Eternal Beauty, Eternal Darkness
By
Lynne Connolly

Chapter One

    The shop bell tinkled, and Tara pushed back her hair, looking up to see who had come in. It was Helen, returning from a quick walk to the newsstand. Giving a careful sigh of relief that she wouldn't have to leave to attend to a customer at this crucial stage, she returned to her work, bending over the book to give the last touches to the binding.
    Helen came through to the workshop at the back. Tara heard her chuckle when she saw Tara pressing home the muslin protective cover to the book. “Late with an order again?”
    Tara grinned wryly. “Yes, a little. The book's fascinating, and I got too involved reading it. It's a spell book.”
    Helen's gaze sharpened. “Truly? A really old one?”
    “Oh yes, a really old one. It's for a client in New York. I thought I'd deliver it next week, when I go up for the book fair.”
    “Will it be done by then?”
    Tara drew her hands away and gently pulled the muslin protector free. She stood up and stretched to ease her aching back. “It's done now. You can look at it if you want. But use the gloves because it's old and valuable.”
    She watched her friend pull on the white cotton gloves and lean over the book. Helen had no unruly hair to tuck behind her ears, her smooth, golden locks confined in an elegant chignon at the back of her head. Her neat suit surpassed the usual schoolteacher's garb, being both expensive and well fitted, unlike Tara's messy sweatshirt and jeans, smeared with glue and ink. Despite that they were friends, had been since the day they had met.
    This workshop was Tara's sanctuary, her private room and she allowed very few people into it, but Helen was her closest friend. A comfortable chair in the corner by the coffee maker showed where she spent several happy, blessedly private hours. A small bookshelf above held her personal copies of her favorite true crime books. The occult side of the shop had started by public demand, but true crime had always been her private passion.
    Staring around her room, her shop, Tara was forced to admit to herself that she was restless. Used to traveling the world with her parents, that had come to an abrupt halt. Her father had retired from active duty, and now worked in Washington. Tara had what she'd always dreamed of; a little bookshop in Connecticut. Now the old wanderlust was on her again. She couldn't explain it, but she had been feeling restless for a couple of months, as though something was ending, or perhaps beginning.
    Helen smiled slightly as she studied the book. Tara envied her. Helen's career had taken a straight line, from college to teaching at ordinary schools, and now Witney Ladies' College. A talented history teacher, Helen kept the girls in her classes enthralled with stories of the old days that taught them the essentials of history without the dryness so often associated with the subject.
    Helen was lost in the book; head sunk in her hands, absorbed in the old print. This one was sixteenth century, an early printed book with some hand-written notes in the margins. It was a shame Tara couldn't discover the provenance, because it would have doubled the value for her customer. The client was a New York collector of the occult, especially rare items. Tara had obtained several books for him, always old, always dealing with the occult. He'd proved a profitable connection, providing her with other customers.
    Tara had done a good job. She'd bound the fragile book with its    more >>