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

week that I haven’t had much of a chance to catch him up on anything. I did dash off a quick message to him saying Phil and Henri did the deed, and he was surprised, demanding all the details, but I told him he’d have to catch up with me sometime after tonight. I’ve had no time for a two-hour conversation.”

“Which is not an exaggeration, not with him.” Henri snorted. “He’s very fanatic about the details.”

I couldn’t deny that.

“It won’t give you trouble, will it?” Ophelia seemed quite worried about this.

I shook my head, reassuring her. “The reason why Jules gave me three Felixes is because he can’t predict how they’ll turn out. His own Felixes seem content to be pampered house cats. Mine want to work and get into everything. He’s trying to figure out what I’m doing differently. On the surface, there doesn’t seem to be that much of a difference in rearing, but we ended up with radically different cats. The fact that Phil chose to have Henri instead of me will just be another interesting set of data he didn’t predict. I do know this, though. If he doesn’t give a Felix to Queen Regina soon, his head is going to roll.”

Ophelia rolled her eyes expressively, a fan coming up to idly freshen her face. “That seems quite obvious to everyone except the man himself. And that he gave you three without giving her a single one has been quite some cause of ire, I understand.”

“Oh, she has a rant. And a soap box to deliver it on. You do not want to get her started on that, trust me.”

Eddy sidled in to stand at my elbow and then leaned in to say in a low tone, “He’s on the move. Got the book and everything.”

My eyes snapped around, head moving as I panned the room, but I saw no sign of what Eddy was telling me, much less anyone holding a book. “Who?”

“The man your eyes just slid past. Blue server’s coat, gold buttons, brown hair thinning in front. Just walked through to the kitchen.”

Bless Eddy’s eyes. I still had only a vague idea of who he meant. The place was crowded, but not that crowded. Even as I tried to focus, I found it hard to notice this man. He just had no presence to speak of.

I was on the move automatically, Henri and Eddy moving with me. I caught Foster’s eye, then Sherard’s, both of them in line of sight of the kitchen door, and I gestured urgently towards it.

Clint, I noticed, was on the trail of the man as well, as he darted through the swinging kitchen door like a purple bullet. I did my best to catch up with the cat without running anyone over in the process. It was something of a challenge. A lot of people were coming in and out of the door, and it was no wonder Massimo chose that as his exit point. Too much traffic for anyone to really notice him.

I got into the kitchen, frantically scanning for him, only to find Clint holding open the door of the kitchen, the one that led behind the house. He gave an impatient meow for me to come on, a move it, and I ran for him.

“Back car,” Clint said as I reached him, then he bounded away from the door and started sprinting down the driveway.

I put on a burst of speed, outstripping the cat in three bounds, holding my skirt up in one hand even as I pulled a gun out from the purse hanging at my side. “POLICE! STOP WHERE YOU ARE WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”

He threw a panicked look back, as if surprised anyone was pursuing him. Then he bolted for the car, throwing the door open before frantically diving inside. Or, trying to. He wasn’t moving quite right, as if his body was locked up a little on the right side.

Running wouldn’t save him. I put on another burst of speed and caught myself on the frame, ignoring the fact that he had the motor running. I got a grip on the door handle and opened it, and when he tried to close it, the gesture frantic and determined, I kept my hand gripping the frame—all he succeeded in doing was putting a nice hand-shaped dent in the metal. It didn’t hurt my hand any.

I wrenched the door completely off, throwing it casually aside, and enjoying the gob-smacked expression on his face. Yeah, sucker. I’d paid dearly for this strength, but in moments like this, it sure did feel good to use it. With a single fist, I caught him by the collar and dragged him physically out.

Massimo floundered like a starfish out of water, but he came. I didn’t give him much of a choice.

“Wait, I haven’t done anything—” he tried protesting.

“Searle Massimo, you’re under arrest for the theft of multiple books including grimoires from the Reaper’s Set. And a few hundred others.”

“That’s not my name!”

I looked him dead in the eye even as I kept a gun trained on him. “Do you prefer Samuel Laughlin?”

It was sunset out here, not the best lighting, but it was still easy to see how he paled a little. Yeah, sucker, I got your number. I know at least some of your aliases.

Henri and Sherard came puffing up, and Henri (bless him) immediately slapped handcuffs around Massimo’s wrists. “Maybe he prefers the name Nye Abbott.”

“That’s a good point,” I agreed with false civility. “Any other name you prefer?”

Massimo’s eyes closed in a fatalistic manner. “Fine. Fine, you obviously know who I am. Searle Massimo III. That’s my legal name.”

“Then, Mr. Massimo, we’ll start with the most urgent question.” Henri had an obvious tic near his eye as he demanded, “The grimoires you’ve stolen. Where are they?”

“They’re safe,” Massimo assured him.

“No,” Sherard said vehemently, puffing a little from the mad dash. “No, in your hands, they certainly aren’t. You realize the reason your apartment with