Grimoires and Where to Find Them

by Raconteur, Honor

  Ellie scoffed even as she hopped off the stool and sailed past him. “Get in line. I’ve got requests queuing out the door.”

  Seaton was not one easily dismissed and followed her out, still speaking. “Bargain with me, Ms. Warner. I can offer you magical help in return.”

  Warner paused to shoot him a look, this one calculated. “Oh?”

  Snickering quietly, Jamie whispered to me, “I’m going to bet Sherard gets his way.”

  “No bet.” Although, really, what in the wide green world did Seaton have up his sleeve now?

  I somehow didn’t want to know.

  After such an exciting night, I expected something to have happened on my ducklings’ end, too. A lead. A clue. Something. Instead, they reported that the brokers were surprised at the news, but nothing earth-shattering came back to them.

  They had managed to speak to most of the people on our list. We’d not caught everyone at home the night before, and I’d missed a few of the owners of the Reaper’s Set. I still had two to follow up on, and of course the ducklings were still wading through the many book brokers in the city. But I really, really wanted to talk to a particular book broker, one Sasson Walcott. Henri agreed it seemed a good place to start this morning, so that’s where we headed first.

  Henri drove again. It was drizzling, and for some reason the idea of me driving in the rain sent him straight into heart palpitations. I didn’t really mind. It wasn’t like you could go fast in this bumper-to-bumper traffic, anyway. Everyone was commuting to work, and the roads were jam-packed.

  As we drove, my pad dinged and I pulled it out. Ah, Ellie. I read the message and snorted in amusement.

  “Ellie reports that she now has a hand-held device that will clip onto the top of the Kindle, allowing for both viewing and touch screen ability.”

  Henri shook his head. “She stayed up all night, didn’t she?”

  “That would be my guess. She’s so excited right now, I think she’s bouncing off the walls. And the caffeine, for once, has nothing to do with it.”

  “I noticed that when you handed her the device, you didn’t give her a priority list.”

  “Hmm, yeah. Hard for me to do. I have a better grasp of what she can feasibly make with this level of technology, but sometimes Ellie surprises me. The engine modifications to the bike, for instance. She completed those far more easily than I expected. And I know that a lot of the prototype designs are coming out of her pocket. She sometimes has to pick a project based on how easy it will be to manufacture and market, just to keep a good revenue stream coming in.”

  “It makes sense. Of course, all of that has to be considered.”

  “Yup. I can’t complain, I’m making a mint off everything we collaborate on. Ellie has great business sense.”

  Henri shot me a considering look as he slowed at a stop sign. “You could actually buy a house, couldn’t you?”

  Outright, if I chose something nice instead of outlandish. The things I invented with Ellie sold very, very well, and I got a percentage of each sale. Not a huge amount, but it did add up quickly when the products went worldwide, as most of them had done.

  “I could. I chose the apartment initially because I didn’t have that kind of money when I first started out. And then I stayed because I like living next to you and being close to work.”

  “And I’m glad you did so.” The smile he gave me was soft with affection.

  I grinned back a little helplessly. Seriously, when he looked at me like that, I melted.

  “I am too. Turns out it was a really good decision.”

  “The best.”

  He made a turn—I actually had no idea where we were in Kingston, so just as well he was driving—and then cleared his throat a little. It was a Henri-ism for something he wanted to say but was afraid might come out awkwardly.

  “I’m not complaining, mind you. Well, perhaps I am. We’ve been so busy as of late that we’ve had little personal time with each other.”

  “Trust me, I’m not happy about it either. We definitely need to carve out some time. Tell work to go hang.”

  He settled visibly, pleased I agreed. “Yes, we need to be firm on this. At the end of the day, let’s settle with our planners and find at least a day in the near future.”

  “Done.” Even as I said it, I had a feeling it would happen after this case was closed. Gut feeling. This case was a little more volatile than usual, after all. I also had a gut feeling it would get worse before it got better.

  And may the city not implode or melt due to unprotected grimoires running about, Amen.

  We pulled up in front of a snooty building. You know what I’m talking about. Where it’s this perfectly pristine business building, every leaf trimmed and arranged just so on the shrubbery, literally looking like someone tore it out of a magazine and dropped it into place on the sidewalk. It didn’t surprise me, not really. The book broker handled the upper crust for his clientele, after all. He would have to, if he was buying and selling rare grimoires.

  I only had Clint with me today, as the kittens had decided they wanted to play with Niamh and Gerring. Foster was stuck with phone duty, trying to reach the people we’d missed on the first round. I hoisted Clint up onto a shoulder as we headed into the building. Henri got the door. There was no chime, but a smartly dressed man at the front desk in a three-piece suit greeted us with a cordial smile.

  “Hello and welcome to Walcott’s. How may I help you?”

  I juggled cat to pull a badge out and show it to him. “Detective Edwards, and this is Dr. Davenforth. We’re inquiring about some stolen grimoires that we understand Mr. Walcott has a vested interest in. Is he available for a quick interview?”

  “I believe so. His next appointment isn’t for another hour. Let me inform him that you’re here.”

  “Thanks.”

  I waited patiently as he left, taking a good look around me. Everything was so polished it gleamed. And the rug was incredibly plush and looked brand new. This place screamed money, but in the wrong way. It was trying too hard to impress. The Davenforths were old money in Kingston, and they didn’t decorate like this.

  I could see the same evaluation on Henri’s face, and we shared a speaking look.

  The receptionist was back out a second later, smile still intact. “Come through, please. Mr. Walcott will speak with you.”

  Excellent, maybe we’d get some answers. I sailed through, keeping my right hand free for a handshake, Henri directly on my heels.

  Walcott wasn’t quite what I’d expected. If a gazelle were given human form, it might look like Sasson Walcott. He was tall in a gangly way, thin, and dressed in a light brown suit that blended so perfectly with his skin color it was hard to tell where suit ended and skin began. Even his hair was the same shade. Did the man not understand the beauty of contrast?

  I kept the thought off my face as I greeted him. “Hello, I’m Detective Edwards. This is my partner, Dr. Davenforth.”

  He shook my hand, the gesture weak and flimsy. His cuffs had some strange ink stains around them, but I suppose being in the book business, ink stains were just a hazard of the profession. He retracted his hand quickly, as if noticing my observation and hiding his hands in embarrassment.

  “Detective. Doctor. Please, have a seat. I understand you’re here about some books that have been stolen?”

  “Grimoires, to be precise.”

  I got my bearings as I took a seat in a blue velvet chair. This room also screamed wealth needlessly. The art on the walls were landscapes, but pricey. The back wall of the office was covered with built-in shelves that artfully displayed books, clearly a silent testament to what this broker could lay his hands on. I’m not sure if even Henri would recognize a single title.

  Walcott seemed a little nervous as he took his seat behind the desk. I cut the guy some slack. Most people were nervous when a cop came knocking on their door. Especially a cop like me, with a purple cat in my lap. I had to look Willy Wonka kinda strange.


  “Mr. Walcott, here’s the situation.” Henri leaned forward slightly, a disarming smile on his face. “We’ve had a rash of thefts in the past month that deal specifically with the Reaper’s Set. At this point in time, we have confirmed that three grimoires were stolen.”

  Hopefully it was only three. Foster would update me if that wasn’t the case.

  Walcott blanched. “Good gods, what?”

  “Given the nature of the grimoires in question, you can see why we’re alarmed. Especially as two of them were stolen without their protective boxes.”

  “I’m equally as alarmed, I assure you. I suppose you’re here to talk to me because I was trying to buy them?”

  “Yes, in fact. We understand you were trying to assemble the set in order to sell it as a whole. I find this remarkable, as it’s very expensive to purchase even a single volume. May we ask who wanted to purchase the full set?”

  “I admit it was a limited buying pool, but I did have several interested parties. Two of whom stipulated owning the entirety of the set or nothing at all.”

  “Is that usual, that sort of request?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Oh yes, not at all strange,” Walcott assured me. “Collectors prize full sets. They’re rarely inclined to buy a single volume without knowing whether they will be able to eventually obtain the whole thing.”

  Those people likely had too much money and too little sense, but I was diplomatic enough to not say so. “Can you give us names?”

  “I’m sorry, my clients would not want that information disclosed.”

  I figured. “Can you tell us if there has been any sign of someone forcibly trying to obtain the set for themselves? You surely hear rumors in this industry.”

  Walcott was starting to sweat a little now, his smile pasted onto his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. I don’t deal with the black market, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

  Uh. What? I didn’t mean that at all. I shot Henri a look, wondering if I’d phrased something wrong, but he looked just as perplexed.

  “She meant someone pressuring another to sell,” Henri clarified.

  “Right,” I agreed. “You spoke to quite a few people who have parts of the Reaper’s Set, after all. Not one agreed to sell a volume to you, but surely you heard from them about anyone else who was interested? Or nosing around, trying to do the same thing, collect the full set?”

  “I—I, no, I can’t say that I have. Oh, but I do have notes on the people I spoke with. Perhaps those would be of interest to you?”

  Seriously, why was this guy rattled? You’d think I was accusing him of a crime.

  “Sure, that’d be a good place to start.”

  “I’ll fetch them for you.” He popped up like a jack-in-the-box and was out the office door so fast I think air vacuumed in his wake.

  I turned to stare after him. “Henri. Did that look strange to you?”

  “Very much so.”

  “You think maybe he recognized me?”

  Henri hummed a note thoughtfully. “Perhaps. That’s what I attributed his nerves to. But….”

  “Yeah, something’s still off.”

  I got up on instinct and followed Walcott out of the office. He darted into another office farther down the hallway, closing the door behind him. With my super-hearing, I heard it clearly when he slammed the lock into place.

  He’d just…locked himself in another room.

  Oh yeah, that didn’t look suspicious or anything.

  I called over my shoulder even as I ran for the door, “Henri, I think he’s running!”

  There was a startled “WHAT?!” and then I could hear him pounding after me.

  I didn’t have a warrant, but when someone runs, you chase them. I hit the door hard, and it wasn’t much of a match for my speed and strength, even as sturdily as it had been built. It broke around the lock, the wood giving way before the metal did. I burst through, taking one second to get my bearings, and blinked.

  Wait. Where did he go?

  An open window caught my eye, and I went for it on instinct, hands bracing on the sill as I looked out. Son of a—seriously? He’d just rabbited out of the window rather than answering some rather basic questions? I mean, he wasn’t even a suspect!

  Henri caught up, puffing from the mad dash. “I don’t see him. Did he jump out the window?”

  I could hear the same incredulity from him. Gesturing towards the wide-open window, more than large enough for a man to go through, I grumbled, “Apparently. I don’t think I’m that scary, Henri. Something smells, and it ain’t fried chicken.”

  “No, something is very off with this whole picture.” Henri tapped a finger to his chin before volunteering, “Why don’t I go back and speak to the gentleman at reception?”

  I saw where he was going with this and approved. “I’ll get a judge on the line and get a warrant to search this place. I’ll call in the others while I’m at it. This business suddenly became a whole lot more interesting. I have this sudden, burning need to go through all of the files. All.”

  He gave me an approving nod. “As do I.”

  As he left, Clint approached, nose going like mad.

  I knelt down and put us at eye level. “I need you to get your sniffer out, bud. Go through the window, see if you can pick up his trail at all. I know there’s a lot of foot traffic outside, so it might be hard to catch it.”

  Clint nodded seriously, his adorable little face in field-cat mode. “I’ll try. If not, come back?”

  “Yeah. If any of our grimoires have been here, they’ll have left an obvious scent. I’ll need your nose here, too.”

  “Okay, okay.” Clint sniffed the air, apparently caught what he wanted, and was out the window in a single bound.

  Cats and their athletic ability amazed me. I’d at least look before hopping out a window. Him, he didn’t think twice about it.

  Shaking my head, I went looking for a phone to use. I knew a judge or two who liked me, and it was time to call them. After I got a warrant in the works, I’d call the other three, have Gerring swing by and pick up the warrant for me. I didn’t want to leave Henri here on his own. The receptionist might or might not be in on it.

  Whatever it was.

  And to think, I thought this was going to be an easy day of interviews.

  Our search of Walcott’s office had to wait until the warrant arrived, which meant cooling our heels a bit. I borrowed a phone and made a few calls, one to Foster to see how he was faring as he tried to reach the other grimoire owners. He’d managed to reach all of them, confirming that each still had their volume, which was a definite relief. At least our thief hadn’t gotten the drop on all the owners. I told him to join us, as I had a feeling we would need all hands on deck.

  Niamh was the first to arrive, Gerring close on her heels with warrant in hand. Jamie had already taken charge of the scene, and while she went through the steps of closing the office down for investigation, I started into the files. I had a feeling something in these files would give us an answer to the question of why Mr. Walcott had run.

  Clint came back to the same window he’d exited, sitting on the sill and looking peeved, his ears flat on his head.

  I greeted him with a nod. “Lose his trail?”

  “Yes,” Clint growled, aggravated. “He got in taxi.”

  “Ah. Well, that was rather to be expected. I certainly would have, in his place.” It did make tracking him harder, though.

  Niamh strode into the room at that moment, both kittens at her heels, and greeted me with a quick smile. “Doctor. Can I help you?”

  “Rather, can you help Clint?” I corrected with a wave toward the upset feline. “He was trying to track Walcott, but he seems to have gotten into a taxi.”

  “Ah, taxies.” She did not sound enthused by this news. “They’re truly the worst when it comes to tracking. They cut off all presence and scent. Still, I’d like to see where he got into the taxi, maybe later we c
an track down which taxi driver picked him up.”

  “Splendid thought.” I approved.

  “Clint,” Niamh requested, already striding toward the window. “Show me.”

  Clint turned and leapt lightly back out, Tasha on their heels. Phil, however, joined me. I was pleased but not surprised by this. Phil typically chose to join in whatever pursuit I was in. I had snitched a chair from the lobby area to sit in, with a file open on my lap, so he had no room to join me. But I lowered a hand to give his head a good scratch around the ears. He purred at me, tail flipping back and forth like a happy pendulum.

  “Would you care to help me, then?” I inquired.

  He blinked golden eyes at me. “Yes. What are you doing?”

  “That, my friend, is the question of the ages. I’m trying to discern why Mr. Walcott ran. I assume there is something incriminating in one of these storage rooms. If you could start with a general sweep of this room and the connecting room, see if anything smells odd to you.”

  “Like magic?”

  My interest sharpened, as that hadn’t sounded like a rhetorical question. I’d felt something was off but wasn’t able to put a finger on it, as I saw nothing abnormal about the room. But his senses were infinitely more refined than mine. “Do you smell magic?”

  “Yes.”

  I put the file abruptly down. It had just become imperative that I follow him. There should absolutely not be a scent of magic in a file room. The fire-suppression hexes weren’t even in this room, but engraved into the side of the building. I’d already checked for those and security wards.

  “Show me.”

  He promptly went into the connecting room, his nose twitching, head panning a bit until he’d locked properly onto the location of the scent. Without hesitation, he reached up on his hind legs and pawed at a rolltop desk, currently closed and locked.

  “Here.”

  I pulled a wand from my pocket, flipped my notebook to a blank page, and enacted a diagnostic spell. “Reveal elements.”