Grimoires and Where to Find Them by Raconteur, Honor (ebook reader for laptop .txt) 📕

I jerked, startled, then groaned, my head sinking. I really wished someone had informed me of this terrible news earlier.

“At all?”

“None at all. It was part of why the Radman family was so careful in choosing the grimoires’ owners. Kerey Radman clearly never intended for his work to be handed over to another.”

Phil took this in, expression serious, which was an adorable look on his tiny face. “But that means there’s no protections on the books.”

“None at all.”

I could have used better news, not…this. At least Leor had given me people to interview, which might drum up some leads, but I had no faith they would hand me a solution.

“Leor, tell me good news. Your box for the grimoire, was it taken, too?”

“I’m happy to say it was. Well, happy isn’t the right word…you know what I mean.” Leor made a face. “In this case, I’d rather have the box stolen than the grimoire without its protective box.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yes. That means we currently only have one unprotected volume of deadly spells freely out in the public.”

Leor gave it a beat. “I think that sounded more reassuring in your head than it did aloud.”

Grimacing, I admitted, “It did. That’s still the stuff of nightmares.”

Leor was well able to read me and offered, “Good luck? And find them quickly.”

“Thank you.” I sighed. I did not look forward to telling my better half any of this. “I’ll need it.”

I had another case’s paperwork to wrap up before a deadline, so I retreated back to the station. Niamh and Foster had investigated the other two thefts at the faire with me, but it unfortunately hadn’t given us any leads. Just more things to investigate, which didn’t please any of us.

I had told people to meet me at the station in the afternoon so we could compare notes. Henri was off visiting a friend, which surprised me. Unsociable as he was, he did have friends he spoke with. Maybe not regularly, true. It gave me a window of time to wrap things up.

I more or less had things done when Niamh joined me. She sat in the wooden chair I kept at the side of the desk and crossed her legs comfortably, as if she had an invitation to be there.

I found Niamh a little difficult to read. She was stunningly beautiful, enough to be a model or an actress, but she also had a natural poker face. She could have walked right onto The Lord of the Rings set, too, and fit right in. Her tall stature, a height near my own, and the platinum blonde hair that fell in a thick braid over her shoulder gave me the impression. That and the apple-green of her eyes, set in a heart-shaped face, with those wicked elf ears peeking out from beneath her hair. She’d give the impression of an ethereal beauty if not for her red kingsman uniform.

As she took a seat, I gave her a glance and greeted her. “Niamh, hi. Give me two seconds, I almost have this done.”

“Of course.” She extended a hand to the two cats lounging on the corner of my desk and gave them scratches. “Tasha, Clint, hello.”

They purred, enjoying the attention.

I signed off on a few things, stacked them in the right folders, and got them into my outbox. I’d file them in a second, but the air around Niamh suggested she had something to say. Or perhaps ask. I wanted to give her the space to do so while we had no one around. The bullpen was relatively quiet and empty for once. Something of a miracle, that.

“Detective.” Niamh took a breath, visibly deciding how to phrase her question. “Clarify something for me. Why did you ask for me?”

Ah. The expected question. I had a feeling the situation hadn’t been fully explained to her.

“Couple of reasons, really. Queen Regina has requested I teach more of her kingsmen how to handle a crime scene. Because you’re a newbie, I pulled you in to teach. You and Foster, really.”

Her caution eased up a mite. “What’s the other reason?”

“I don’t know you,” I explained with an easy shrug. “And the easiest way to fix that is to work a case with you. I consult a lot with the kingsmen. Half of them are basically brothers to me, and it behooves me to know you better. To know anyone who’s joined the kingsmen ranks. Why not invite you in on this?”

“So, it’s not that I’m being tested?”

I blinked at her, surprised. “Which idiot suggested that? Girl, you’ve made it into the kingsmen, you don’t have to prove anything. Just do the job.”

Her poker face fell away, replaced with curiosity. “You really see it that way. But, you know, that’s the question I keep overhearing. How did I manage to become a kingsman? And then someone suggests it’s Queen Regina’s goal of getting more women into positions of power, and they dismiss my abilities. You don’t look at me and think it’s a political move.”

“No. But then, I lived in a country where women made up the bulk of the workforce. And we were darn good at what we did. Queen Regina understands gender has nothing to do with competency. You got in because you have the right skills; you just need experience. Foster’s the same. He’s got some stigma attached to him because he’s a werefox, but we’re not here to cater to stereotypes.”

Clint piped up with, “Like Foster.”

I gave him a pet, smoothing my hand down his back. “I know you like Foster. He likes you too—and knows how to work with you, which is good for all of us.

“Give it time, Niamh. You’ll prove the doubters wrong eventually. And if they still give you grief five years from now, that’s on them. Not you. You don’t have to prove yourself to the idiots.”

Her expression lifted up into a slight smile. “You’re speaking