Thursday, late August. The sky had been overcast that whole day, the clouds the colour of steel.
I was working the afternoon shift, and since there were no customers in the bookstore, I decided to kill time by arranging books in an alphabetical order. I brought the spare radio, which usually sat under the wooden register counter in the main area, to the back of the store with me, because doing anything without music playing in the background is indeed quite boring.
I was singing along to an old cheesy love song when I heard the brass door bell, fixed on the inner side of the front door, ring. I hopped to my feet and nearly fell over the stacks of scattered books on the floor. I dusted off my shorts and walked among the many bookshelves back to the main part of the bookstore.
A girl was standing at the counter, looking around with interest, taking in the cozy mess that was The Haunted Bookshop, its faded carpets, stacks of books, big display windows and carefully selected antiques.
The girl was waiting patiently. She had dark skin, and even darker wavy hair. She was wearing a yellow dress with sunflowers printed all over it, white lacy socks and black combat boots.
"Hey there, can I help you?" I asked, a bit too loudly, and she whipped around, as if I had startled her, or interrupted her internal monologue. Her eyes were wide but when she saw me, an ever helpful bookshop employee, striding towards her, she visibly relaxed and smiled warmly.
"Yes, that would be great, thank you so much." A raven black lock of hair fell over her face and she put it neatly behind her ear. "I'm looking for a book titled The Little Witch's Book of Herbs, and I was hoping to find it here. My grandma's cat ruined the only copy we had," she added in a small voice, as if apologizing for her grandma's cat unbelievably rude behaviour.
"I once had an extremely destructive iguana," I blurted so she wouldn't feel embarrassed, and to my relief she laughed, and it was one of the most beautiful sounds my ears have ever heard. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that." And she laughed some more.
I cleared my throat awkwardly and ceremoniously announced: "If you would follow me, please, I know which book you're looking for. I think I saw it somewhere over there in the back..."
She clapped her hands excitedly and, as I was trying to locate the right aisle, fell in step beside me. Piles of dusty books were towering over us, some of them tilting threateningly.
"So, tell me," whispered the girl, as we walked side by side, bringing her face closer to mine, and looking me straight in the eyes, making me blush a bit, "is this place really haunted?"
This was the last thing I expected her to say, and for a moment I just stared at her. Then I snorted and said, "Of course it isn't." I frowned at her like she'd uttered the most foolish thing in the world. "Who the hell told you that?"
"Oh, you know," she shrugged and waved a hand, "people."
"Weird people," I muttered. "To tell you the truth, I don't know anything about this place being haunted, though strange things have indeed happened here."
The girl's eyes grew wide with anticipation, and her lips stretched into a grin. "What strange things?"
"Well, for instance, four months ago an old man came in, carrying a ouija board under his arm. He wanted to know if he could host a séance in the reading room."
"The reading room? Why, of all places, did he want a séance there?"
"Apparently his wife told him to do so. His dead wife."
The girl gave a nervous chuckle.
"And last year," I continued, "a woman, without even a glance or greeting, marched right into the Occult section, and started setting books on fire."
The girl covered her mouth with her hands, shocked. "No! That's absolutely horrible."
"She kept yelling about banishing evil spirits who wanted to possess the souls of innocent readers, even as the police were taking her away. It was pretty funny."
"What did they do with her?"
"I think she had to spend that night in jail, and pay for all the books she destroyed."
"What about the owner?"
"Oh, she was pretty chill about it, actually. If that woman ever returns, I've been instructed to spray her with water, as she's the only evil spirit around here."
"Shouldn't that be holy water, then?"
"Huh," I muttered and shrugged. "I guess I'll have to check."
"Let us only hope then, that she never comes back," remarked the girl, worried.
We reached the Home and Free Time section, where the Gardening subsection was, and therefore the book we were searching for.
"Okay, here we are," I said and ran a finger along the spines, focusing on the titles on them, until I found the books. I selected a copy and handed it to the girl. She examined the cover and beamed.
"That's the one! My grandma will be so pleased," she exclaimed, and I smiled, happy to have been of help.
"Do you need anything else?"
"I don't think so, but I would love to take a look around if you don't mind."
"Not at all. Now, if you don't need me anymore, I'll be at the front desk."
At that she nodded, turned away from me and disappeared deeper into the belly of the bookstore. I walked back to the counter where the register was.
She returned twenty minutes later, her face alight with joy and glee, excitedly placing three more books she'd found on the counter top. I picked up the first two to scan them and caught a glimpse of the titles. How to talk to the wind was the first book. The second one bore the title A natural history of peoples of the sea. I frowned.
"That's odd," I said, turning the books in my hands, inspecting the covers.
"What is?" asked the girl, frowning as well.
"The titles, look at them."
The girl leaned closer to read the titles.
"Coraline and The Prague cemetery."
"No, those are not-" without finishing the sentence I looked at the covers again. The girl was right. I looked at her, completely astounded. "Didn't you see? The books had different titles!"
"Are you okay?" asked the girl, her voice full of worry.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night."
I grabbed the last book, carefully this time, since I was afraid I'd read the title wrong again. This book, though, seemed completely normal – the title, which was A garden in bloom, didn't change, it remained the same. I silently let out a small sigh of relief, and hoped the girl didn't notice how uncomfortable I felt. As soon as I put the book down, for a short instant the air around me became fragrant.
"Can you smell that?" I asked and lifted my head.
The girl looked worried again. "Smell what?"
I took a deep breath through the nose, trying to place the smell. Then I looked at her and said "Roses."
The girl inhaled sharply and looked away. "Oh, that- that's just my perfume. Yes."
"Oh," was all I managed to say. I felt stupid. For a moment I had thought the book had done something weird, when in reality it was only perfume. What was with me today? "Right. Your perfume. Of course. I'm sorry, I must have left my common sense at home today."
At these words the girl laughed again; she seemed to have brightened up, and I immediately felt better as well. I didn't know why, but I felt the need to make her laugh; it felt extremely necessary that I did that as long as she was here.
"Honestly, I have never been to a more remarkable bookshop." Then her expression turned from thrilled to mildly suspicious, and she looked me squarely in the eyes. "Tell me one thing, though, is it just me, or is this place bigger on the inside?"
"Oh," I said, waving my hand, "that's probably because of the high ceiling, and the huge windows. People mention it all the time. You wouldn't believe some of the theories certain people have come up with," I added in a lower tone.
"Ah, yes, I guess you're right," she agreed and looked up, examining the ancient wooden beams. "And, um, did you know there's a cat in here? It's sleeping in the Art section."
"Oh, you mean a chubby black one? Short legs, orange eyes?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically. "That's the one."
"Yes, that's TJ," I chuckled. "He spends most of his time there; he likes to look at books about early Dutch painters."
"Never met a bookshop cat before. Is he yours?"
"Yeah, he belongs to me."
A grumpy meow came from the depths of the bookshop. The girl looked, surprised, in the direction of the sound, then back to me and chuckled.
"Well, he doesn't belong to me," I explained, rolling my eyes, "he's his own cat, of course. But he's a friend. A companion."
She raised her eyebrows. "And he's allowed to freely wander the bookstore? Aren't you worried he'll ruin books or claw the devil out of the carpets?"
"Of course not, TJ's a very trustworthy guy. Besides, as you've noticed, he sleeps most of the time, anyway."
"Interesting. Well, good to know at least one cat knows how to behave," she said and laughed, and I laughed with her. "Have you been working here long?"
"Oh, not really, just over a year," I replied. "You got everything you came here for?"
"Yes, thanks to you," she said in a cheerful voice.
"Do you need a bag for these?" I tapped the books lightly, carefully.
"No, thanks. I'll just carry them." The girl looked at me and gave me another big smile. "Thanks again for all your help, I really appreciate it. I hope to see you again soon."
My heart skipped a beat at these words.
"Well, you could come by tomorrow," I said matter-of-factly.
The girl looked at me questioningly, the slightest crease between her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth turning up.
Whereas my mouth might as well have been the desert, so dry it was. "Because, you know, I'll be here. Selling books. And stuff."
She giggled and smiled, but didn't reply. With one final wave at me she was out the front door and out of my sight.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I snarled, smacking myself on the forehead with the palm of my hand. What were you thinking, Amanda? Now there was no way she was coming back, I was sure of it.
***
The sun had nearly set and I was in the children's section, cleaning up. A bunch of little boys had discarded their drawings on the round plastic table and left crayons all over the floor, some of them broken and even chewed on. The whole place looked like a bomb had exploded in there.
I had just collected all the tattered crayons in an old shoe box when TJ hopped up to me, meowing persistently and winding his way around my feet.
"Oh, my dear TJ, you do know damn well we spend literally all of our time together, don't you? Now, be a good cat and be patient, you'll get your belly rubs once we get home." He started chewing on my sock and tried to climb up my leg. "Honestly, what is all this fuss about?" I said sternly, shaking him off gently.
As soon as he landed on the floor, he ran away from me.
"Oh, come on, TJ, don't be like this. I didn't mean it, you know that."
I went after him, whispering his name, looking everywhere for him.
I finally found him in the biology section, waiting patiently. I walked quietly along the aisle, TJ's eyes staring squarely at me, the dying sunlight reflected in them, making him look a bit like a little cat-shaped demon.
Took you long enough, his look was saying when I stopped right in front of him.
"Oh, shut up, TJ," I murmured and rolled my eyes at him.
That was when I saw them. I crouched beside the cat for a closer look – there were petals on the floor, yellow petals, scattered there on the navy blue carpet.
"What the hell?" I said, frowning, running my fingertips over the petals. They were long and thin, soft and smooth and delicate to the touch. Like silk.
I looked at TJ and said accusingly: "TJ, have you been dragging things into the store again? You're impossible, honestly. You know very well Lumira wants this place spotless at all times."
But TJ only cocked his head to one side and stared at me some more, this time in obvious confusion. Then he looked at something behind me and I turned around and understood. The windows were closed, it couldn't have been him.
"Okay, forgive me. Who was it then? It surely wasn't me!"
I stood up and looked at the books the petals were scattered under. What We Know About Sea Monsters, Swimming With Sharks , Depths of Danger. And suddenly it clicked – the girl was here, when she was exploring the bookshop. But how did the petals get here? It didn't make any sense, none at all in fact.
I crouched again, and examined the petals more closely. I picked one up, bringing it close to my face, turning it around in my hand to see it from different angles.
Could the girl have done this? But she didn't have flowers with her, she only carried her wallet.
I had nearly lost all feeling in my legs, when suddenly it hit me – her dress.