“It is not a deal.” Sarge came up behind me—too late—as I counted out the bills and handed them over. “And you’re a fool to think of it as such.”

The little man huffed and puffed and scurried right up to Sarge’s legs, shoving his barrel chest against the bigger man’s knees. “You are the fool, wolf boy! This one at least knows where to spend her money.”

Sarge snarled and I took a few steps back as they parried words.

“Shrimp.”

“Dog brain.”

I ignored both of them and picked up the book. I flipped open the red leather cover. I was a reader, after all, and the book called to me not just because it was Gran’s. I breathed in the scent of old paper and a hint of perfume. Lavender and sage. It smelled like Gran, and that brought a lump to my throat that I struggled to breathe around.

“Lovely,” I whispered. The first few pages were written in calligraphy, and as I flipped through the book I marveled at the precision and detail within. A thousand pages all done by hand, all done by Gran’s hand.

“Here, you sign this.” A piece of paper was shoved into my hand along with an ink-dipped quill pen.

I ______ do hereby give Oster Boon a single favor to help cover the cost of the book of Celia O’Rylee.

I filled in my name in the blank spot and signed beneath it, impressed that he’d done it up so fast. Then again, it was likely a leprechaun thing. As a part-time law clerk for Himself, I could see there was nothing funny about the paper. It was a simple contract.

He held his hand out, and the paper floated through the air to him, reminding me of that scene in The Little Mermaid where Ariel signed her voice away for legs. “Good deal. I look forward to doing business with you again.” He clenched his fist and the paper disappeared with a burst of sparkles, as if it had burned up. Yup, he was definitely the Ursula here. I could only hope that he wasn’t as bad as the sea witch in my story.

I kept my face blank, even though a slight chill rolled down my back. I mean, the last time I’d signed paperwork, the a-hole had screwed me over. That was different, right?

At least, that’s what I told myself until the bookseller smiled at me, showing off tiny fangs. When did leprechauns gain fangs?

What the hell had I just gotten myself into this time?

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