The Diviners (The Diviners 1)

“Don’t hold your breath!” Evie shouted back.

Sam mimed an arrow through the heart and fell down. Evie laughed in spite of herself. “Idiot.”

Theta’s eyebrow inched up. “That boy’s got it bad for you, Evil.”

Evie rolled her eyes. “Don’t kid yourself. It has nothing to do with me. That boy only wants what he can’t have.”

Theta looked out at the bright lights of Broadway, winking into existence against the dusk. “Don’t we all?”

By the time Evie reached the museum, it was dark and the day’s last visitors had gone. Humming a tune she’d heard on the radio, she dropped her scarf, coat, and pocketbook on a chair and made her way to the library. The doors were slightly ajar, and an unfamiliar woman’s voice came through the crack.

“The storm’s coming, Will. Whether you’re ready or not, it’s coming.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Will said. He sounded tense.

“Do you really think this was an isolated occurrence? You read the papers like I do. You’ve seen the signs.”

The conversation grew hushed and Evie edged closer to try to hear.

“I told you then that it would come to no good.”

“I tried, Margaret. You know that.”

They must have moved; the sound became muffled and Evie could make out only bits and pieces: “Safe haven.” “Diviners.” “Going to be needed.”

Evie leaned closer, straining to hear.

“What about your niece? You know what she is. You have to get her ready. Prepare her.”

Evie’s heartbeat quickened.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“You have to tell her, or I will.”

Unable to bear it, Evie burst into the room. “Tell me what?”

“Evie!” Will dropped his cigarettes. “This is a private conversation.”

“I heard you talking about me.” Evie turned to the tall, imposing woman standing at Will’s desk. It was the same woman who’d come calling nearly two weeks ago, the one who’d left her card. The one Will pretended not to know. “What isn’t he telling me?”

“Miss Walker was just leaving.” Will glanced in warning at the woman, who shook her head slowly—in resignation or disapproval, Evie couldn’t be sure.

“I expect I was.” The woman secured her hat. “I’ll see myself out, thank you. Storm’s coming, Will, whether you’re ready or not,” she said to him again and marched out of the library in her regal way.

Evie waited until she heard the quick snap of the woman’s heels on the marble tile outside, then she turned on Will. “Who is that woman?”

“None of your concern.”

Will lit one of his cigarettes and Evie snatched it from his fingers, furiously stubbing it out in an ashtray.

“But she was talking about me! I want to know why,” Evie demanded. “And you said you didn’t know her before!”

For a moment, Will hesitated at the desk, looking utterly lost. Then that scholarly cool washed over him and he was the unimpeachable Will Fitzgerald again. He pretended to adjust the objects on his desk into some phony semblance of order. “Evie, I’ve been thinking. It might be best if you were to go back to Ohio.”

Evie reeled as if she’d been punched. “What? But Unc, you promised me—”

“That you could stay for a while. Evie, I’m an old bachelor, set in my ways. I’m not equipped to look after a girl—”