I was bent over, reading the instructions for the set of problems Finn was working on, trying to pinpoint where he’d gone wrong, when there was an odd sound from the front of the store. At my side, Finn went completely still, like a rabbit hoping the fox wouldn’t notice him.

  Sometimes I thought moving from Silver Lake to Haven Hollow was the best decision I’d ever made. We had a home here now, and I didn’t just mean a home in the old farmhouse or my store, but a home in the community. Among all the paranormal species that called the Hollow their home (witches, werewolves, ghosts and vampires,) one potion-brewing Gypsy Traveler and her son fit right in.

  But other times, when the danger was rising, and the darker side of magic spread its wings over Haven Hollow, I wondered if moving here had been the right choice for Finn.

  Finn wasn’t exactly a normal (or mundane, as we called ordinary humans) kid; he had Gypsy blood in him, after all. But his gift for reading people and being able to detect when someone was telling a lie couldn’t protect him when the hexes and fangs started flying. He’d been through so much since we’d moved to the Hollow. He’d been kidnapped by Faeries, come face to face with actual monsters, and been terrified when he’d caught sight of Roscoe peering through his bedroom window. His second-floor bedroom window. That last situation still made him nervous about being home without me after dark, hence the makeshift homework desk in the shop’s back room.

  The only thing that kept the guilt from flattening me under its weight was that our lives had never exactly been bereft of magical nonsense, even when we still lived in California. Heck, the reason we’d left Silver Lake in the first place was due to a violent poltergeist haunting our house. It just figured I’d accidentally move us to a supernatural hot spot.

  I squeezed Finn’s shoulder, both to give him comfort and to let him know I’d heard the sound too. The odd, muted scuffling had me on edge, especially since the bell hadn’t rung, which meant no one had entered the store. No one alive, anyway.

  The weird sound echoed through the store again and I took a tentative step towards the doorway that led back into the store.

  Finn swallowed hard enough that I could hear it and I turned to look at him as he peered up at me, blue eyes wide. He looked much younger than his thirteen years all of a sudden, young and scared enough to hurt my heart.

  “Do you have to go see what it is?”

  Part of me desperately wanted to say ‘no’, if it would wipe that look off his face. I wanted to assure him I didn’t have to go anywhere, and that we could just hunker down right there in the back room until whatever or whoever it was went away. But the other part of me wanted to prove to him that not every unexpected sound or shadow was something to be afraid of. I didn’t want him to live his life that way—always afraid of whatever was coming next.

  That was no way to live at all.

  “I’m sure it’s just someone coming to buy some potions,” I managed with a smile.

  Finn smiled back but didn’t look in the least bit convinced. Even though I was pretty sure the sound was nothing to worry about, or at least that’s what I was currently telling myself, I still grabbed some of my defensive potions on the walk to the front counter, some Uncrossing Oil, and a vial of Fiery Command Oil too, just in case.

  There was no one in the shop, but just as I was about to turn around and make my way back to Finn, the noise sounded again—the same dry, scraping sound, but this time it didn’t appear to be coming from inside the store. Instead, I could have sworn it was just outside the door.

  I took a breath, schooled my face into a neutral but welcoming expression, and started for the front door. Then I tugged the door open, the bells giving their cheerful little tinkle, and found—

  Nothing.

  There was no one outside the store and no one inside it. The only thing that greeted me was a dark and empty street and an equally dark and empty walkway leading up and down Main Street. I gripped the doorframe with my free hand, leaning out to crane my head around so I could peer up and down the road.

  Yep, the street was deserted. I couldn’t spot a single person.

  I almost jumped out of my skin when the sound came again, this time from down at my feet. I immediately glanced down and there, lying on the pavement, was a leather-bound book.

  Chapter Two

  Startled, I blinked and then frowned down at the black, leather book that was maybe two feet tall and one foot wide. Like the size of a big cat or a small dog.

  What the heck was a book doing on the sidewalk in front of my store?

  And it wasn’t just some commonplace mass market paperback, or even a hardcover with a glossy dust jacket. This was a gorgeously embossed leather-bound tome, with thick cream-colored pages and a red ribbon bookmark stitched right into the spine. And its pages were plentiful—the thing was probably just as thick as it was long.

  Had someone just tossed it on my doorstep? But that didn’t seem likely—books like this one weren’t exactly commonplace and it looked—old. And expensive. How weird that someone would have just thrown it away.

  If that’s what happened…

  The wind rustling through the book’s pages sounded familiar—it was the strange sound Finn and I had heard earlier, that weird dry whisper. And yet, even as I thought about it, the whole notion struck me as impossible. Finn and I should never have been able to hear the rustle of the book’s pages in the first place—there was no way we could have when we were inside, at the far end of the store, with all the doors closed, and the book was… out here.

  Things that make you go hmm…

  Regardless, I shrugged and bent down to pick the book up, figuring I couldn’t just leave it out here where it was bound to get ruined.

  But it moved.

  On its own.

  I almost jumped out of my skin.

  The whole massive tome tottered forward under its own power, floating a few inches off the ground, the red satin bookmark flapping merrily out behind it, like the tail of an excited dog. I stared at it, open mouthed. A dog seemed like an appropriate comparison, since the entire volume looked to be somewhere between a beagle and a terrier, size wise. And with the way it kept bending this way and that, I could have sworn it was… wagging its… bookmark? It started for the front door to my shop and then paused and sort of looked back at me (if it had a face), as if waiting for me to open the door, clearly intent on inviting itself inside the warm shop like a stray making itself at home.

  I opened the door and wouldn’t you know it, the leather book immediately entered and, with all the wiggling it was doing, seemed excited about it.

  “Mom?” Finn peered around the corner of the back-room’s doorjamb. His freckles stood out like ink on his pale cheeks. “Is everything okay?” Then he eyed the book, which now appeared to be sniffing my shelves. “What is that?”

  I bent down and reached out cautiously to pick the book up. I was pretty sure it couldn’t bite; it didn’t have any visible teeth, but it also didn’t have any visible feet and could obviously move, so who knew? To my surprise, the moment I stretched out my hands to lift it, the book leapt into my arms, its bookmark wagging the whole time like an overly enthusiastic dog.

  It nuzzled into my chest as I turned to face Finn, who looked at me with wide and concerned eyes. “It’s a book,” I said, feeling a little silly about stating the obvious, especially when this thing was no normal book.

  Finn stepped out of the backroom, his face alight with curiosity as the concern in his eyes bled away, to be replaced with interest. Now there was no fear, no tight, pinched look around his eyes as he walked over to me. He laughed when he saw the book wriggling around in my arms, a bright happy burst of sound that seemed to attract the book’s attention immediately. It almost cocked one end of itself the way a dog would when hearing a startling sound.

  And then the book seemed determined to free itself from my arm’s and almost reached out towards Finn. He gave me a surprised expression but took the steps that separated us and then reached out and stroked his fingers down the book’s spine. The book arched, rustling its pages as the bookmark wagged in a very happy way. The book appeared to be enjoying the attention like, dare I say it, a real dog.

  The grin Finn flashed me was so wide, it almost reached his ears.

  “It’s like a dog.” He turned the full force of that smile on me, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. It was probably the first time he’d genuinely smiled in a couple weeks.

  “Kind of… actually… just like a dog,” I answered with a quick nod as I frowned down at the book, trying to figure out what in the world could have animated it.

  The book seemed intent on jumping from my arms into Finn’s, but I kept a hold of it, because I didn’t trust it. Who knew where the thing had come from, who had enchanted it, or why?

  “Can we keep it, Mom?”

  Finn’s blue eyes were so wide, so hopeful, that I wanted to say yes. I wanted to promise anything to keep that look on his face, but…

  “We need to know where it came from first, monkey.”

  Finn was so enraptured with the book, he didn’t even complain about the nickname I’d called him since he was a baby and which was decidedly not cool for a now thirteen-year-old.

  A little of the light in his eyes dimmed, but Finn kept stroking the book’s spine, much to its obvious enjoyment. He laughed and then looked up at me and that yearning expression was back in his eyes.

  “The Hollow is full of magic, Mom, so maybe the book just kind of happened, and it’s looking for a home now.”

  “It could also belong to someone,” I explained as gently as I could. “Enchanting a book would be easy for a witch. Maybe Wanda, Betanya, Olga or Astrid bespelled it.”

  “But why would they do that?”

  Good question and not one I had an answer for. I told him as much.

  “Hmm,” Finn responded and frowned as he thought about it and apparently, didn’t like the possibility. “Then we can’t keep it?”

  “It’s not ours to keep, Finn.”

  His face fell, and a fresh surge of guilt welled up within me. Yes, I was soft enough that I could have been considered a marshmallow, but I wanted that smile back.

  “How about this—we can take the book home with us until we find it’s rightful owner—if it has a rightful owner.”

  Finn whooped and threw his arms around me in the first enthusiastic hug I’d had from him in weeks. “You’re the best, Mom! Just wait until Piggy meets him!”

  Piggy was the stuffed pig that Wanda had animated into a live stuffed-animal pig which then became a real-life talking pig, something I was still trying to deal with.

  “How are you sure it’s a ‘him’?” I asked as the book wiggled in my arms, its red ribbon wriggling wildly.

  Finn stepped back and studied the book, crinkling up one corner of his mouth as he did so. “I don’t know, it just seems like a him.”

  The book responded by finally managing to squirm out of my arms and leaping for Finn, who caught it with a burst of laughter. My heart clenched in my chest for a breathless moment as I wondered if this thing was even safe? Had I just brought something dangerous inside my shop? It hadn’t felt like dark magic, but some curses were tricky like that, wrapped up in something that looked harmless—like a book dog.

  The book squirmed around in Finn’s arms, paper rustling with excitement, and then it leaned up to bump its spine gently against Finn’s chin. It looked like a puppy giving kisses, and it must have felt similar, judging by Finn’s giggling.

  I relaxed, bracing one hand on the shop counter as I watched them. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as the book wriggled around as if begging for attention, its red satin bookmark of a tail wagging all the while.

  At least a book would take less effort and maintenance than a real dog.

  A thought hit me then, and I pursed my lips. “What in the world do you feed a book?”

  ***

  After the excitement of the book’s appearance, I figured that was my cue to close up shop and head home for the evening. Finn held the book in his lap the whole drive home, pointing out the shops we passed like he was showing it around.

  “That’s Sweeter Haunts. It’s the best candy store in the world. It’s Halloween all year in there,” he said, pointing out the window at the orange and black awning of the store as the book pawed the window and actually appeared to be looking in the direction Finn was pointing. “And that’s Stomper’s Creamery. They have really good ice cream. And it’s run by a centaur—that’s a half-man, half-horse.”

  I couldn’t stop smiling, listening to Finn’s running commentary. He sounded like he was talking to a friend who was new to town. A terrible, selfish little part of me hoped we didn’t find the book’s owner—so I wouldn’t have to take this happiness away from Finn. That maybe, just maybe, he could keep this joyful little piece of magic which would, in turn, keep that happy smile on his face. He’d seen so much of the terrible things the supernatural was capable of; poltergeists, evil Faeries, murderous vampires. I wanted him to see something good, to remind him that the scary stuff wasn’t all there was.

  Since Finn had finished most of his homework at the store, once we were home, he settled into the couch to play some video games before dinner—he was currently obsessed with beating some pirate treasure game that was actually pretty fun to watch. The book immediately settled in next to him, nudging and rustling its pages, like a pet begging for attention.

  Finn put down his controller with a laugh. “What’s the matter? You want to play?”

  The book immediately flipped over onto its spine, its pages falling open like an ordinary hardcover. It went totally still then, lying open on the couch.

  Finn leaned forward, examining the book’s pages.

  I walked by, heading for the kitchen to make some calls, but wanting to make sure the book wasn’t going to reveal something it shouldn’t, I glanced down and realized the pages were all blank white. Hmm, so it was some sort of journal, maybe?

  Finn was still looking at the pages, his brow wrinkling up like he was reading text, but there weren’t any words on the pages, not even a hint of ink. Maybe he was disappointed there wasn’t something more interesting, but even a blank book that acted like a dog was pretty neat in my books, no pun intended.

  “What are you going to call him?” I asked Finn, just as Piggy walked around the corner and then took the ramp up to the couch we’d created for him so he could easily sit beside Finn. As I mentioned, Piggy had once been a stuffed animal, then was an animated stuffed animal, but he was now a real pig—pink and about the size of a pot-bellied pig. Only, unlike an ordinary pot-bellied pig, he could talk.

  “What’s that?” Piggy asked.

  “That’s our new friend,” Finn answered as he smiled broadly at Piggy who circled a few times, grunting at his blanket before he got it into the position he wanted and then hefted his girth into the center of it.

  “What’s its name?” Piggy asked.

  Finn was quiet for a few seconds and then smiled. “His name is Vellum.” Then he nodded, as if pleased with his decision. I thought it was a pretty fantastic name for a book-dog, myself.

  “William,” Piggy repeated as Finn giggled. Even though Piggy could talk, Wanda hadn’t exactly magicked him with much intelligence. But he was sweet and all he cared about was Finn so we had that in common. Piggy then made a little oink before closing his eyes and promptly falling asleep, snoring as soon as he did.

  I settled into the kitchen and dialed Wanda’s house. I was still hoping there was an easy, harmless explanation for the strange appearance of Vellum, the Book. Maybe Wanda’s Blood Witch powers had gone wonky again? Even though Wanda wasn’t technically a Blood Witch any longer, as her connection to Lorcan had been broken when another vampire bit her, her magic was still touched by darkness.

  The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up. I realized belatedly that she was probably out on a date with Lorcan. So, I hung up, figuring I’d just drop by her store, Wanda’s Witchery, in the morning, before work.

  A knock at the front door made me jump and as I got up to find out who it could be, the chair scraping against the old hardwood floors echoed through my ears. After a moment of confusion as to who would be showing up at dinner time, a wave of frantic guilt washed over me when I remembered.

  I had a date, and I’d completely forgotten about it.

  Chapter Three

  I had a date with my best friend, Marty.

  Well, I guess Marty wasn’t so much my best friend any longer—he was actually now my boyfriend, even if I still hadn’t fully gotten used to the title. But we’d been dating for a couple months now, so ‘boyfriend’ it was.

  Thank goodness I’d already asked Bailey to come over and watch Finn for the evening, otherwise I didn’t know what I would have done. In the rush of excitement about the strange book, and trying to figure out where it had come from, I’d totally forgotten all about my date with Marty.

  I winced, chewing on my lower lip as I hurried for the door and then glanced down at my less than attractive outfit—jeans and a long-sleeved tee with spots from potion-brewing all over it.

  I wrenched the door open, so hard I almost lost my grip on it, to find Marty and Bailey waiting on the stoop. Bailey smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling up.

  “Wow, Poppy, you sure know how to dress up for a guy,” she said with a laugh as she elbowed Marty in the ribs and then walked herself inside.

  “I know I look terrible,” I started, feeling equally terrible about forgetting our date. “I’ll just go change quickly.”

  “You always look beautiful to me,” Marty answered as he leaned in to give me a kiss and I unintentionally turned my head, gifting him with my cheek.

  To make me feel even worse, Marty had dressed up, forgoing his usual funny slogan shirt and jeans for slacks and a shirt with a collar under a very nice sweater. But if my clothing bothered him, he didn’t give any sign of it. He just swooped in, arms open, with an excited, “Hiya, Pops!”