Grimoires and Where to Find Them

by Raconteur, Honor

  The result alarmed me. I saw a breakdown of magical ink leaking from underneath the closed rolltop, signs of two magical elements bleeding into each other so badly I couldn’t quite discern what I was looking at. The air was charged with such chaotic power that I feared even standing this close to it. I immediately bent and scooped Phil up before darting back out of the room.

  Phil’s face tilted up to look at me. “Bad, Henri?”

  “Very much so, especially for you. I don’t want you stepping back into that room until I say so, alright?”

  “Okay.” He put a paw on my chest to keep himself upright, content for me to carry him about.

  I immediately went on a hunt for Jamie, who was in Walcott’s office, going through his drawers. She glanced up at my entrance.

  “Hey, I found a client list. We’ll definitely need to sit down and go through it.”

  “Jamie, I need that warrant extended if it doesn’t cover us breaking through locks,” I informed her tersely.

  She stopped rifling immediately, head popping up. “Why?”

  “There’s a rolltop desk in the file room leaking magic at a volatile rate. I must get in there to contain it.”

  “Craaaap. Okay, hand me Phil. The warrant covers us breaking stuff to get to files, so I think you’re good.” She reached out both hands for the kitten.

  I promptly handed him over and said, “Do not let anyone else into the file room until I’ve cleared it.”

  “Yeah, go, go.”

  I went, not quite at a jog, hurrying back into the room. I closed the door firmly behind me and immediately put up a ward on the walls and door. Nothing in here would affect Jamie—it would slough right off her like water on a duck’s back. I’d seen her wade through magical auras thicker than this without blinking an eye. But it would impact everyone else, and I didn’t want my coworkers to become ill.

  With the ward in place, I could breathe a little easier. I had my bag in here with me, stuffed with items I considered to be beneficial to keep on hand just in case. And it was one of those moments when my preparations proved to be handy. I drew out two bags to contain volatile magic—the same type of bag we’d used for the bad charms in an earlier case. With a containment bag in one hand, I hit the rolltop desk with an unlocking spell.

  It popped open immediately, and it was with due caution that I used the tip of my wand to encourage the rolltop to go up.

  The first sight of the desk made me hiss.

  It was a good thing Walcott had run. If I’d seen this when he was still on the premises, I would have flayed him alive. As soon as we caught him, I still would. How dare he do something not only so senseless but so stupid?!

  There was a knock at the door. “Henri, I see the ward, I won’t enter, but at least tell me what you’re seeing?”

  Of course Jamie would follow me, worried.

  “Walcott was cutting apart a grimoire on this desk.”

  A startled beat, then her voice went into the same octave as screeching Felixes. “He was WHAT?!”

  “You heard me. He was cutting the charm designs out, it seems. There’s a stack of cut pages off to one side. No wonder the blasted thing is leaking magic all over the place. He’s destroyed the integrity of the binding.”

  “Can you do something about it?”

  “Fortunately, I have the right bags on me. I can bag this up, clear the area of residual magic, and make it safe for people to enter again. Just give me a few minutes.”

  “Sure, sure. I’ll stand guard out here just in case. He’s okay, Phil, he’s done stuff like this before.”

  Ahh, so my feline friend was also concerned. I did adore that boy.

  I didn’t want to worry them further, so I moved efficiently, first pulling on gloves. I didn’t think we’d need much in the way of fingerprints here, but the gloves were also warded to protect my hands. With those on, I approached the first page with caution.

  It wasn’t just a charm he’d cut out. It was a cut-out charm resting on a hex design—the magic of both were bleeding together, the charm and hex activating each other’s magic in the worst ways. I gingerly reached for one, trying not to rub the pages together, as that would only aggravate the situation. Like rubbing oil onto embers.

  My efforts failed. The charm page was stuck to the hex, enough cling to it that it didn’t lift freely off. Oh no—dark magic, no—

  The two combined magics lit in a combustive burst of magic and flame. I threw myself backwards, letting go of both, landing hard on the carpet with a wince I barely registered. I threw up a personal shield, then hastily beat at my own forehead, as I felt heat lingering there. My eyebrows! I think it singed my eyebrows.

  Now this was really, truly beyond the pale. To be injured while exercising caution! Walcott and I would have words, no doubt about it.

  I rolled to my feet, as I had no time to be sitting here complaining, and threw a quick magical-suppression spell on the burning pages. I had to stop the flames before they destroyed the evidence and possibly burned down the building. The explosion had simmered into a smaller fire, something contained to the desk, so I was able to put it out well enough. Although that left a good portion of the evidence now half-burnt.

  Curses. Well, enough remained that I thought I’d be able to write a report and still use this as evidence. Although I’d likely get teased for 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 expert in here who can build something to cage it.”

  Orrin looked relieved. “Yes, sir, go. I’ll take the bag. I’ve got a nice unoccupied bit of shelving it can sit on away from everything else until you return.”

  See? The man has good common sense. “Thank you, Orrin, back in a bit.”

  I was once again jogging—a despised activity, and a testament to how bad this was—across the parking lot and through the back door. Even as I puffed for breath, I prayed Gregson was in his office. He was a very active captain and was not always in. I got to his office, finding it closed but the light on inside, so I had my hopes up as I knocked on the door.

  “Enter!”

  Oh, thank anything you care to name. He was in. I pushed open the door immediately and closed it just as quickly behind me.

  “Gregson. We’ve had a bit of a turn on the grimoire case, and I need an expert in here immediately.”

  This was a good day, as Gregson still had his suit coat on, peppered hair not mussed but still combed smoothly back. He did look prepared for it to turn into a bad day, though.

  “Lay the situation out for me.”

  “We interviewed a book broker. He ran at the first opportunity. Turns out he was hacking his own inventory to sell it in pieces. I’ve got a dismantled grimoire sitting in Evidence, leaking magic, and it’s dangerous enough to cause injury if not handled correctly. There’s no room for it to stay in Evidence—all the containment lockers are full.”

  Gregson sighed, eyes closing in a fatalistic manner. “I keep telling them we need more of those lockers. With the Shinigami Detective on my payroll, all the magical cases come to us by default. Alright. Do you know who to call in?”

  “Yes. I’ve a friend, Jere Mortimer, who designs protective boxes for grimoires. He’ll know precisely what to do to put this thing back to rights and get it contained again.”

  “Then get him in here. I’ll foot the bill.”

  And this was what made him a good boss. “Thank you, sir. I’m borrowing your telephone.”

  He waved to the phone sitting on the corner of his desk. I picked it up without hesitation, ringing the operator.

  “Number, please.”

  “Hiddleston Road, 4889.”

  “One moment.”

  The phone rang three times, and each ring ratcheted up my anxiety. Oh please, Jere, please be home.

  Finally, an answer, sounding distracted. “Hello?”

  “Jere, it’s Henri. I need you to grab your tools and head down here.”

  “Wha—why? Oh, blast it, did you find one of the grimoires?”

  “No. Long story short, the book broker was dismantling other grimoires. I’ve got one in pieces over here and it’s bleeding magic, literally.”

  Jere swore, loudly and creatively. Whatever was distracting him before, I had his full attention now. “Alright, where are you? I’ve got staging boxes for this sort of thing. What size is the grimoire?”

  “I’m at the police station. It’s roughly six inches wide, nine inches tall, maybe three inches thick? Several loose sheets as well. I’ve got them in containment bags right now.”

  I could hear him scrambling for shoes.

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. And curse it, Henri, I don’t want you calling me and telling me you’ve found even more grimoires in a dangerous state!”

  “Trust me, I hate it more than you do. Hurry, will you?” I cut off his grumble by hanging up.

  Gregson regarded me with a sort of weary amusement, the smile not really touching his eyes. “It truly does help me that you always seem to know the right people.”

  “Trust me, Captain, I’m relieved that I do. We’d be in dire straits, otherwise.”

  That was, sadly, not an exaggeration with this case. I was with Jere on this one. Less volatile grimoires in the future would be my preference, please and thank you.

  Henri had left in a screech of tires, and I was very sorry I wasn’t able to record that moment. I’d always wondered what it would take to get that man to actually go full speed. Apparently, grimoires leaking magic was the answer.

  I kept digging through the desk, looking for any hint of a clue, as right now all I had were questions. Lots and lots of questions. I may have used up my quota for questions on this case, in fact. Just one answer, was that too much to ask?

  Who knows how long I was at it when Foster came in with a worried expression. He was the last to arrive, looking a bit harried after the mad dash across town.

  I greeted him with a tired wave. “Hey, Foster.”

  “I think I passed Dr. Davenforth on the way in, but the car was speeding?”

  “Oh. Yeah, that was likely him.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask. Did something happen?”

  “Book broker was slicing up grimoires to sell in pieces. Henri found a dismantled grimoire in the file room, leaking magic.” Even as I explained, I sat back for a moment to give my neck a break from looking down. It was a cushy office chair, too. N
ice to sit in.

  Foster looked disturbed. “I’m glad he found it, then. This case seems intent on spiraling in more dangerous directions by the day.”

  “Yeah, and I can’t say I’m happy about it. Foster, we’ve got about a room’s worth of files to go through, and I’m not really keen on leaving it all here. The book broker is running free, and he might try to come back and destroy evidence. Let’s move it all to a conference room at the station.”

  Foster nodded but grimaced at the same time. “It’s a wise precaution, but that’ll take hours. Can I get a police wagon and boxes?”

  “Sure, it’s something we do on a semi-regular basis. I’ll call ahead and get it authorized, if you’ll go and fetch it all? Take Gerring with you, he’ll know the procedure.”

  Foster shrugged in agreement. “Sure. What are you hoping to find?”

  “The man was hunting for volumes of the Reaper’s Set with a specific clientele in mind. I really want to know who was hunting for the full set. That information doesn’t seem to be in his desk. I’ve gone through all of this.”

  “It’s interesting because every broker I’ve spoken to has said selling the full set would be impossible. It would be too expensive.” Foster rubbed at his furry chin in thought. “So, who could possibly buy it?”

  “It’s a really good question. Even the royal library could only afford a single volume, which says something. Do you guys have oil barons?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Or Saudi princes, maybe?” I muttered to myself. “You know, people who are stupidly rich and have so much wealth they can never spend it all.”

  “Ah. A few. Not many in this country, I would think, but I suppose one of them could afford to buy it.”

  I had a follow-up question, but I was interrupted by my pad ringing. Worried it was Henri, I immediately yanked it out of a pocket to answer. Oh, it was Sherard. Phew, okay, not an emergency.

  “Hey, Sherard, I’m in the middle of something.”

  “I hope you can drop it, then, because you’ll want to get over here.”

  He did not sound happy. I wasn’t going to like the sound of this. I could see it now. “What’s on fire?”