The City of Crows by Bethany Lovejoy (great books to read .txt) 📕

it jutted out of it like pins. Light music, a relative of elevator tunes but a distant one, rang through the air, filling the time. Somehow I got the feeling that said music only irritated her further.

The inside was, predictably, odd. Creaky, grey wooden floors, thick multicolored rugs, and lighting that was far more decoration than utility. A bundle of dried herbs hung near the door, brushing against Leo’s head as he ducked into the shop; sage, dill, and thyme; a typical blend used by elderly witches to ward off evil spirits. A few more items served to hint at the occupant’s age: a large cuckoo clock, the body of a stuffed magpie, and mirrored balls of every size; either the owners were witches or very well versed in the history of witchcraft. Honestly, it looked like one of my mother’s colleagues’ offices at the university, old maps hanging from the walls, a mirror turned backward, and burnt down candles on nearly every surface. The only thing that reeked of new-age magic was the young woman at the counter, her feet resting atop the aged wood with a sort of devil may care attitude that was almost enviable. The yoga pants on her legs very loudly proclaimed her to not be of that generation unless she was a very eccentric young witch.

The pop of her bubblegum and irritated clearing of her throat only served to support my theory. “Appointment only,” she reiterated boredly, not bothering to look up from her magazine. “Read the sign.”

My eyes narrowed, an exasperated sigh escaping me as I entered the shop, Leo trailing behind me. Leave it to him to become distracted by the array of artifacts. “Could we make an appointment here? There’s no instructions for how to book one.” I gestured towards the window, indicating the large piece of paper that covered it, not a number in sight.

“It’s on the sign,” the young woman insisted, not even bothering to look up.

“It’s not on the sign,” I informed her.

“Not my problem,” she responded, lazily flipping a page. “If you don’t know how to book an appointment, then you just won’t get one. Simple.”

“That’s not--” My voice raised, irritation climbing with it. “Listen--”

“Landon sent us,” Leo interrupted, peering over my shoulder. Finally, he’d had his fill of the room and decided to interact. Good, considering the fact that he was the only reason we were here, to begin with. Seeing how the girl didn’t pay him any heed, however, he continued. “She’s Lyra, Lyra Wynne, and I’m Leo Hoang. Any of that ring any bells?”

The girl lowered her magazine, revealing startling blue eyes. For a moment, I thought that meant something, that we’d finally broken through to her. Instead, she only did so to pointedly roll her eyes where we could see them. “Congrats on the names; I don’t care. No appointment, no entrance. Learn to read signs.” She raised her magazine once more, ignoring us once again; I just couldn’t handle it.

Honestly, I wanted to go home. Leo, however, would not be swayed. His hand smacked down on her desk, the hard sound echoing through the shop. It was uncharacteristic, not something I ever thought I’d see the artist do. And yet, his steeled eyes were full of purpose.

And it worked.

Not with her, of course. She was an unmovable fource, and she couldn’t be bothered to care about us. But someone else appeared, a face that seemed familiar but not quite peeked out from behind the curtains. Reddened, frizzy hair, paper-like skin, and stunning blue eyes. She echoed someone else, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Try as I might, I couldn’t put into words who she reminded me of before her body shuffled out onto the shop floor.

“Anastasia,” the woman crowed, pulling a pair of wire-framed glasses from her pocket and beginning to rub at the lenses. “What did I tell you about scaring off the customers? You really must learn to be more pleasant. At the very least, hand them the cards so that your sister can book them an appointment later. It’s hardly a business if we don’t have any clients,” she tsked, holding her glasses up to the light so that she could be assured that there was no dust on them. “I’m sorry about my granddaughter,” the woman sighed, raising her glasses to her eyes, “she really is quite the handful--”

No sooner had her glasses neared her eyes then she dropped them, the frames clattering to the floor. She didn’t attempt to pick them up, instead gaping, her mouth wide open as she shuffled out from behind the desk, further and further away from the heavy curtains leading to the back room. Her eyes flittered from Leo to me, then back to Leo again, wrinkled skin doing little to hide her amazement.

“You…” Her voice carried, eyes lingering on the man. Stooping to pick up her glasses once more, she placed them crookedly on her nose, shuffling even closer. With her short stature and the robes trailing behind her, she looked anything but human. “The boy… and, her.” The look on her face did not suggest that she was impressed with me.

Leo nodded, an easy smile on his face. “You’re far more successful than I’d assumed, ma’am. A shop in this district and high recommendations from Landon; you are quite extraordinary.”

If it were possible for her smile to spread wider than his, it did. “And you, such a kind fellow. I watched you, though I was not there. I saw you help that woman, even though the girl at the desk told you not to. I am so pleased to see you once more, whatever is it that you need?” She reached forward for him, taking his hand in hers and beaming upward at him. “No, don’t tell me. I can see it already. You’ve come here for me.” An obvious statement, he was in her shop. I doubted that any other psychics worked there.

“Yes,” Leo nodded frantically,