The bell above the door tinkles alerting me to a customer, along with a gust of chill fall air. The day has been slow, like most days. I slip a ribbon into the book I've been reading and look up to the tall man who has just entered. He is very pale, so much so I wonder if he is unwell. His sandy hair is greying at the temples, and his aging face does not hide that he must have been very handsome in his prime. He now has what many people would call a distinguished look. His coat and suit are very old fashioned, but the people who come here often dress strangely.

"Can I help you find something this evening sir?" I ask. Stepping out from behind the counter and skirting around a large display of crystals.

"I believe you can." He looks at me with eyes so pale blue that I feel like they're looking through me rather than at me. He has an accent that I can't quite place, something European I think. He extends a graceful hand with long nails, and shakes mine with a firmness that is at odds with his frail appearance. "My name is Lord Nicholas DeLero. I am looking for some particularly… unique tomes." I look at him closely, judging his intent. He has a strange way of angling his face away from me while talking.

"My name is Rose. What kind of tomes specifically are you looking for?"

"Nothing that is for the general public, I am interested in rare and ancient tomes." He gives me a conspiratorial look.

"Ah." I say. He's looking for those books. "Give me a moment." I take down the open sign, lock the door, and put up the sign that reads: back in 15 minutes. I pull out a key from my front pocket of my dark green tunic dress. "Follow me." I say walking toward the back hallway. The faded wallpaper and creaky floorboards give this place the appearance of normalcy.

The main floor is a typical occult shop, filled with crystals, Wicca books, incense, and posters of chakras. This is just for show though. The real magic shop is in the basement. I lead him down the hall and unlock the basement door.

"Is there something you are looking for in particular? Most of what I have here is western European, with a little bit of Mesoamerican texts, but I recently acquired a few transcriptions of ancient Egyptian scrolls. My mother studied lycanthropy so we have many texts on werewolves. Also, I've been looking into a few Gaelic relics so we have some texts on those now." I say as we descend the stairs into the brightly lit basement.

"I am curious if you have any information on vampires." He says from behind me. "I don't have any books on them specifically. There are a few books here that reference them, or might have a chapter on them." I say turning back to him. It's like his blue eyes are almost glowing. Mage's have weird looks sometimes but this one takes the cake.

"Do you know anything about them then?" he asks, looking at me intently.

"Um, I haven't really done a lot of research into them. They're more old world, and they show up so rarely now that there isn't much demand for literature on them. My theory is they're around, but that they're all smart enough to keep out of sight. I can get in touch with some of my contacts to try to get some books sent in if you want."

"That's very kind of you." He scans a few of the books on the nearest shelf. "How did you come to own this shop?" he doesn't turn from the book he's examining.

"I inherited it from my mother when she died when I was twelve. My aunt Seraphine was the proprietor until I was old enough to take over the business for myself. It's been in my family for over two hundred years." My family of magical book lovers, hoarding and protecting magical knowledge through the generations.

"And are your family practitioners?" His finger trails over the spines of the books.

"My grandmother was, and so is my aunt, and my great grandmother was a great and powerful warlock." I'm used to new customers wanting to know my magical lineage. Heritage is very important in this small community. Which makes it even stranger that I have no idea who this man is.

He turns to me, "and you?" This is where it gets awkward.

"No, I've never shown an aptitude; neither did my mother." He gives me a strange look but goes back to perusing the shelves. I pull at the dark sleeves of my dress nervously, being the dead end in a magical family tree is a sore subject for me. My mom was the first non-magical child in the history of our family, a great disappointment.

"And can you read all of these?" he asks turning to me again.

"Most of them," I reply with a little pride. "I can read Italian, French, Latin, Ancient Sumerian, Old English, Romanian, and I'm currently working on my Gaelic."

"Impressive for someone so young." He says studying me in an intensely uncomfortable way. "And do you care for these books too?" he runs his hand down the worn leather spine of one.

"Yes, I repair them, some of them have special magical needs that have to be taken into account. If you have books in need of repair the price will depend on their condition and individual needs, but I am more than capable of caring for them."

"I have many books that might benefit from your expertise." He pulls an old alchemical text from the shelves and turns back to me "For now I will take this, but I am sure you will be seeing more of me." The way he says it is more than a little foreboding.

I ring him out for the book and instead of re-opening the shop I decide to close early, it's already 8:30 pm and I usually stay open until at least 9:30 but an early night sounds nice. The fall cold is seeping into my bones and I feel the need to spend a warm night in bed. I switch the sign to closed and pull down the metal shutters. I meander to the back hallway and up the creaky stairs to my small apartment.

That guy Nicholas was weird, not in his appearance, but in the fact that I've never seen him before. I know almost all the practitioners in the whole U.S. and most of Canada also. There aren't many, and there are even fewer magical bookstores. There's one on the West coast in L.A. and me in New York, there's also one in Mexico City, but that's pretty much it for the new world. Of coarse there are more in the rest of the world. We keep in touch, most volumes are one of a kind, and transcribing a magic book takes time and incredibly valuable and rare materials. So if someone is looking for something in particular contacting other shops is a necessity.

I open the door to my small apartment and spy Duke, lounging on his blanket in front of the window. Watching the passersby.

"Brrrppp?" He trills spying me. His giant green eyes watch me pad toward the kitchen in my socks.

"Hello Duke. Did you have a good day?" no reply, but he stretches lazily then jumps down to follow me into the kitchen; fluffy black tail raised high. I pull out some beef and vegetables and start cutting them to make a stir-fry. Duke jumps up to the table and sits, watching me.

"We had a real customer today Duke. Someone new. I wonder if aunt Seraphine would know him. Very pale, might be sick or something." Duke stares impassively as I chat to him while cooking. When I'm done I fill two bowls, one for me, and a bowl of cubed raw meat for Duke. We eat in silence; Duke isn't one for much conversation, especially when dinner is served. As I'm finishing my last bite my phone buzzes in my pocket. A picture of a golden haired middle-aged woman appears, large jeweled earrings hang from her ears and a broad smile pulls on deep laugh lines.

I answer the phone, "Aunt Seraphine! I was just thinking of you."

"Hello dear. I hope you and Duke are well." Says the warm voice from the other end.

"We were just finishing dinner. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I say wiping my mouth with my napkin.

"Unfortunately dear, I have grave news. I want you and Duke to leave the city immediately. Something terrible is about to happen. All of New York is in grave danger. Come stay with me in Phoenix for a while."

"You're back in Phoenix now?" I say ignoring the prophecies of doom. She portends disaster about once a year, it's always true, but usually something like a hurricane, or ice storm. She did foresee the 2001 terrorist attacks, but she's never prophesied anything I couldn't ride out in the apartment.

"Yes dear, it's wonderfully sunny. Please come stay here for a while. Something like I've never felt before is coming. I fear for your life."

"Oh aunt Seraphine, New York is always having disasters. I will be alright, you know the shop is safe, and Duke will protect me." I scratch his chin.

"I can't convince you then?" she sounds very sad.

"No Auntie, you know I don't want to leave New York."

"Dear, this is something terrible. Please reconsider."

"I'll think about it." I try to change the subject "Do you know a man named Nicholas DeLero? He came in today looking for books, had some kind of an European accent." There is a pause on the other end of the line.

"No I don't think I've ever heard that name. Strange. I know almost everyone; I can put out some inquiries though."

"Thanks, you should come visit soon, Duke misses you." Duke yowls loudly in the background.

"Tell him I miss him too. Take care of yourself Rose, I love you."

"I love you too Aunt Seraphine." She hangs up and I sigh, putting the phone down and absentmindedly begin to scratch Duke behind the ears.

"So Duke, should we take some extra precautions for this disaster Aunt Seraphine is predicting?" Duke tilts his head so I can scratch deeper under his ear. I pick him up and set him on my shoulders. I spend the rest of the night pulling out various protective charms from a chest under the bed and placing them in the windows and doorways. Midnight finds Duke and I finally making our way into bed. Duke curling up into his small cat bed on the foot of my bed.

"My Lord." Nicholas takes a knee before the figure on the dark throne.

"I have told you not to disturb me, have I not?" the figure growls. Two crimson eyes pierce through the darkness.

"This matter is time sensitive my lord. I beg your forgiveness." Nicholas bows his head low. A sigh.

"Get on with it then." The voice comes from the shadows.

"As you know," Nicholas looks up, still kneeling; "the castle has been without a master librarian for some time. The books are not well cared for, and my research has suffered as a result."

"Yes I know you have mentioned this more than once, but we do not have anyone with the skills to fill the role and I am preoccupied with much more important matters right now." He sounds bored and mildly annoyed with this conversation.

"That is just why I have come to you my lord. I believe I have found someone who is capable of fulfilling the role. I believe she is also an unfledged sorceress, she believes she has no power. However, I looked into her family tree and she is the youngest of Sirena's descendants." The figure on the throne shifts, leaning forward slightly. Nicholas has his attention now. "However, she will be dead in hours, if your armies continue their advance. I beg you to let me bring her here my lord."

"Go then," The voice commands. Nicholas rises, bows, and makes a hurried exit from the throne room.

"That is a name I have not heard in a long time." he says to the empty room. The castle starts to groan with movement; making a space for it's new guest.