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

her culture and the things she loved. And since the thrice-cursed spell wouldn’t adhere to the Kindles properly, reading them on my own was currently not an option.

“Oh, dear.” Jamie chuckled, sitting back again. “I can tell that reminded you of your current problem.”

“That translation spell won’t behave,” I grumbled. “I’ve contacted Seaton and asked if he wants to join me in figuring it out. He’s keen to do so.”

“I trust that between the two of you, you’ll figure it out.”

“It won’t win,” I promised her darkly. “No machine will ever win. I’ll beat it into submission if I have to.”

She snickered again, amused by my attitude. The frustration was a gnawing thing, chewing on my chest, but I had faith I’d figure it out with Seaton’s help. Maybe pull Leor into it as well. Surely between the three of us, we’d manage to reach a solution.

But there was no time for it now, as we were practically at Jere’s door. I put the thought aside and pulled into the gravel driveway next to the large green barn. This place had originally been farmland, before Kingston’s borders started expanding in every direction. Now it was a barn on the outskirts of the city limits, no farmland to be had. Jere found it perfect for his needs.

Jamie stepped out of the vehicle, her nose flaring as she took in the air. “Wow. That’s a very potent scent of magical…something.”

I’m sure to her senses it was nearly overwhelming. The odor was strong even to me.

“Jere specializes in protective covers, boxes, and wards for grimoires.”

Jamie shot me a sharp look. “You mentioned he was the one who built the boxes for the Reaper’s Set. That’s why?”

“In part. He’s an exquisite craftsman and they no doubt wanted a protective box that fit the volumes. He makes every element from scratch, including the dyes, hence the odor around this place.”

“That makes a lot of sense. Think he’s here?”

“Well, there’s smoke in the chimney, so odds are good.”

I was heartened to see it. Jere was very careful to bank the fire if he left the building even for a few minutes. He wasn’t the careless sort.

I led the way to the front door, which was around the corner of the building. It was ajar, for once, hinting that things had perhaps gotten a bit too potent inside the building. I gave the bell hanging near the door a good thwack as I entered.

“Jere!”

It was impossible to see him around everything. The place was well organized but crammed with shelves of material. At least in this section. The upper level was for all of the crafting, a way to keep the dust out of things. It was filled with leathers, woods, dyes, paper, and jars upon jars of things I couldn’t easily put a name to. Any craftsman who stepped inside would have swooned with envy on the spot.

A thump sounded above us on the wide wooden planks, and Jere’s raspy voice called back, “Henri Davenforth, is that you?”

“It’s me!”

“Got your message about dropping by.” As he spoke, his voice got closer, accompanied by the thump of footsteps against the stairs.

I turned, orienting myself to face the foot of the stairs as he descended. “I have a bit of bad news, I’m afraid, and I wanted to consult with you.”

Jere appeared, leather apron belted around him. His dark mahogany skin was smeared with even darker ink, and his black hair in its multitude of braids was pulled back at the nape. He looked semi-respectable, which was an unusual turn of events. Normally Jere looked as if he’d gotten into a paint fight with children. And lost.

He took me in with a grin. “I’d hug you hello, but you don’t want ink all over that nice suit.”

“I really don’t,” I agreed dryly. “So, do behave yourself. Jere, this is Detective Jamie Edwards, and her Felixes, Phil, Tasha, and Clint.”

Jere blinked at her and the Felixes, then gave a grin. “Nice to meet you! Don’t let me shake hands, I’ve got ink all over me right now.”

Jamie smiled back warmly. “I’ll keep my distance. Bottle explode on you?”

“You think you’re joking, but someone didn’t put the lid on it properly before putting it on the shelf, and then I tipped it over when I bumped into the shelf, and it went everywhere. I managed to dodge most of it, but not all.”

“Someone?” I questioned, knowing full well no one else was allowed to work in here.

Jere made a face at me. “Yes, I’m someone. Anyway, let’s step out and talk. Not safe for the Felixes to be in here.”

I silently blessed him for his diplomacy. He could tell at a glance that Jamie’s core was not stable enough to be in that hot bed of magical influences. She was likely immune to most of it, but I didn’t want to take chances with her. Jere’s eyes were those of a craftsman. Few things got past him.

He led us around to the side of the building, under an awning with a table and set of chairs. Obviously a spot for lunch breaks and guests, as it was nicely done and comfortable. Jamie heaved a silent sigh of relief upon seeing it.

Jere caught my elbow and indicated back to her with his eyes while mouthing, That’s her?

I gave him a nod. Over the years, I’d told my friends about Jamie. Not everything, of course. Some things I kept in confidence, but they were all aware of who she was, despite most never having met her. I could tell Jere was pleased to finally put a face to the name.

We settled around the table, the Felixes choosing to lounge on the surface for once instead of on someone’s lap. Jere took them in with keen interest.

“Heard about these. Felixes, you said?”

Clint chose to answer for me. “We are.”

Jere nodded, not surprised, and watched Clint with avid curiosity. “I only know your creator by reputation, but he did a good job making you.