Kindred Bookstore Novels & Stories

He felt lighter, yes, but no less lethal. We pulled up in front of a small bookstore tucked between a café and a vintage record shop. The sign above the door read "The Gilded Page" in an elegant script. "Come on." Already stepping from the car, he rounded to my side and opened the door. I took his offered hand. "What is this?" "You'll see."

"Emily's signature? It was a simple delivery order, a routine transaction! What in the seven hells is going on now?" He slammed his fist onto a nearby table, a heavy brass sculpture rattling precariously. "Jack," Daniel snarled, "go outside and bring in that awful woman Now!”. Jack was about to leave when his phone rang. The phone rang once, twice... then Jack's eyes widened, staring at his screen. "Sir," he stammered, "it's... it's mr Edward Franklyn the ceo of Paxon Enterprises" Daniel snatched the phone from Jack's trembling hand, his eyes narrowing at the caller ID.

Raymond was pouring coffee, humming something soft under his breath, shirtless as usual, entirely too distracting. "What’s this?" I asked. He glanced over. "Read it." I unfolded the note. > Dear lovers, There is a bookstore in the village. Not just any bookstore. One where people leave pieces of themselves behind. Pages of poetry. Notes. Secrets. The owner lets you browse, read, and write your own. Consider it today’s adventure. —Mama Elsie I smiled so hard it hurt, “you planned this also right?” He nodded. --- Later That Morning The drive down was quiet.

By the time we get back to my place, I’m so horny I nearly rip my dress off. The next day, he takes me to an old bookstore that has been run by the same owner for over sixty years. She refuses to alphabetize anything, but when Damien asks her for a specific book, she knows exactly where it is. It’s cramped and crowded, full of volumes of rare old books and gorgeous hardback covers. Damien buys sme a copy of Pride and Prejudice in French.

She hesitated for a long time before gathering the courage to add, “Ms. Blythe’s always thinking about you. “She said Mr. Damon gets cold easily, Mr. Matt has chronic back pain, and Mr. Chris can’t sleep well. So she knitted a scarf for Mr. Damon, sewed a pillow for Mr. Matt, and made a music box for Mr. Chris.” Maisie took out the gifts and placed them gently on the table, wiping her eyes. “She spent so long preparing them. She was going to give them to you on her birthday, but none of you came home that day.”

Then, she slammed her cane down and pointed to the door, making it clear they needed to leave. I got the hint and opened the door, shoving them out. They didn't want to go, so I grabbed a ladle from the table and tossed it at them. They stormed off, muttering about how we were cold-hearted, ruthless monsters. As soon as they were gone, I called someone to switch the lock to an electronic one and installed a camera by the door. I even put up a sign—"No entry for Sebastian Jensen, Susan Clarke, or Alice Reed! Dogs aren't allowed either!"

“No one is sending any one to hell. We are meeting in fifteen. Reach as soon as possible.” I hung up the call. I wished that I knew what this was about but as far as I was about demons they were never going to let you know something until you really were needed to know about it. Finally we reached the bookstore. It was named beautifully. Books and Blues. Well for people who did not know the irony would not understand it but it was a good business and Hannabelle was an astute businesswoman. And I did not know but I was sure that something was up with the coffee of this house which would only mean that she had magicked the place in such a subtle manner that people flocked here for the coffee a

It took almost a minute until everything sank into the windlet’s head. “Man. Empty stomach makes me stupid,” Darrion commented. “Let’s go to the park!” the windlet grinned, trying to change the subject. Jai chuckled. He really is a bright sun. “Sure. Where’s the turn, though?” “Oh it’s there,” Darrion pointed at the turn. “Oh, there’s also a bookstore there at the corner. We should buy some newspaper and read the news.” Jai and Darrion stopped by the book store at the corner of the road. It was an average sized book store with a pyramid and rows of books displayed on the window. They entered the place and saw there were already several customers inside.

Not since I was seventeen and desperate to be anywhere that didn’t reek of my stepmother’s perfume and the judgment that clung to every hallway of the Blackwood Pack. Logan pulled the car to a slow stop, eyes flicking toward the storefront beside us. A green-painted door. Gold lettering on the glass, slightly faded but still intact: Wren & Wisp Bookshop & Café. My chest tightened. “You know this place?” I asked, voice light but brittle around the edges. Logan unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. “I didn’t know about it until recently.” I hesitated, hand still resting on my lap. “Then how—?”

All that was gone. One stupid mistake of a witch had cost them everything and I had gone and repeated the same mistake. I sighed, studying the hallway we were walking through. It was dusty and covered in cobwebs. I doubted if anyone came there. Aaron unlocked the door and kicked it open. That wasn't a good sign. The room was filthy and everything was covered in cobwebs. The broken bottles of elixirs and moldy spell books told me all I needed to know. The room had belonged to a witch.