Chapter One

The serenity of the empty bookstore was rattled by my mother's entrance.

"Creature?" she called out, banging the front door, its brass chimes clattering. "Are you here? Awful Thing?"

"Ye-es," I called out from the shop's back room.

"Lola, where are you?"

"Here in the office, Mom. Hold on."

"Well, don't keep me waiting. Did you get my message about those copies I wanted? Are they ready? The cab's waiting at the curb."

Juana Sanchez stood in the middle of the store, her long silver hair glinting in the brandy-colored shadows, a duffel bag slung on one arm, her tweed cape flicking behind her meaty shoulders. She began impatiently humming an off-key tune while I put a third edition of Jules Verne's Mysterious Island down onto my desk. Being slim-boned and curly-haired, I don't favor my mother much, except in my taste for unusual clothing. I gathered up my western-style petticoat, and with my old red Patsy Cline boots came stamping out from behind a stack of books and onto the main floor of The Red Lion, the shop I owned in Long Beach.

She stopped humming when she saw me. "There you are. What are you doing in the dark?"

I walked over to her, and she began to push down my springing black bangs with quick bats of her hand.

"Just wrapping a few things up," I said.

"Has the store been busy?" She brushed imaginary dust off my shoulders and began to smooth the wrinkles on my collar with hard jabs of her thumbs, and then she finally planted a beaky kiss on my cheek.

I laughed. "What do you think?"

"Don't be negative. Things will pick up. Though the less time you have for