Lily's hands trembled slightly as she entered a bookshop just off Bond Street. The dark-rose gown and yellow-gold cloak she wore made her feel out of place amid the shanty shelves and dusty tomes. Motes of dust danced and swirled in the beams of light cutting through the windows and illuminating the gilded spines of the books stacked thickly behind her.

An old man sat behind the counter, sleeping, the soft repetitive sound of his snores a comfort in the thick silence of the ...