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

singeing my eyebrows. (I was fairly sure I had—my skin still felt hot.)

I put the cut pages into one bag, the ruined grimoire into another. Each bag could only contain so much, after all—of both bulk and magic. With everything properly sealed, it was far safer to breathe. I used two different spells to disperse the lingering magic and clear the air, then opened a window for good measure.

Phew, yes, much better. I placed the bags into my black bag, and only then did I release the ward I’d set up and open the door.

Jamie was on the other side, holding Phil, a crooked smile on her face. “Well. At least we know now why Walcott ran.”

My own expression felt strained. “Indeed.”

“Wait, what happened to your head? You look burned.”

“Small fire broke out,” I explained heavily. So, my gut feeling had been accurate. “A hex page and a charm page rubbed against each other wrong, and with the state of things, they combusted into open flame. It’s all out and contained now. How bad does it look?”

“Well, you’re missing half an eyebrow on this right side, and you’ll definitely need to get a hair trim, let’s put it that way.” She took my head in hand, lips pursed as she eyed me. “Does it hurt? Your skin is a painful-looking red.”

“It’s not pleasant, certainly. I have some salve in my workroom I can use to right this.” Her concern was touching, and I appreciated it, but I’d had worse. I was more irritated about the insult than the injury. “Walcott and I will definitely have words when we catch him.”

“Don’t blame you. Although I suppose we should have expected this. Or something like this. His denial about using the black market makes me think that’s what he was doing to actually pay the bills.” Jamie looked around at the filing cabinets lining the walls. “How much you want to bet the illegal activity has no record?”

“No bet.” I tapped the bag in my hand. “I didn’t recognize this particular grimoire, but I’d like to look into it. From what I saw, the cover was in a sorry state, worn and tattered. It could be he decided the contents were more valuable than the intact grimoire.”

“Hmm, yeah, I can see how that would work. Still, doing that alone with no magical protections? I mean, what was he working with, a razor blade and a ruler?”

“I fear so.” I’d left the tools on the desk to be collected later with all of the other evidence.

Jamie shook her head in exasperation. “Fool could have seriously hurt himself. I know you’re dying to get that thing in a proper containment locker, go on. I’ve got plenty of help here until you can rejoin us.”

Bless her. I was practically vibrating out of my skin, so keen was my desire to submit these into proper magical lockup. I leaned in and gave her a quick kiss.

“I’ll be right back. Do not find trouble while I’m gone.”

That devilish sparkle of mischief lit her face. “Wait, clarify that for me. Is this a don’t find trouble without me or I’m full up, can’t take any more today kind of thing?”

“The latter.” I rolled my eyes at her even as I speed-walked past, heading for the front of the building where the car was parked. Rethinking that, I paused at the doorway to relay, “Clint, Tasha, and Niamh are trying to hunt down Walcott’s trail in hopes of finding the taxi he took.”

“Ahh.” She glanced toward the window. “Good to know.”

The message imparted, I really did leave for the car. I wasted no time in loading up, and for once, I was the one speeding as I hurried back to the station. It was no longer raining, but the roads were slick, and I was likely going an inadvisable speed. But with light traffic for once, I made good progress and arrived at the station in under fifteen minutes, which was something of a godsend. I drove straight to the Evidence Building in the back.

Orrin was on duty at the reception desk, looking a little bored until I appeared in a frantic rush, the bag held in my hands. His whiskered nose twitched as he sat up, the werebadger alarmed at my alarm.

“Sir?! Do I want to know what’s in that bag?”

“A dismantled grimoire,” I reported grimly. “Orrin, I need a magical containment locker.”

Orrin’s face fell. “Doctor, I hate to tell you this, but we’re full up right now.”

“What?! How?” I know we didn’t have many magical containment lockers, a dozen altogether, but they were never all full. Or they hadn’t been in the past, the pandemic aside.

“Someone reported a bunch of charms left at a waste site and brought them in this morning. There were so many of them, I had to use about a half dozen lockers. The rest of the lockers are full up with weird potions used on murder cases, as well as a couple of objects recovered from a recent theft that we’re holding for safekeeping until the trial.”

We stared at each other for a full second, both of us displeased with the situation. Orrin dealt enough with magical items that he knew what I had in my hands could be quite dangerous if not properly handled. I’d vetted Orrin for this position, in fact, because of his knowledge and common sense.

“Well,” I said, not sure what else to say.

“Not ideal,” Orrin agreed, eyes fixed on the bag. “You’ve got it contained, sir?”

“I had two containment bags on me, fortunately. They’re sealed for now. But those bags don’t hold up for long.”

“No. No, not long enough for…great dark magic, sir, I don’t like this. We need a plan B.”

A thought whirled to life in the back of my mind.

“I might have one. Orrin, I’m going to leave this here temporarily, and I promise I’ll come back and properly tag it all later. But I’m going to make a request of Gregson and get an