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A Practical Guide to Sorcery for Night-Shift Workers novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: The Warm Hands

"Winona," I said. "I can explain."

"Don't." She held up a hand with three rings on it. "I'm not asking, and I'm not telling."

"I'm sixty-three, and I like him. He's stood in front of this room for five years looking like a man waiting for a dentist."

I opened my mouth.

"I also saw the little light in his cuff in week two," she said gently.

"I drove a bus for thirty-one years, honey. You learn who's hiding something in a pocket."

My stomach dropped.

"You haven't told anyone."

"Who would I tell? The pretzel boy?" She buttoned her purple vest. "You keep that man warm. I'll cough loud if anyone comes."

Then she hugged me, hard, smelling of tea and lavender, and went out to her car.

I stood alone in the empty room, and I put my hand over my face and laughed until it hurt.

On Saturday night the rare-book room was dark except for the green lamp.

Anselm was waiting at the oak table with his sleeves rolled to the elbow.

His cuffs were open.

I'd never seen his forearms before, and I stood there looking at them.

"Where's the bead?" I said.

"At home. In a drawer."

"You're not carrying it?"

"I decided I didn't want it against me when I was with you."

He held out his hands.

"I don't think I need it for this."

I locked the door behind me.

I walked to him in my jeans and my winter coat, still cold from the car.

"You're freezing," he said, taking my face in both of his hands.

"Warm me up."

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he breathed in, and out.

I watched the calm I had taught him come over his face.

"Warm it through," he said very softly.

His palms were hot on my cheeks.

Not blazing.

Just warm, steady, a sun-warm heat that went down through my skin into the cold bones of my face.

I closed my eyes and made a small sound.

"I'm aiming at you," he said.

"I know. I can feel it."

He took off my coat.

He let it fall over the back of a chair, and ran his hands over my shoulders through my sweater.

Wherever he touched me, the heat followed.

It poured down my arms.

It settled in the small of my back.

I was lost in it inside a minute.

"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done to me," I said, shaky.

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