Page 14 of Fated Protector

“How’d you do that?”

“I waved my arms a lot and yelled at him,” says Jack. “Same thing you’d do with a bear.”

“I guess that’s true.” My eye catches a worn leather book, and I retrieve it from its shelf. It smells musty, but it isn’t necessarily an unpleasant smell. I wipe the cover with my bare hand and run a finger over the hand-stamped title,Madame Rue’s Creature Compendium.

“This might help us find out more about the monster from last night,” I say, holding it up for Jack to see.

He frowns at the old book. “Maybe.” He plucks it from my hand and places it on the nearest shelf. “You can look at it later. Walk the store with me; make sure there’s nothing out of place.”

He knows the store better than I do, but I circle the store anyway. Everything looks as it should be, or at least how I think it should be. Just as I return to the shelf with the compendium, the old iron bell rings. My blood freezes, and I instinctively duck behind a shelf.

“Right on time,” drawls Jack. “Stay here,cher.” He exits into the main store and returns with a man I’ve never seen before. He is absolutely enormous, even compared to Jack. He has to duck through the doorway, and when he stands upright again, the fine wisps of his blond hair brush against the ceiling.

“Anna, this is Jean-Pierre,” Jack says, clapping the man on the shoulder, though he has to stretch to reach his shoulder. If Jack’s body type is that of a burly lumberjack, then this man is Paul Bunyan himself.

“Pleasure to meet you,” says the man in a deep but gentle tone. “I knew your aunt. She was a special lady.”

“She was,” I say, craning my neck upward to meet his eye. “Thank you.”

“Jean-Pierre here is gonna make sure you’re safe today,” says Jack. “I’ve got some errands to do.”

“You got me a bodyguard?”

Jean-Pierre blushes strawberry red, and Jack chuckles. “You work with enough books to know you shouldn’t judge one by its cover. Jean-Pierre is a witch. One of the best in the city.”

“Come on, Jack,” says the giant man, toeing at the floor. “I’m not that good.”

“Who took out that group of Lutins buzzing around the Garden District last March?”

“Me,” mumbles Jean-Pierre.

Jack cups his ear. “What was that?”

“Me,” says the witch, a little louder.

“That’s right; it was you.” He grins and lets loose a friendly punch on the man’s bicep. Jean-Pierre grins down at him, but when he looks away, Jack shakes out his fist with a grimace. I bite my bottom lip to stop laughing.

“Alright, Jean-Pierre,” I say, holding out a hand for him to shake. His hand covers the entirety of mine and a bit of my wrist as well. “I’m pleased to meet you. How do you think we can make this place safer?”

“Miss Boudreaux,” he says. “I’m gonna teach you all about magical wards.”

“I have no idea what that means, but it can’t be any weirder than anything else I’ve learned this week.”

“It’s not,” assures Jack before saying in a loud stage-whisper, “Be careful with this one. She was playing around in a garbage dumpster last night. Bit of a wild streak.”

I try to mug a frown, but I can’t help it. Jack’s banter with Jean-Pierre is frankly adorable, and the bigger man’s shy sunshine lights up the whole store.

“I’ll be back tonight,” says Jack, saluting me. His gaze softens. “You’ll be safe. I promise. Jean-Pierre knows how to reach me.” And with that, he ducks through the doorway, leaving me alone with a seven-foot witch.

CHAPTER9

The back room of the magical side of the bookstore has a long oak table, simple but sturdy. Jean-Pierre strides toward it, wiping his hand along the edge before placing his dilapidated carpetbag on the top.

"That looks like Mary Poppins’s bag," I say.

Jean-Pierre gives me a small smile. "All the best magic users have carpetbags. But I don't have a talking parrot umbrella yet."

"Pity," I say, drawing up a chair with a woven thatched seat. I've seen many things in the past twenty-four hours, but actual, real live magic isn’t one of them. I want an up-close and personal view. "What are you going to do first?"

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