There was a predatory glint in Beck’s eyes. His smile was smug.
Nora walked to the readers’ circle and took a seat in her favorite chair. Her posture was as regal as a queen’s.
Indicating the chair across from her, she said, “Let’s get down to business.”
Chapter 18
Nothing has changed since Little Red Riding Hood faced the big bad wolf. What frightens us today is exactly the same sort of thing that frightened us yesterday. It’s just a different wolf.
—Alfred Hitchcock
Nora put her hand on the box that held Juliana’s notebook.
“I don’t come across materials this old very often,” she said. “Would you like to hear about the book’s provenance?”
A real collector would want to learn as much as possible about an item he hoped to purchase, and since Wolf Beck was playing a part, he said yes.
“Mind if I take a look while you talk?” he asked.
If Nora had her way, he’d never touch the book again, but she removed the box lid, sat back in her chair, and waited.
Though Beck’s face was a blank mask, Nora caught the zealous gleam in his eyes. His long, vampiric fingers trembled with eagerness. This wasn’t a man seeing a rare and valuable book for the first time. This was a hunter claiming his trophy.
“Oh,” Nora cried. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if you’d like to wash before handling the book.”
Beck didn’t so much as glance at her. “My hands are clean.”
Liar! Nora silently screamed.
Lifting the book from its bed of tissue, Beck settled it on his lap. He stroked the cover as if he were petting a cat before cradling the spine between his legs and opening to the page bearing Juliana’s name.
Nora stared at his hands as he turned pages. She saw those long, deft fingers offering Bren a burger made of beef or holding a jar of mustard powder in front of Celeste’s face once the pain from the wolfsbane poisoning had become acute. Those hands had smashed and ripped and broken things in Bren’s house and Celeste’s apartment. They’d been ruthless in their search for Juliana’s book.
Wolf Beck had destroyed so much for the chance to trick a collector into paying ridiculous amounts of money for a fake grimoire. He’d killed two women so he could line his pockets.
Stay focused. You can’t let your emotions take over.
Nora took a deep breath and said, “She was a healer.”
Her voice startled Beck out of his own thoughts and he shot Nora a questioning look. “Who was? Juliana Leopold?”
“Her, and the three writers succeeding her. All healers. This notebook is a compilation of herbal remedies. Except for the last two pages, of course. Those pages are why you’re here.” Nora cocked her head. “And so quickly too. You must not have had to travel far.”
“No,” said Beck, immediately returning his attention to the book.
When he reached the group of stained pages, he made his first mistake. He skipped over them, turning directly to the protection ritual near the end. A bona fide collector would examine every page. Even if they’d been told that only the last two pages differed from the rest, a real collector would be compelled to verify this information. But Beck ignored over twenty pages because he already knew they were illegible. He knew because he’d seen them before.
Beck’s gaze rested on the protection spell. There was no need for him to look through the rest of the book. He was fully aware that the remaining pages were blank.
“Can you decipher that?” Nora asked, gesturing at the protection spell.
“Well enough,” Beck answered.
Nora wasn’t going to get anything out of him by being courteous or tactful. It was time to rattle Beck’s cage.
“I’m guessing this book appeals to you on multiple levels,” she said, smiling coyly. “In addition to your interest in the occult, you must have an affinity for plants.”
A flicker of uncertainty passed across Beck’s face. “What makes you say that?”
Nora kept smiling. “Monkshood81? Isn’t that another name for wolfsbane?”
Beck’s stare was sharp enough to pierce flesh, but Nora didn’t flinch.
“When I first saw your username, I didn’t know much about the plant. I do now.” She folded her hands daintily over her crossed legs and studied Beck as if he were a butterfly under glass. “Wolfsbane is beautiful, but deadly. Does that description apply to you as well?”
“This isn’t a blind date.” Beck’s voice was a low growl. “I’m not here to share personal information with you. I’m here for this book, which is exactly what I hoped it would be. I have a long drive ahead of me, so I’m going to pay you. After that, I’m leaving.”