Free Storm of Shadows by Christina Dodd

librarian.” She stared up at Sam as if spellbound by his black eyes and hair. Sam started to preen, and Aaron was getting ready to rein her in, when she said, “Are you Romany? Because we saw this woman in the park, and I noted she had many of the same features.”

    Sam stiffened and said briefly, “I am adopted, but yes, I’m Rom.”

    “How fascinating to run into two people of the same rare genetic background in the same day!”

    Tactless , Aaron mouthed to him, then aloud, “Come on, Rosamund.” He put his arm around her waist and pushed her toward the door.

    Sam twirled the empty paper roll around his index finger. “Be right back.”

    “But really,” she said to Aaron, “don’t you think it’s fascinating that we met two Romany in one day?”

    “Since we work for the Gypsy Travel Agency, possibly it’s not a coincidence.” Charisma rose from her seat in front of the computer. “I’m Charisma Fangorn.”

    Isabelle sat on the sofa surrounded by paperwork. She shuffled it into a pile, put a book on top, rose, and extended her hand. “I’m Isabelle Mason.”

    “I’m Rosamund Hall.” But Rosamund walked right past the two women, all her attention on the massive room. “ This is the library you told me about, Aaron? It’s gorgeous!”

    The library was the jewel of the mansion, with walls painted the color of mustard, heavy blue velvet curtains, and wide sweeps of antique Aubusson rugs on the floor. The tall, wide, medieval-style fireplace was set with logs, and large, soft chairs and a leather sofa clustered around it. A gaming table and two pool tables dominated the center of the room.

    But what clearly had captured Rosamund’s attention were the mahogany shelves filled with leather-bound books and dotted with antiques.

    Aaron grinned as he watched the mesmerized Rosamund wander deeper into the room. His plan was working.

    He moved close to Isabelle and Charisma, and said in a quick, quiet voice, “I was the second man to come to the library and ask her about prophecies today.”

    Isabelle gave a murmur of dismay. “One of the Others was there before you?”

    “Exactly, and she’s got a date with him tonight.”

    “Are they ahead of us on everything?” Charisma complained.

    “I suppose, but she’s distractible. We just have to offer the right bait.” He glanced at Rosamund’s face, enraptured as she pulled a book from the shelf. He had only a few seconds to ask about the woman who had spoken in his mind. “Have either of you met a Rom woman with a nose that’s been cut who is a—”

    “Aaron, look!” Rosamund rushed to his side. “A first edition of Dickens’s Christmas Carol with illustrations by John Leech!”

    “That’s only the beginning,” he assured her. “It’s the contents of Irving’s private library that will truly interest you.”

    She looked down at the book in her hand, then up at him, her eyes wide with excitement.

    An answering excitement kicked at his gut.

    His first impression had been wrong. There was something endearing about a woman who flushed over a first edition Dickens, yet remained so oblivious to her own appearance she hadn’t noticed that the material at the neckline of her dress formed a ragged fringe. “McKenna has gone to get Irving. He’ll want to take you up himself.”

    “That will be wonderful! But . . . oh. I don’t have much time.” She glanced at her utilitarian watch. “I have that date with Lance Mathews.”

    His warm response to her abruptly faded. “How could we forget that?”

    She took the Dickens back, placed it carefully on the shelf where she’d found it, then returned to the little group.

    Charisma fixed her emerald green eyes on Rosamund and enunciated clearly, “I’m Charisma Fangorn.”

    Rosamund heard her this time. “Hello. I’m Rosamund.” Her smile blossomed. “Fangorn? As in Fangorn Forest from Lord of the Rings ?”

    “My mother’s an aging hippie, among other things, and after