The Conjuring Man, page 40
He waited as Pixel absently flipped through Word Nerds’ meager selection, trying to resist the magnetic pull she seemed to exert on his eyes. Most of the books Liam had chosen personally, as Clark hadn’t wanted to deal with it, and the home office didn’t have any direction on the matter other than not to tie up too much money in slow moving titles. Liam tried to balance the few books he could stock between what he felt were the best source material, and what seemed to be the most recommended by other pagans. Gone were the days of shelves upon shelves stocked with a deep selection of titles; now it was mostly top sellers, used textbooks, and a café in an attempt to keep from getting buried by online sellers.
“Do you have any copies of the Mabinogion?” Pixel asked without looking up from the book she was leafing through. Despite her flighty, energetic demeanor, she seemed to be assessing the books seriously.
“Next aisle in the classical literature, top shelf on the left all the way at the end.” Even though the most recent addition to the shelf was six months old, Liam could have rattled off the contents of the shelf in order. He had a knack for memorizing anything he read, a talent Liam’s father had frequently reminded him was squandered.
Pixel closed the book in her hands and carried it to the next aisle, following Liam’s directions. “Right where you said.” She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the books and Liam caught himself watching her stretch. “You have a good memory.”
Liam scanned the store for other customers in need of help, in part to force himself to look away, and in part because it was what he should be doing. The tall shelves and claustrophobic aisles made it difficult to see everywhere, but from what he could see by looking down the aisles, it was quiet, typical for the middle of a weekday. A few regulars were in the café, and a handful of other customers perused the magazine and best-seller racks. He shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt that the books are supposed to be in a certain order, but yeah, I’m pretty good at remembering things.”
“So you must have done pretty well in school.”
“For all the good it did me,” Liam replied. His grades had actually been excellent, despite his lack of focus. Rote memory had been a useful talent in school, but he had changed majors three times. Now, years later, he was an assistant manager in a small Midwest bookstore.
“What did you go to school for?” Pixel paged through one of the copies of the Mabinogion, rocking on the balls of her feet as she read.
“History with a minor in theology, which doesn’t do you much good unless you want to be a teacher.” Liam still remembered his father’s disappointment over finally settling on a liberal arts degree. His father died before Liam could find out if graduating with a degree would have assuaged any of his disappointment. “I actually thought about it, but I didn’t want to deal with parents.”
Pixel looked up from the book, the smirk had returned. “I bet you would be good with kids.”
“Yeah, I did an after-school Spanish class when I was in college. That’s when I figured out parents could be a pain in the ass.” Liam tried to find an excuse not to look at her without seeming awkward or rude. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she had an honest-to-goodness spell on her, which even with his beliefs was a stretch. Magic and spells were an analogy for prayer and requesting divine intervention, not something out of one of the fantasy books on the other side of the store.
“How many languages do you speak?”
Despite her friendly tone, Liam felt as if he was in an interview. “English, passable Spanish and Latin, a smattering of a few other languages.” Being able to memorize words was one thing, but it didn’t make up for a lack of practice or his tendency to get distracted by something else a few weeks later. “I can read better than speak.”
“Do you know who Cathbad was?” Pixel closed the book, turning it over and reading the back of the jacket.
“He’d be in the Ulster Cycle, not the Mabinogion. Assuming you mean the mythological druid and not one of the neo-pagans who have taken on the name as a handle.” Liam knew some pagans got their nose bent out of shape when he referred to their adopted ‘craft’ moniker as a handle, which did nothing to deter him. He always found the notion of using a mythological figure’s name a bit gauche, and using a god’s name pretentious and asking for trouble, but there were those in the pagan community who went around calling themselves Loki or Morrigan.
Pixel looked up, and for a second Liam thought her eyes had the strange glow again, then she smiled and wrinkled her nose in amusement. “I know that.” She added the copy of the Mabinogion to the other book in her hand, a fairly serious treatise on historical references to druids and the Celtic cultures associated with those references. “I’ll take these.”
“Great, Kyle can ring you out up front.” Liam nodded toward the cash register. Even now Kyle was trying to catch a glimpse of Pixel from the counter. A tattooed and pierced twenty-something who stuck around after college, Kyle relished the chance to talk to women from the nearby colleges, trying to get a phone number or app handle, whatever it was kids these days used to track each other down. Liam was sure Kyle had already noticed Pixel’s tattoos and would use them to start a conversation.
Pixel glanced toward the front of the store, prompting Kyle to suddenly feign disinterest. She turned back, the corner of her mouth crooked up.
“The tatted kid who’s been checking me out?” she asked, obviously referring to Kyle’s tribal sleeve covering his left arm. Liam thought it was amusing that she called Kyle a kid, considering he was probably a couple of years older. Pixel’s eyes went to Liam’s bicep. “What’s your tattoo?”
Liam glanced down to where the edge of blue Celtic knotwork was peeking out from under his shirtsleeve on his right arm. Normally it wasn’t visible unless he reached for something. “Just some Celtic stuff.”
Pixel reached out and pushed up the sleeve, exposing a knotwork band with a string of Ogham above it. Liam tried to ignore how warm her hand felt on his bicep as her finger traced the line of Ogham. “Gods, Spirits, Ancestors.”
“You know Ogham and Irish.” Liam was mildly impressed. The words of his tattoo were not only in the ancient Celtic alphabet, the words themselves were in Irish, albeit modern Irish. While it was possible someone had told her in advance about his tattoo, hardly anyone knew about it. Maybe she was a serious seeker, especially if she could read Ogham. “Are you Irish?”
“Technically I’m Welsh, but I’ve studied the other Celtic cultures.” She seemed intent on the ivy that formed the upper border of the tattoo. “How about you? Are you Irish?”
“There’s probably some in the Euromix of my family’s background. They came to the states before the First World War.” Liam tried to think of how to gracefully end the conversation, mentally shoving aside the part of his mind looking for excuses to keep talking to her. He’d already directed her to the check out, and he hadn’t meant to start another topic by bringing up family history, but it seemed a safer topic than asking about her tattoo. From Kyle it might have sounded like a casual pick up line, but from someone as old as Liam, it would have probably sounded a bit creepy.
Pixel finally withdrew her hand from his arm. “Well, I suppose I should let you get back to work before your boss comes back around.”
“Probably a good idea.” Liam gave her a polite smile.
“If I want to talk about druids some more, can I get a hold of you?” She pulled a cell phone from behind her back.
“Why don’t I give you my e-mail address?” If this was some sort of prank, he wasn’t going to do the whole ‘can I get your number’ routine, and if it wasn’t, e-mail would work just as well. Granted, he would have to remember to check it, something he only did sporadically. He rattled off his e-mail address, making a mental note to check it in a few days. If Pixel was disappointed when he didn’t offer his phone number, she didn’t show it.
“I’ll see you around, Liam.” She turned and bounced toward the front, her floral perfume taking a few moments to fade.
Liam caught himself watching and turned away, returning to the cart of books he had abandoned. Without looking, he picked up the book he had set down and went to its location on the shelves. After several minutes Kyle rounded the corner.
“Dude, the girl with the purple hair was hot!” Kyle may have thought he was whispering, but his excitement countered any discretion in his volume. Fortunately no customers were nearby.
“She was cute,” Liam conceded, continuing to stock the books. Now that she was gone, the buzzing in his mind faded, and he could think more rationally, though the memory of her scent lingered.
“Cute? Dude, when she was checking out your ink, you should have asked to see hers!” Kyle was grinning like a kid who had opened a Christmas present. “Did you see it? I wonder how far down it went?”
“If I was your age, not 20 pounds overweight, and not in the place I worked, sure. But I’m not, I am, and I was.” Youth was wasted on the young, Liam thought.
Kyle mock punched Liam’s shoulder. “But you got her number.”
Liam shook his head. “I’m too old for that kind of nonsense, I’ll leave that to you kids.”
Kyle looked confused. “I was going to, but I kind of forgot. I was going to ask her about her tattoo, then next thing I knew she was asking about your schedule, and when you’d be here next.”
Liam paused, books still in his hand. The suspicious voice flared in the back of his mind. “What did you tell her?”
Kyle shrugged. “I think I said you were off the next couple of days. Dude, she’s totally into you.”
Liam snorted, shelving the books. “She came here to pick my brains, not get picked up. Someone probably referred her to me.”
“That sucks.” Kyle sounded disappointed. “I thought she was more interested in you than the books.”
“Knox, aren’t you done with those books yet?” Clark stomped down the aisle leading from the coffee bar down the middle of the store. “And Kyle, finish that display up front between helping customers, don’t hang out back here gossiping.” The manager disappeared into his office.
Liam sighed. “Thank the gods I have the next couple of days off.”
Christopher G. Nuttall, The Conjuring Man
