Read Online Honeymoon of the Dead by Tate Hallaway - Free Book Online Page A

closest Minneapolis has to bustle. Although none of the buildings in Uptown are more than three or four stories high, the area compensated for its lack of height with a multitude of neon and bright twinklies. Cars hissed by on slushy streets. Small white Christmas lights entwined nearly every branch of the scrawny gingko trees lining the sidewalks.
    When I lived here, Uptown was artsy in that best-kept-secret kind of way, as in artists could actually afford to live there. After years of the successful Uptown Art Fair, the neighborhood had gotten “noticed” and, as a consequence, was much more commercial and high priced. Now the Gap and Aveda and McDonald’s beckoned customers to enter their brightly lit interiors. But here and there, in the shadows of the chain stores, lingered cute, trendy, independently owned stores selling cards, jewelry, and various must- have curios. Remnants of the Uptown I used to know.
    I’d been hoping to share old memories, but instead I found myself showing Sebastian a lot of ghosts.
    “The Rainbow bar used to be here,” I said as we passed a place that now seemed to serve sushi. “It was really cool,” I said rather wistfully.
    Sebastian nodded.
    I suppose, of anyone in the world, a thousand- year-old vampire understood that things change.
    Me, I wasn’t ready for it.
    Orr Books was gone too replaced by a Barnes & Noble. Most of my favorite funky shops had disappeared or seemed to me to be trying too hard to be what Uptown used to be. Their attempts struck me as a little too much intentional hipness, the way window dressing was ever so artfully placed. It wasn’t a complete loss, however. For every snarky, self-referential, modern-too-cool- for-you bit of sparkly consumerism, there were genuine bits of whimsy—a funny bird made from used garden tools or stationery so bright and textured I just had to pull Sebastian into the store to fondle it.
    Sebastian and I strolled slowly, holding hands, as picture-perfect snowflakes slowly shifted colors as they drifted down through the lights of the city.
    My nose was chilled by the time we entered Magers & Quinn bookstore. The comforting smell of old books greeted me along with a rush of overheated air from a nearby vent. Sebastian and I stomped our boots on the soggy rug and went our separate ways. I knew he’d head first for the philosophy section, and I’d scour the nearby occult and astrology shelves. We’d probably meet where alchemy and New Age joined.
    Poetic, huh?
    After stuffing my gloves in the pocket of my coat, I rubbed my hands together briskly with delight and, as a bonus, to warm them. Despite managing a bookstore back home, I loved browsing for books, especially used ones. Mercury Crossing mostly carried only the newest titles. We didn’t have room for much else, especially since we also stocked incense, tarot cards, candles, jewelry, and pretty much everything else a modern witch might need. But when I shopped for myself, I particularly loved looking for old astrology books that were published before—or just at—the discovery of Pluto in 1930. Though, honestly, I loved leafing through any book on my favorite subject.
    As I was glancing through the titles—many of which, sadly, I recognized as remainders—I suddenly had that feeling of being watched. I turned, half expecting Sebastian, only to glimpse a hulking figure ducking quickly behind the stacks.
    “Hello?” I asked, because part of me is a bit like Pooh—I always invited the strange noise inside, even when it could be an Animal of Hostile Intent. I walked over to where I thought I saw the person disappear and peered around the edge of the tall, wooden bookshelf.
    No one was there.
    I stood for a moment, chewing the fingernail of my thumb. I stared at the empty aisle and doubted my sanity. I had seen somebody, hadn’t I?
    “Sports section? That’s not really you, is it, Garnet?” Sebastian’s hand on my shoulder made me jump about three feet straight in the