boots clicking against the floor. Her piercing blue eyes surveyed the room until they fell on me and widened. Her lips parted in surprise, and recognition flickered in her face before her expression shifted to cool and careful apathy. As if she hadn’t meant to react when she saw me.
I stared at her, my brows furrowing. Does she know me?
“It’s you” she said quietly, pointing at me. Her voice was more high-pitched than I remembered. “The one he tortured.”
I swallowed back the shock of seeing her up close. Her face was like smooth porcelain, her eyes wide and wrinkle-free. Her blond hair was tied into an elegant bun behind her. Cold indifference masked her face. Her eyes were guarded and careful. Empty. Void of emotion.
So unlike the Kismet I knew.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “Hello again, Kismet.”
She stiffened, her chin lifting. “You know my name?” Uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
She’s like me. Trying to appear confident but uneasy on the inside.
Except for one distinction: Kismet was a criminal, and I wasn’t.
My eyes cut to the shelves in the back, but Oliver was carefully hidden. As far as Kismet was concerned, I was the only other person here.
I clasped my shaking hands behind my back, trying to appear calm and collected. “I know a lot about you.”
Kismet stepped farther into the shop, her eyes sweeping over the contents on the shelves. “You do?” Again, that air of indifference. But I knew her well. She couldn’t hide the interest in her tone. She was intrigued.
“I know your future,” I said carefully.
Her eyebrows lifted with interest. “Oh? And what will you share with me?”
“Only that you are pursuing the wrong endeavor. You shouldn’t be here.”
Kismet’s eyebrows creased over her eyes. “You’re just trying to get me to leave. You don’t know anything about me.”
She stepped closer to me, and my hands fumbled for the Grimoire behind me to keep it obscured from view.
“I know you crave the outdoors,” I said quickly. “You’re fascinated by the arts of a healer. Winter is your favorite season, and you love spicy food.”
The color drained from her already pale face, making her skin as white as paper. “How do you know all that?”
“Like I said. I know a lot about you.”
Kismet swallowed audibly. “So this endeavor will fail?”
“I don’t know everything. But something will go wrong. And you will be taken on a journey far from here. To a place that will not be kind to you.”
Why am I saying this to her?
Kismet’s ice-blue eyes widened. “Can anything be done to stop it?”
“You need to evaluate if this cause is worth it. I’m here to warn you. Make sure this is where your allegiance truly lies before you make choices that are irreversible.”
“It’s a little late for that,” Kismet whispered. Sorrow and regret tainted her eyes as her gaze dropped to the floor.
Whatever dark past she has, it’s already happened. And here she was, practically as young as me. The thought made my throat ache.
“It’s never too late, Kismet. There’s always a way.”
“This journey you speak of—will it take me away from him?” Fear and hope mingled in her expression. Her eyes lifted to meet mine.
Him who? “Yes,” I said, hoping to sound confident. Whoever she was speaking of was in this time period. If she did follow me to the future, whoever she referred to would probably be left behind.
“Then I must stay on this path,” Kismet said, her eyes hardening with resolve. “I can’t leave. I must continue with this task.”
She pushed me aside and approached the shelf next to me, her eyes scanning the ingredients.
Panic rose in my throat. If she turned around, she would see the Grimoire.
A thick gust of wind burst through the shop, whipping loose strands of my hair over my face. My skirt billowed around me, and I squinted against the storm. My hands clutched at the Grimoire as the wind flipped its pages.
A warm hand found mine and tugged.
Oliver.
With my free hand, I lifted the Grimoire, cradling it against my chest. The wind was so fierce that I could no longer see Kismet, but I heard her shout something.
I gripped Oliver’s fingers tightly as he pulled me out of the shop. The wind vanished as the door shut behind us, though through the shop window, I saw a flurry of objects flying around, obscuring Kismet from view. Oliver led me down the street, and the whistling wind faded and then died.
Oliver pulled me into a narrow alley and pushed me against the wall of a building, his chest pressed against mine. My breath caught in my throat.
Oliver grunted quietly, and a heavy thunk sounded just behind him. I glanced around, eyes wide, and found a solid wall of rock pressed against his back, completely concealing us from view. It was as if he had magically grown a huge boulder on his back, covering us like a shield.
Realizing his intention, I set the Grimoire at my feet. I flattened my back against the wall and pulled him closer until his nose brushed against my hair. Then we waited, our panicked breaths mingling.
Frantic footsteps echoed down the street. They drew nearer and then stopped.
My heart hammered against my chest. My eyes found Oliver’s, and our gazes locked, our expressions equally nervous. I felt his heartbeat against my chest.
Kismet’s footsteps faded as she hurried down the street. The clicking of her heels grew more
