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

What we had here might be enough help to deal with this quickly, as Jamie said. I certainly hoped so. At any rate, we were ready to begin within moments.

Jamie changed with lightning speed into tan trousers and a black shirt, her running shoes on. Seaton had the ward up and functioning. Kingsmen and policemen alike lined up at the door, bags in hand, grim determination on their faces.

We all seemed to take in a collective breath, for courage. Or perhaps to enjoy fresh air for a moment before entering the abyss waiting on us. And then we soldiered inside.

I will say this. It wasn’t as bad in here as it had been at the flat. We had that in our favor, at least. Possibly because there weren’t as many grimoires, or possibly because there was more space in the house. The parlor was to the left of the front door, the study in the back right of the house, so we divided and conquered.

I, of course, had every intention of finding the Reaper’s grimoires first, as they were the most valuable and volatile. Not to mention I had their protective boxes on hand, so they’d be an easy thing to sort. But that determination went up in so much smoke the moment I stepped into the study.

I could not believe my eyes.

He’d done the same thing here as he had in the flat. The grimoires were stacked in the same way, crammed onto bookshelves, every wall with floor-to-ceiling shelves. And then he’d added more bookshelves in the middle of the room to create aisles. There was barely room for one person to walk between the bookcases without slamming into either side. Magic swirled in colorful eddies, rising like smoke to hover thickly at the ceiling, essentially making the place so confining that I couldn’t take a proper breath in here.

Colette stopped at my side, her tone disgusted. “Didn’t Massimo say something like he wanted the books to make him look educated? How does this make a good impression? It’s like a hoarder’s house in here!”

“I have no answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me, either. He seems to have no real understanding of quality, so he went for quantity instead.”

I shook my head, as trying to grasp the man’s logic did no good. And this was enough of a headache; I didn’t need to add to it.

A grimoire sparking magical embers on a shelf caught my eye. I put on a protective glove, grabbed a bag, and went for it before it really did explode and take most of the wall with it. That’s how it started—me reaching for the most volatile thing that caught my eye and bagging it, sealing it properly before putting it on the table next to the door for Jamie to collect.

There was a great deal of conversation between all of us as we worked, mostly because the confines of the rooms were so narrow that we were constantly moving around each other and asking for space. Still, even over the hum of words, I heard snatches of song.

“It’s been a hard day’s night,” Jamie sang as she jogged to the table, scooped up an armful of books, then turned and jogged back towards the door. “And I’ve been working like a dog~”

It was comforting, to hear her sing even though I didn’t recognize the melody or lyrics. It put a smile on my face.

Jere turned from the stack he was working on, a bewildered expression on his face. “She’s singing?”

I could just see him around the bookcase and bent backwards enough to see him more clearly as I explained, “Jamie likes to sing as she works. Or when she’s happy. Or when she’s up to mischief. She’s something of a songbird.”

“Ah. I don’t recognize the song.”

“You normally don’t,” I agreed, and then went back to work, a half-smile lingering on my face. Something about Jamie’s singing made it feel like we’d get through this fine. She wasn’t stressed to the point that music disappeared. I knew when she stopped singing, things had turned for the worse.

This wasn’t one of those times.

The tune she sang was catchy, the chorus was repetitive, and I found myself humming along with it. I shouldn’t stress. The Reaper’s grimoires were in here somewhere. We’d find them. Jere was on hand to help put them safely back into their boxes. This would be fine.

“Found one!” Jere called, voice going high with excitement. “It’s—oh, gods above. Henri!”

I immediately put down the book in my hand and raced as quickly as I could in the narrow space to reach his side. He had his back to me, nothing in his hands, and I saw why once I was close enough to look over his shoulder.

The Reaper’s grimoire not only was leaking magic, but smears of magic from neighboring grimoires had turned the edges of the leather cover dark and brittle. It looked rather like someone had taken three magical potions, all with disagreeable content, and dumped them together on top of the book. The backlash was already threatening the integrity of the wall, and the shelves around it resembled a lit candle, dripping and melting. The ceiling was already glooping in puddles of plaster on the floor. I didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole, much less stand this close to it.

“Henri.” Jere’s tone was flat with anger. “There’s something sticking out of the top of the book, do you see it?”

I had to take a closer look to see what he meant. There was a slender piece of paper, somewhat flattened at the top, but it looked like a bookmark. Or something being used as a bookmark. But there was a hint of a design there, a curve of black lines and such, and I almost dismissed what my eyes reported. Because surely no one could be that stupid.

“Is that…is that a charm?”

“I think it is.