While he finalized the transaction, I spied on Mimi and Werner, who were studying rings. Getting away from her had been the best part of being offered the job at MSI. Seeing her again reminded me why I was keeping quiet about my loss of immunity until I had a better sense of what to do. I couldn’t face going back to that life. While I knew that most bosses weren’t like her, I also knew that without having any particular qualifications that I didn’t already share with half the young career women in Manhattan, I wasn’t likely to be treated like anything other than a disposable commodity. At MSI, I at least had one quality they desperately needed. Or I’d had it once. I didn’t know what I’d do if it didn’t come back.
Owen tucked the small, gift-wrapped box in the breast pocket of his suit coat and said, “What next?”
“For books, I’m thinking the Strand. Maybe something rare and interesting like a first edition?”
“Good idea. Think you can walk from here?”
“Of course.” I figured we’d already wrapped up our encounter with Mimi, so I didn’t feel the need to say anything as we left. We headed back over to Broadway, then uptown. “Do you have any ideas for books that would be good?” I asked.
“I’ll have to see what they have, but I got a look in his library at Thanksgiving, so I know what he already has.”
“I wish it were that easy to shop for my dad. I can’t keep up with what he has in things like books from this far away, and he never seems to ask for anything other than socks and gloves.”
“Socks and gloves? Really?”
“You’d have to know my dad. For him, that’s extravagant. What do you usually ask for?”
“I don’t. There’s not much of anyone for me to ask.” I mentally kicked myself for asking without thinking. Given what he’d told me about his home life, I should have known better.
We reached Grace Church, where Sam’s occasional appearances used to make me uneasy before I learned about magic. I tried to keep from looking at the church as we passed, instead keeping my pace brisk. I didn’t like the reminder of what I’d lost. Owen slowed down, though. He paused, and then he seemed frozen in time. If I hadn’t known that something was likely going on, I wouldn’t have noticed it at all. So that was what the rest of the world saw when one of us paused to chat with a gargoyle. The frozen image must have masked the conversation. Losing my immunity might have been a pain at times, but it was certainly educational. I was more than eager, however, to end the lessons and get back to what passed for normal in my life.
Owen unfroze and resumed walking with me. “Odd,” he mused out loud. “Sam usually takes that shift.”
I tried to pretend I had the slightest clue what he was talking about. “He did say he’d worked a lot over the holiday. Maybe he traded off with somebody else.”
“That’s probably it.” I was surprised that he didn’t even question me about not participating in the conversation.
We reached the bookstore, and he headed straight for the rare-book collection in the adjacent building. Apparently, he’d done this sort of thing before, which shouldn’t have surprised me, considering the stacks of old books in his office. He probably knew every rare-book dealer in town. We went up in the elevator, then entered the rare-book room. The bookseller on duty there recognized Owen, and Owen seemed to know him, which was good because I doubted I could have handled this transaction if Owen had gone mute on me again.
Owen walked past shelves and tables full of books. He stopped in front of one bookcase, frowned, then ran his hand about an inch behind the spines. At one book halfway down the shelf he grinned and pulled the book out. “Look at this,” he whispered. “It looks like a fairly early printing of a Dickens, which would be valuable enough, but what do you see?”
He was asking me for my opinion as a magically immune verifier, and I couldn’t see anything.
“I don’t know anything about rare books,” I managed to stammer even as I fought back a flood of panic. I should tell him now, I thought, but the encounter with Mimi was still too fresh in my mind. I couldn’t risk losing my job because I’d lost the ability that made them want me.
“I do know you were once able to tell the difference between a Tom Clancy and a rare codex.”
“Yeah, but that difference was obvious—new book as opposed to really old book. All old books pretty much look alike to me.”
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the bookseller wasn’t watching too carefully, then held his hand over the book. It shimmered, then an even older, more ornate book appeared. “Ah, just what I thought,” he said. “This is very rare. James will love it.” He took the book over to the bookseller and asked, “How much do you want for this one?”