Books of Betrayal

Penelope’s boots thumped against the pavement as she swung her legs from the limo. She bent over briefly to brush the snow from the suede of her shoes, her other hand pressing her phone tightly against her ear. The driver held the door open for her as she pushed out into the whipping winter winds. The snow that had fallen just yesterday was being pulled from its place on the ground into tiny swirling squalls. She tugged the long winter coat tighter around her middle and pushed the phone closer to her ear.

“Look, you said you would be here, Bret. We must talk about things. I just need some honesty from you. I’m out in the cold now, so I’m hanging up. Meet me at noon. Please don’t be late.”

She tapped at the large screen before letting the phone fall into her deep velvety pockets, each hand following suit. Her fingers brushed against the folded papers there as she looked up and down the whitened roads of this small town in the middle of nowhere. Snow collected in sheets upon sectioned shops, each roof blanketed together with the next. The streetlamps stood like silvery-robed figures against the road. Garland hung limply between each pole -- the green ropes heavy with solid precipitation. The sigh she heaved took flight in front of her face in a cloud of warm steam, leaving her body just a little bit colder than before. She looked back at the man standing by the limo.

“Frank, I am hoping that Bret will actually show up. I’ll call you if I need you to come.”

“I don’t mind waiting, Pen,” said Frank.

She pulled her hand from her pocket and waved him off.

“No need, I will see you soon.”

The limo pulled out into the storm and Penelope continued down the sidewalk. After glancing up at covered store signs, she realized she had no idea which building housed her new attorney, McCormick at Law.

Penelope came to a wide-open alleyway between two stores. As she passed, a burst of icy cold came gusting into the street. The wintery mix engulfed her, and the winds slashed at her body pulling the breath from her lungs. She pushed blindly toward the alleyway but instead came against a door. The doorknob slipped into her hand easily, so she retched at it. Her foot connected with an uneven step, and she fell forward into a toasty foyer, her hands sprawling underneath her against a shag carpet. The shrieking winds were silenced as the door to the outside world slammed behind her.

She sighed, pulling herself back to her feet, and glanced at the frosted window in the door. It gave no indication of the storm beyond it. Penelope patted at her pockets, sighing with relief when she realized the paperwork was still tucked inside. An identical door stood in front of her across the foyer. Letters were etched against the opaque glass.

Books of Betrayal.

She hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open.

Stacks of bookcases rose from every empty space -- each wooden shelf housing identical, black-bound books. A distant metronome of thumping reverberated throughout the store. She walked along the corridors, glancing up and down the rows. Various books lie open on the ground. She continued onward down the maze of wood, paper, and leather.

The aisles opened to a large desk and behind that a private entryway into a different room. The mahogany desk held more books toppling in all directions. She looked to the left and down another long aisle. At the end of the walkway, a collection of glass windows was patched together against the front of the store. A wooden bench spanned the length of it, cozy-looking cushions piled against the seat. The distant crackle of fire reached her ears.

“Are you in need of some assistance, Miss?”

Penelope gasped as she whirled toward the voice. There against a leather armchair sitting behind the desk was a black-haired boy. He could not have been any older than 10, she’d decided. The blue of his eyes crackled like ice.

“Oh my, you scared me. I am so sorry,” she chuckled as she pulled her phone from her pocket and lit the screen. 10:03. Crap.

Penelope cleared her throat.

“I was just trying to find a store nearby. Can you help me?”

The boy bounced from the seat and came to stand in front of her, peering at her curiously. He wore a fitted vest, and a rose-colored bowtie perched at his neck.

“Uh… right. Is there anyone here running the store?” she asked.

A knowing smile spread across his face.

“You seem a bit lost,” he said.

She laughed again, “I’m sure that’s obvious.”

The distant thumping continued, and she turned for a moment to look back at the endless stacks of books.

“What’s that noise? What is this place?” she asked, turning back to him.

He pointed a finger at a sign that hung behind the desk. Books of Betrayals. She walked past the boy closer to the desk.

“Yes, it’s quite the… quirky name for a bookstore. But what does it mean?”

“Let me ask you this, Penelope,” the boy said, standing behind her, his voice filled with eerie certainty, “what brought you here today?”

“Well, I just wanted to get out of that storm… wait, how did you know…,” she whirled toward him, but the boy was no longer there. She was alone again in this strange bookstore. She would wait only a few more moments, she was already late to meet with her lawyer.

She wandered down toward the wall of windows at the front of the shop -- each glass square fogged with heat. She leaned against the bay window bench, using her hand to clear the opaque glass but when she peered out onto the street, she only saw sunlight. She blinked her eyes and shook her head but when she glanced out again there was no sign of winter at all. She turned back, ready to head outside and prove to herself that this was some sort of trick. But the boy stood there in front of her once more. This time she couldn’t hold the shriek that lifted from her chest.

“Jesus, you sure know how to sneak up on a person.” She took a deep breath, attempting to still her drumming heart.

“Are you waiting for something?” he questioned her.

“Yes, I need to find the attorney around here, there should be one on this street,” she said in exasperation. He turned and ran back past the stacks toward the desk.

She followed him, “Hey… wait!”

A book fell out in front of her, joining the rest of the thumping in the air. The pages started to flip all on their own. Penelope fell back against another bookcase, staring at the hardback on the ground. She pulled herself away and headed after the boy.

“Hey, what is going…”

But the boy was nowhere to be found. Standing there behind the desk, was a man. He wore an identical vest and the same rose-colored bow tie at his neck. He smiled at her, the perfect whiteness of his teeth mixing with his indigo irises.

“Penelope,” he purred, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Who are you?” she spat, rather unkindly. Her grip on reality felt slippery in this store.

“I am so sorry to leave you here unattended for so long. I apologize for the ineptitude. My name… is Benjamin Betrayal. And you, are Penelope Perfidy. Isn’t that right?”

She nodded at him -- her words unable to form correctly in her mouth.

“Welcome to Books of Betrayal. I see you’ve made yourself at home. Many patrons enjoy the Windows of Hope. Did they show you want you wanted?”

She glanced back at the windows before glaring at him. Her words came rushing back.

“Look, I really just need to get out of here,” she started, but another book fell to the floor in front of her, its pages flapping hurriedly to a blank space.

“Hm, and where is it that you’re off to in such a hurry?”

She cleared her throat, backing away from the book, and further into the store. “I am just looking for the attorney. You must know of him, he’s on this street. McCormick?”

"Ah yes, of course. The divorce attorney?”

Her cheeks flared with blush, “yes, that attorney.”

He walked back behind the desk and pulled a pile of books against his chest before walking toward the stacks. He lifted a heavy book from the top and placed it gently against the shelve. When the leather binding contacted the wood, the shelf sucked the book back into its rightful place.

She blinked at him, “how did you do that?”

“Oh, I did nothing. The bookstore does it all. The bookstore brought you here to me.”

“What?”

She felt sweat prickling at the nape of her neck. She pulled her scarf off and pushed it onto a shelf.

“You see this bookstore works in the most peculiar way, you might say. The books here are not fiction or stories. You won’t find novels or comics. There are no dictionaries or encyclopedias. The only books that exist here, are the Books of Betrayal.”

At the end of the row, another book fell to the floor.

“Each book contains the various betrayals of any such individual. All the deceit, all the lies, every moment of dishonesty in a person’s life. These books will catch it, write it down, they keep the truth of betrayal written into history.”

Penelope placed her hands on her hips, hoping to hide her unease. Benjamin cracked open the cover of the book in front of him. His slender fingers reached into the pocket of his patterned vest and pulled a monocle from its sheath. He placed the small glass circle against his eye and peered down at the first page.

“Ah yes, now this was just a lucky find. Many might pay a pretty penny to read this one…” He glanced up at her, letting the monocle fall from his eye. It tumbled toward the floor before swinging back and forth from a chain still attached to his vest pocket. He cleared his throat.

“Here lists the many Betrayals of the one called Queen Elizabeth Mountbatten-Windsor.”

Penelope scoffed. This fellow was surely insane.

    “Look, I do appreciate the… uh… hospitality. However, I really must be going…” she turned toward the exit once more.

      Another book fell.

      “I will have to call your bluff, Penelope. The store wouldn’t have called you here, wouldn’t be keeping you here if it didn’t want something from you.”

       “What are you talking about it’s just a store! I need to get out of here,” she said, her frustration growing. 

       The man with piercing eyes smiled at her, “no one is keeping you here.”

        He continued down the row, disappearing from her view. She looked back at the exit sign, the red letters glowing gently at the front of the store, but her feet didn’t lead her outside. Instead, she shuffled quietly after Benjamin, peering down the wall of books at him. She watched him place book after book against the wood – each one getting pulled back into place. Another book hit the floor. Its pages flapped rapidly before settling on a stretch of blank space. The sound of scrawling crept into the air as words formed one after another on the paper.

           She moved closer, curious. She kneeled in front of the book and read.

           “December 15^th ten fifteen a.m. Betrayal nine hundred forty-three. George hid the money from his wife, the money that would pay for the next night with his wife’s sister. The money that would keep them all quiet.”

           Penelope’s stomach turned, and she braced her hands on her knees “What is this? It’s horrid.”

           “It’s merely the truth, my dear. The Books are here to tell the stories that we can’t.”

           Her curiosity got the best of her. She flipped the book open to the front cover and glared at the first page. It was blank. Benjamin tsked at her from the end of the row. She glanced up at him. He plucked the tiny monocle from where it spun dangling against his chest.

           “You’ll need this to know that much.”

           Penelope stood up and moved closer to him.

           “So, you mean to tell me that a book exists here for everyone? Does a book exist here for me?”

           “Of course, it does. And one for me. One for Frank. Even… for Bret.”

           She narrowed her eyes at him. A book of Bret’s betrayals. She shivered with need, staring into those crystalline eyes, waiting for the moment he would tell her this was all a joke.

           “Is that what brought you?” he asked her.

           She scoffed. “Come now. Nothing brought me here. I stumbled in through the front door when the storm picked up.”

           He raised his eyebrows at her before continuing to the next aisle. She stalked after him.

           “Okay, fine. I’ll play along. Tell me why I’m here. Surely you know.”

           “I don’t. Somewhere deep inside you have the questions that need asking.”

           He continued reshelving the books, the monocle a pendulum of refractive light swinging to and fro.

           An uneasy feeling settled in her gut. She didn’t want to ask, didn’t want the words to come tumbling from her lips. But something about the store pulled at them, dragging syllables from her mouth like a bear pulling prey from a hole.

           “Show me Bret’s book.” The regret filled her instantly, but she didn’t take it back. As the last book was sucked back into place from Benjamin’s hands, he turned.

           “That was not a question.”

           She let out an exasperated sigh, “can I see Bret’s book of betrayal?”

“Hm, the Book of Bret Baker the third? That Bret?” A teasing smile tugged at his lips.

She rolled her eyes at him but nodded.

The incessant thudding stopped, and silence filled the bookstore for a moment. Benjamin cocked his head, listening. The moments chugged along until the thudding picked back up again and Benjamin stalked back to the desk. Penelope followed.

“Ah yes, it seems that the store has spoken.” He grasped at a book now lying on the desk. He put the monocle against his eye and read the front page.

“Here lists the many Betrayals of the one called Bret Baker the III.”

He hopped up on the desk and sat there, letting the book rest against his thighs.

“This.” He pointed at the book, “… is what you want.”

Penelope peered down at the book in his lap, holding back the temptation to tear it from him. She held out a hand.

“Ah, not so simple as that, Penelope.”

“Of course, it isn’t, this place is the opposite of simple.”

He chuckled. “The bookstore only asks one thing of you.”

“And what is that?”

“A betrayal for a betrayal.”

She pondered his words.

“The bookstore only desires more Betrayals. It called to you because it knew it could get more. So, here we are. What betrayal are you willing to perform to see those of the man you can no longer trust?”

“So, if I betray Bret in some way, I can read his… indiscretions.”

“I can’t promise that the content that you seek lies within these pages. But I can promise that if you betray your future ex-husband here and now, you can read all there is to know about his misgivings.”

She paused only briefly. “What do I have to do?”

Benjamin’s smile grew. He stood as he placed the book on the desk behind him. He pulled the monocle from his vest and unclasped the chain, letting it fall on top of the book.

“Such a lack of imagination, Pen,” he said as he came to stand in front of her. She did her best to ignore the use of her nickname. He looked down at her, cocking his head slightly. The blue of his eyes burned into hers and she felt a tingle starting deep in her belly.

“Think about it. What might be an appropriate betrayal for a man of supposed indiscretions?” His fingers came to twirl a strand of hair against her shoulder. She sucked air in past her teeth but didn’t back away.

“But I… I don’t even know if he’s… I don’t actually know that Bret…”

“Yes, of course. That’s very true. Might be best to hold out. Wait for that meeting that’s coming. Ask him yourself. I’m sure he’ll tell you everything you want to know. No need for a pesky book to do it for you.”

Benjamin’s words filled the air around them with anticipation. Penelope glanced at the book again. She could have sworn it was even closer to her now, begging to be opened, needing to be read. She reached into her pocket, letting her fingers brush against the paper there again.

Benjamin leaned into her, his pretty lips only inches from her ear.

“Come with me, and the book is yours.”

The hair on her neck stood on end, each one reaching to feel the warmth of his breath. Their eyes met once more and before she could stop herself, she pulled her coat from her shoulders. Benjamin laughed, letting his head fall backward. He took her coat from her and threw it at the desk letting it fall over the book and monocle. He grasped her hand in his and pulled her to the archway, whispering into her ear.

“Don’t be ashamed, my dear, the bookstore gets what it wants.”

Benjamin pulled the door closed behind them and all that remained was the gentle thumping of leather against the floor. Another book fell from the shelve behind the desk, its pages fluttering. The scrawling started just like all the others as it devoured the next Betrayal of Penelope Perfidy.