The countdown is ON for Zoe and Kahil! They are less than a month away and I’m so thrilled that the wait for this one is almost over. I know you are going to love them as much as me.
There is a pre-order live here but don’t worry it’s also going to be in KU.
Enjoy this sneaky sample!
Ames x
***
“Occultists, magicians, alchemists, dream-diviners, interpreters of the voices of statues, bird-seers, geomancers, demonologists, masters of the apocryphal: a modern day commentator could be forgiven for presuming that Byzantium was a hotbed of the dark arts.”
Istanbul—a Tale of Three Cities—Bettany Hughes
* * *
Chapter One
Zoe knew it was her birthday by the cold dread that crawled along her half-asleep body. She opened her eyes slowly, her stare fixed on the cream ceiling above her, and willed her sleep paralysis to release her. It was these moments that were the worst—her consciousness awake and her body frozen as she convinced her limbs to work after a nightmare. She focused on naming what she could see to make her brain react again. Lamp, books, glass of water, reading glasses…
Her town house in Fulham was silent except for the cars zooming with the usual London commuters outside. The sounds her mother usually made in the bottom half of the house in the morning were painfully absent, reminding her starkly of what day it was.
Her mother, Anita, always took off on some fabulous holiday every year on Zoe’s birthday. She always made a point of celebrating Zoe’s birthday in the days before she went away; she just never hung about for the actual date. Zoe didn’t blame her. After all, it was also the day her father had died.
For Zoe, her grief was a well-worn party dress that she dusted off once a year to wear when no one was around to see it.
She breathed in and out, trying to push away the memories and nightmares of her blood-stained dress, her father’s office piled high with books, and his murderer still crouched over his body. She would never forget the heart he had tattooed on one hand, a feather on the other, and everything stained in scarlet. She remembered the tattoos in detail but could never recall his face. Her paralysis let her go, and she inhaled a sharp breath.
“Not today, Satan,” Zoe murmured. She dragged herself into the shower, focusing on her breathing and not on the memories of that warm Istanbul night twenty-three years ago.
She’d had a long time to get over it—as her ex-boyfriend had pointed out many times. She just never had. Her mother dealt with the anniversary by being on a beach on the other side of the world. Zoe was more pragmatic. She worked so she wouldn’t think.
She had a private commission to finish, a binding restoration of a gorgeous first edition of History of the World by Sir Walter Raleigh, and that was all she needed to focus on that day. Not her father’s unsolved murder. Not ruined birthdays and absent mothers who taught her to be self-sufficient too early in life. Books—her eternal refuge.
Zoe was an expert in the rare and the damaged. In a way, it helped her feel closer to her good memories of her father, who had been a rare book dealer, but also because books made her feel safe. For a few hours, her world was contained between two covers. It was a place that was controlled. Nothing else mattered.
Downstairs, Zoe made coffee and tied her bronze hair up into a high bun. She ate a croissant for breakfast and stared at the wisteria in the tiny back garden that was turning the outside world lavender.
Food always helped the grogginess of the sleep paralysis go away, and slowly the nightmares relented. She needed to get on with her day, not stare at the garden and imagine what life would be like if Oman had lived.
Coffee, emails, invoicing, more coffee. Zoe kept moving from task to task, not stopping long enough to think. Thinking was the enemy.
She was wrapping the Raleigh in tissue paper late that afternoon when the doorbell buzzed loudly, jolting her out of her working zone.
Zoe hurried downstairs, expecting a bunch of ‘I’m sorry’ birthday flowers from her mother, but what she got was a tall, dark-haired man in a suit. Zoe kept the chain on the door as she opened it a crack.
“Can I help you?” she asked cautiously.
“Good afternoon. Are you Zoe Kartal?” he replied, his English perfect but with a slight accent.
“Yeah? Who’s asking?”
“My name is Kerem Polat. I am here on behalf of your father’s estate.” He offered her a card through the crack in the door, and she took it. He was a lawyer from a firm in Istanbul. Zoe’s stomach flipped, and she removed the chain from the door.
“I don’t understand what this could be about. My father has been dead for twenty-three years. His estate was cleared up long ago,” Zoe replied, her brows drawing together.
Kerem smiled politely. “This was a special request that could only be delivered today on you thirty-third birthday. May I come in? Or if you would feel more comfortable, we can go to the cafe at the end of the street?”
“Cafe would be good. I could use the break.” Zoe’s fingers tightened on the card. “Let me just get some things.”
She shut the door on him and stared at the card again. It was heavy white stock, the firm name printed in clean black lines. On the back was the imprint of a set of scales.
Anyone could print a card, so Zoe pulled out her phone and quickly Googled the firm. They were legitimate, based in the Karaköy district of Istanbul.
What could have her father possibly left her? Zoe’s fingers hovered over her mother’s phone number, and then she decided against calling her. Anita always said that talking about Oman was too painful, and Zoe was annoyed with her enough to say something that would piss her off. Going off with a strange lawyer to talk about her father would definitely annoy Anita to no end.
Her father had left something for Zoe alone—it didn’t concern her mother—and there was only one way to find out what it was.
Outside, Kerem was waiting patiently on the footpath, a black leather folio tucked under one arm. He had a sprinkling of gray in his black hair and a touch of amusement in his eyes as he smiled at her. If it wasn’t for the card burning in her pocket, Zoe wouldn’t have picked him for a lawyer. He seemed far too jovial and his eyes too kind. He also seemed familiar in a way that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She decided it was probably the Turkish accent, reminding her of childhood.
“Should I ask what this is about, or would it be better to wait until I have an espresso in me?” Zoe asked as she fell into step beside him.
“Coffee is always best when discussing business,” Kerem replied. “Miss Kartal, I understand that this might seem strange, but I want to assure you that we handle these kinds of requests often.”
“Requests from fathers to their daughters after being dead for decades? God, I feel crazy just saying it out loud.” Zoe gripped the leather strap of her bag to keep her hands busy. “You know there is still family in Istanbul that could have taken care of any estate matters.”
“We are aware, but this isn’t for the family. It’s for you, specifically, to take care of.” Kerem opened the door to the cafe for her.
“Hey, Zoe, hot date?” Lily asked from behind the cash register. She was the owner and was always trying to set Zoe up with her sons.
“Very funny, but no. Business as always,” Zoe replied, her neck going hot. She ordered her usual double espresso and was surprised when Kerem ordered the same.
“English coffee isn’t robust enough. It needs to be double, don’t you think?” he said and tipped Lily.
They found a table at the back of the cafe, out of the way of other customers. Kerem’s eyes flickered to the people around them, as if scanning for something.
“Are you okay?” Zoe asked, uneasiness settling under her ribs.
“Yes, of course,” he replied, placing the leather portfolio in front of him. “Shall we begin?”
Zoe swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.” She really, really wasn’t, but she refused to be a chicken shit about it.
Kerem opened the folio and passed her a pale blue envelope. Her throat closed at the swirling letters stamped in the left corner—Kartal Rare Books. It was her father’s stationary.
Zoe ran her thumb over it, and her name that was written on the front in a barely legible handwriting. She looked up at Kerem, feeling like she didn’t inhabit her body properly.
“It’s okay, Zoe. Take your time,” he said kindly.
Zoe opened the letter and took out the single page.
Happy Birthday, my dearest love.
I’m sorry I can’t be with you on this day, but know wherever I am, I’m thinking of you and the amazing woman you have become.
For your present, I wish to give you the family legacy that was passed onto me on my thirty-third birthday. The bookstore and everything in it are now yours to care for. I know your shoulders and clever mind are both strong enough to bear its burdens with grace and wisdom.
Should you need help of any kind, the Order is there for you. You can trust them with your life.
With all my love,
Your father.
P.S. Please don’t be mad at Kerem for this surprise. You might not remember him, but he’s not bad. For a lawyer x.
Zoe read the letter twice more before folding it carefully with shaking fingers. “You knew my father well?”
“Very well,” Kerem confirmed with a nod.
Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look old enough to have been friends with him.”
“I’m older than I look. I’ve been blessed with excellent genes. The deed and keys to the bookstore are waiting in Istanbul for you to collect,” he said and pushed the leather folio towards her. “These are your flight details. A car will be waiting to pick you up from the airport…”
“Wait, wait. I can’t go to Istanbul!” she said, leaning back in her chair.
Kerem lifted a brow. “From my understanding, you run your own business?”
“So? That doesn’t mean I can just drop everything and run off to Turkey.” Zoe drank her espresso to stop herself from talking. Technically, running her own business and finishing her latest commission that day meant she could leave whenever she wanted. She just hated feeling like she had no choice.
Kerem frowned and placed his cup back on its saucer. “You don’t understand yet, but your family’s legacy is an important one. You need to come home, Zoe.”
Home. Tears pricked her eyes at the word. She hadn’t been back to Istanbul since Anita had moved them to her family home in London after her father died. She should have gone back but had known it would hurt her mother if she did. Her mother could be difficult, but Zoe had always tried to avoid causing her more pain.
“The bookstore has just…sat there all this time?” she asked, her fingers tapping on the table.
“Yes. As someone who has restored antique books her whole life, I thought you would jump at the chance. It would be worth going to take a look at least, don’t you think? Who knows what treasures Oman had hidden in there that are just waiting for you to find.”
Zoe laughed despite herself. “That’s playing dirty, Kerem.”
“Is it?” Kerem asked, smiling over the brim of his cup. “You have nothing to lose by taking a look at what he left you, do you? He always did have such an eclectic collection.”
Zoe wasn’t a coward, not by a long shot, but she wasn’t feeling particularly brave to open the doors to her past. She summoned her stubborn streak that usually worked better than bravery anyway.
Fuck it. Just go.
It wasn’t like Zoe had plans for her birthday anyway. Maybe a few days in Istanbul to clear up the legalities of her father’s estate would be a good thing for her. It would get her out of London and into some warmer weather.
Hopefully, going back would finally lay her father’s ghost to rest and she would be able to let his death go once and for all. She opened the leather folio in front of her.
“What time was the flight for?” she asked, straightening her shoulders.
Kerem smiled brightly. “Whenever you are ready.”
Chapter Two
Zoe was packing clothes into a suitcase when her phone started ringing loudly with her mother’s ringtone. She hesitated before picking it up. She really didn’t want to deal with her. Gritting her teeth, Zoe tapped the screen anyway.
“Hey, Mom,” she answered, tucking the phone between her neck and shoulder while she zipped up her bags.
“Happy birthday, muffin!” Anita cooed from a beach in Mykonos. Zoe could see her in her mind’s eye—tall, tanned, dressed in a white kaftan and with her bronze hair loose and wild in the sea breeze. No doubt there was also a cocktail in her hand.
“Thanks, Mom. How’s Greece?” she asked.
“Fabulous as always. Please tell me you’re going to do something with some friends tonight? You need to get out of the house more, Zoe. Flat sharing with your mom is bad enough at your age,” Anita babbled on, telling Zoe she was definitely a few margaritas in already.
Zoe didn’t bother trying to correct her mother that she was only staying in the upstairs half of the house because Anita had thrown a tantrum when she had tried to move out. Her mother liked to forget those facts when she was drinking.
“Actually, Mom, I’m going to get away for a few days.” Zoe took a deep breath and added in a rush, “I’m going to Istanbul because I inherited the bookstore.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Zoe braced herself mentally for the storm that was about to hit. She picked up her suitcase and started carrying it downstairs, determined not to change her mind.
“Is Kerem there?” Anita asked finally, her voice colder than Zoe had ever heard it.
Zoe paused on the step. “Yeah, he is. How… How did you know that?”
Kerem was suddenly before her, taking the suitcase from her and carrying it the rest of the way down.
“Put him on the phone, Zoe,” Anita demanded, ignoring her question.
Zoe offered the phone to Kerem. “Sorry, she wants to talk to you.”
“Merhaba, Anita. It has been a long time,” Kerem answered, his voice smooth as silk. He shot Zoe a reassuring wink. She couldn’t hear anything her mother was saying except for loud squawking noises that said she was chewing him out.
“Ah. Hmm. Yes, I understand, but Zoe is a grown woman, and it is time she had her inheritance. Ah huh. Well, Zoe is capable of making her own decisions. She’s not a little girl anymore. I will ensure she’s well looked after. Hmmm. Yes, well you walked away from us first. Don’t forget that.” Kerem went silent as Anita blared over the top of him. “It is none of your business whether Kahil is involved either. Zoe will be fine. She has family in Istanbul that deserve to know her. Goodbye, Anita.”
Kerem handed the phone back to Zoe, blowing out a frustrated breath.
“Yeah, she’s like that,” Zoe told him before lifting the phone back to her ear. “I don’t know what’s going on, Mom, but going back to Istanbul will be good for me. I need closure.”
“You need to stay as far away from your father’s messes as possible!” Anita shouted at her. It wasn’t in anger; it was fear. Her mother was worried about her and had never learned how to express it properly. Zoe really hated being the adult some days.
“Mom, stop yelling at me. I’m going to find out answers because clearly, you’re not going to give them to me, are you?” Zoe said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Go with Kerem then, but don’t come crying to me when he and that fucking city ruin your life,” her mother snapped and hung up on her. Zoe lowered the phone and took a long, deep breath in and then let it out.
“Are you okay?” Kerem asked, placing a warm hand on her shoulder.
“I’m fine. She’s… She can be a lot of work sometimes,” Zoe replied, embarrassed that he’d been dragged in their family drama.
Kerem laughed softly. “She always was high-spirited. Your hair color is the same as hers, but that’s where the similarity ends.”
“Thanks. Who’s Kahil?” Zoe asked, pulling on her leather jacket. It wasn’t the name of any of her cousins that she knew of.
“Oh, he’s a friend of the family. I’m sure he’ll be around at some point. Nothing to worry about. Shall we go?” Kerem said. He pulled out the handle on her suitcase and wheeled it to the door.
Zoe double-checked her locks and turned the lights out. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
It wasn’t until she was in the air, somewhere over Europe, that Zoe’s common sense finally caught up to her.
What the hell are you doing running away to Istanbul? She had pushed down her yearning for the city and her father years ago. Now she was about to throw herself into a past she could barely remember. Would it help her get over her grief? Or ensure she would never recover?
Zoe tried to squash her unease, hiding it from Kerem, who sat beside her. They were in first class, so she signaled to the flight attendant and ordered another red wine.
“You’re making the right decision, Zoe,” Kerem said, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading on his iPad.
“Is my freakout that obvious?” she asked. She forced her leg to stop jumping and accepted her wine from the flight attendant. She would’ve loved a Valium to mix with it.
Kerem patted her arm, and the touch reassured her. “You’re doing great with all of this. I actually thought you would be far more upset over it.”
“That will happen later, when I’m alone,” she replied. It wasn’t a joke. She would get to Istanbul, find the nearest shower, and have a meltdown. “I should have returned to Turkey earlier. I really thought Mom had sold the bookstore after Dad’s death. I didn’t question it.”
“You were a child who witnessed something terrible, Zoe. It’s natural that you wanted to move on from it.”
Zoe stared up at the air conditioner vent like it might have some answers for her. “Kerem, can you tell me something to distract me?”
“Like what?”
“Anything. I don’t know. In his letter my dad mentioned something called the Order. What’s that about?” Zoe didn’t remember her parents being a part of any orders or even religious groups.
“The Order of Saint Christóphoros. We were friends of your father when he was alive,” Kerem said, pushing back a curl that had escaped from his swept back hairstyle.
“You are a part of the order too?”
“For many, many years now.”
“Are they like the Freemasons? That kind of thing?”
Kerem laughed. “Something like that. They are good people, Zoe. If you wish to meet them while you are home, I can arrange it.”
Zoe chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t get it. Dad wasn’t religious. Why would he be in the order of an Orthodox saint?”
“His involvement wasn’t about religion, but contacts and friendships. Don’t let it concern you too much, Zoe. Focus on the bookstore first. Worry about everything else later,” he replied and went back to his paper.
Zoe drank wine and read for the remaining two hours of their flight. Her mind was exploding with questions, but Kerem was right. She needed to focus on the bookstore and getting her scattered emotions under control.
That plan lasted right up until they were driving from the airport and into Istanbul itself. Zoe was excited, admiring how green the forest was on the drive in. Once they reached the city, her heart started to hurt as memories flooded her mind. She kept breathing, focusing on the craziness of the drivers and fighting back tears. This was the city of her birth, and something tugged deep inside of her that said she was home.
The streets narrowed as they reached the Tarlabaşı neighborhood, and Zoe got flashes of memories—walking the hills around Galata Tower with her father beside her, eating gelato at a cafe, going to shop at a tiny convenience store with Anita.
They pulled up in a side street with a cafe and restaurant directly across from them.
Zoe couldn’t move from her seat. Her whole body locked up like she had sleep paralysis all over again. Kerem opened the car door for her and offered her a hand to help her out. She took it, her heart racing as she looked at the bookstore. The indigo blue paint had faded, but the bronze sign on the shop’s door shone brightly—Kartal Rare Books. Someone had papered up the windows in the front, but other than that, everything appeared the same. Zoe was going to throw up.
“Here are the keys,” Kerem said cheerily, pulling them from his pocket and passing them to her.
“I don’t… I don’t know what to do,” Zoe admitted to him.
Kerem squeezed her shoulder. “Go and settle in, Zoe. I know that it was cleaned for your arrival and the apartment upstairs organized. Call me tomorrow, and we can settle the legal side of things.”
Zoe nodded and offered him a tight smile. “Thank you, Kerem. Um, good night, I guess?”
“Happy birthday, Zoe.” Kerem smiled warmly at her. “Welcome home.”
Chapter Three
Across the street, Kahil sat in the cafe, drinking his second pot of strong black tea of the afternoon. He had been there for an hour, watching the store and waiting to catch his first glimpse of Oman’s daughter. She had no idea what was about to land on her head, and Kahil was curious to see if she had the backbone to handle it.
A black Mercedes pulled up in front of the bookstore, and Kerem got out of the car. His dark eyes found Kahil, noting his presence straight away. Those in the Order could always sense each other when they were close by, their heightened senses tuning into each other’s energy.
Behind his aviators, Kahil watched as Kerem opened the door of the car, and Zoe Kartal stepped out. Kahil had only met Oman’s daughter once, the night of his murder. She still had the same bright bronze hair that shone golden in the afternoon sun. She looked strained and upset, but that didn’t take away from how attractive she was. She had full lips and a curving figure to match. Damn, things just got a hell of a lot more interesting.
Kahil grinned into his tea, feeling sorry for Kerem, who would be forced to see the girl as his goddaughter. He and Oman had been such good friends that he would be feeling more than a little paternal towards Zoe, even if she didn’t remember him.
Kahil’s nose twitched as the breeze off the Bosporus brought the scents of the sea and car exhaust. On top of that was Zoe’s sweet perfume of bergamot and ylang ylang. Wine. Coffee. Sadness.
Kahil frowned. It was her birthday; it wasn’t right for her to be so sad. It was an old grief, not a fresh one, he noted. Maybe it was a bad idea to push the shop onto her. He lifted his cup to drink his tea and breathed in the tannin to clear his senses.
Once the girl had disappeared into the bookstore, Kerem crossed the street. His usual pristine clothes looked rumpled around the edges after a full day of travel.
“Why am I not surprised to find you here?” Kerem greeted him.
Kahil shrugged. “Duty is duty. How is she handling her inheritance?”
“She’s upset. Pissed off. Hurt. She was so worked up on the plane, she was giving me heartburn,” Kerem replied, rubbing at his chest. He helped himself to Kahil’s pot of tea. “Anita wasn’t there to cause a scene, but she still yelled at me over the phone like I was some asshole trying to kidnap her daughter.”
“She wasn’t there for Zoe’s birthday?” Kahil asked and wondered why it annoyed him so much.
“Anita never is apparently. Zoe doesn’t even know who her father really was. She has no clue about the Order either. This is going to be more complicated than we thought,” Kerem complained. He looked up at the bookstore, dark eyes calculating and sad. “She didn’t recognize me at all. Not even a glimmer of a smile for old Uncle Kerem.”
“She was only a kid when she was here last, brother. She’s going to be thrown into our world quick enough once word gets out that the bookstore is occupied again,” Kahil replied. It was going to be a nightmare, which was why he was sitting outside the damn store to begin with. Arslan was worried for Zoe’s safety and was going to ensure that they shadowed her.
Kerem hummed. “With any luck, Zoe won’t remember you either. She is already asking questions about the Order. She’s smart and knows there’s something else going on. I have no doubt she will find out hard and fast.”
“Smart and pretty, that’s a dangerous combination for a woman,” Kahil teased.
Kerem glared at him. “So you noticed she was pretty already?”
“I have eyes,” he replied, running a hand through his dark hair to pull it back from his face. “See? Two of them that work perfectly fine.”
“Eyes that I will cheerfully remove if you get lascivious thoughts about my goddaughter.”
Kahil smiled sweetly just because he knew it would piss Kerem off more. “Now, now, old friend, save that overprotectiveness for when she’s actually threatened.”
“Arslan sent you to watch her for the night?” Kerem asked, shifting the subject.
Kahil nodded. “He thinks it will be best if we have eyes on her while she’s in the city. The old man is more unsettled than usual.”
“I should report in and tell him how it went.” Kerem drained his tea and stood. “Don’t fail in your duties to protect her, Kahil.”
Kahil fought not to flinch. Kerem didn’t have to add, ‘Like you did her father.’ It was still there unspoken. It had been a wedge between them for decades.
“I won’t let anyone come near her. I’ll protect her with my life. I promise,” he answered solemnly.
Kerem looked towards the shop again. “She’s upset. I can hear her crying, and it’s killing me. Maybe I should—”
“No. You shouldn’t. It’s natural for her to be grieving in a situation like this. Go and speak with Arslan. I’ll call in the cavalry to look after her.” Kahil pulled out his phone and started texting.
“You’re right. Belkis will know how to handle it, and Zoe needs her family.” Kerem hesitated once more. “You will tell me if anything happens.”
It wasn’t a question. Kerem might be younger than Kahil, but he was certainly bossier.
“Of course, brother.” Kahil waved him on, and Kerem finally got in the car. Kahil didn’t have long to wait before Belkis messaged him back.
We will be there soon. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.
Kahil finished his tea, his mismatched eyes focusing back on the bookstore. His supernatural abilities filtered out all the other sounds until he could hear the soft sobs from the woman inside. Guilt crashed over him in waves. He had been too late to save Oman; he wouldn’t make the same mistake with his daughter.
There was only one person who could find the missing codex and retrieve it from wherever Oman had hidden it, and that person was Zoe.
No one had been able to get past the magical wards that had kept the shop locked down tight for the last two decades either. They had to believe that the magic had also kept the store and apartment in order. It had been sealed like a time capsule waiting for Zoe Kartal to return and claim it. Kahil hoped her father’s wards and the Order were enough to keep her safe.
There were dangers in the city of Istanbul that Zoe had no idea were coming for her. Kahil grinned. Luckily, none of those dangers were worse than he was.
* * *
Want to know more? Check it out here!
Ames x
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