Grimoires and Where to Find Them

by Raconteur, Honor

  Forms gathered, I turned to leave, only to hear my pad go off with an insistent ring. Oh no, now what? I pulled it out, saw Sherard’s name, and prayed he was in a fine mood this morning after being up most of the night. I wasn’t sure if I wanted something else to have gone wrong, even if it meant a break in our case.

  Against my better judgement, I answered. “Morning.”

  “It is unfortunately that,” Sherard agreed in a dark growl. Bears coming prematurely out of hibernation sound like that. I guarantee it.

  “That good of a morning, huh? Our young kingsmen are dead on their feet.”

  “It’s about to get worse for them. Jamie, I need you, Henri, and your ducklings here immediately.”

  “Where’s here and what’s happening?” Even as I asked, I was already jogging back to my desk.

  “Wharf Section, specifically an apartment complex on Denton Street. Some fool stashed grimoires all together in one room—”

  I’d reached my desk, and Foster’s head came up, tracking me, his ears swiveling to pinpoint Sherard’s voice coming out through the pad.

  “—and without any of the correct precautions. It’s…I don’t even know how to properly describe what I’m seeing. The walls are melting.”

  I blinked, then stared at the pad in confusion. “I don’t think I heard you right. Say again?”

  “You heard me right. The walls are melting. It literally looks like a candle dripping wax. Only it’s brick, and…this is the most disturbing thing I’ve seen magic do in some time. I’ve had to evacuate the building and throw up a temporary ward to contain the magic. It’s seeping in every direction and affecting the buildings around it.”

  That was seriously not good. “Denton Street, you said?”

  “Correct. I’ve got it contained for now, but I can’t process all of this on my own. And I fear this case in front of me might have something to do with yours.”

  “Either way, it’s in our district, so it’s our baby regardless. Give me fifteen minutes, I’ll meet you there.” I hung up and told Foster, “Get the other two, Colette, and as many of those containment bags as you can lay hands on.”

  Foster, bless him, immediately lurched out of the chair and ran.

  I owed them all a really nice dinner. I called Henri next, my mouth in a flat line and a wince on my face. Oh, this would go so poorly.

  He answered, sounding distracted. “I’m sorry for the delay, I’ll be there in a moment. I’m in line to get us all coffee and breakfast.”

  Awww. “I’d love that, but honey, you’re out of time.”

  He could no doubt hear it in my voice. Once again, it had all hit the fan.

  The next time he spoke, it sounded as if he were moving, and quickly. “What’s happened?”

  “Sherard just called. Some idjut stashed grimoires in a room with no protection spells. It’s affected a whole apartment building on Denton Street. The walls are apparently melting.”

  Henri made a pained noise. “Has Seaton managed to put any kind of containment around it?”

  “Said he had to ward the building. It was leaking magic in all the wrong ways and impacting the neighbors. I think our missing grimoires have finally exploded. You better get down there immediately. He needs our help—it’s too much for one man to properly contain and process.”

  “I’m five minutes away. See if Colette can help us. And call Jere.”

  “Ooh, now there’s a good idea. I’ve got Foster collecting containment bags and the other two. We should be ready to roll by the time you get here.”

  “Ever so efficient,” he said affectionately. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Yup.” I hung up and blew out a breath. Colette was right.

  It was going to be one of those mornings.

  One look at the apartment building in question and I understood precisely why Seaton had called us in. I’d thought it might solely be because of our missing grimoires. And I did expect the need for magical remediation, all things considered. But this…this far outstripped the scope of my expectations, and I wasn’t envisioning anything good to begin with.

  In all my days as a practicing magician and a magical examiner, not once had I seen something even remotely like this. It truly looked as if the three-story brick apartment building was made of wax and was slowly melting from the top down. One corner in particular, the far-left side, was the worst off.

  The sight was so dumbfounding I barely remembered to climb out of the car. Even after I was out of it, I stayed on the sidewalk, jaw agape. Was this an illusion? Surely, it had to be. How could brick even do that?

  “Davenforth!” Seaton called to me. The words thank all magic were not said, but implied in his tone. “Oh, you brought Colette, too! My dear lady, you are more welcome than words can express.”

  Colette’s expression, I felt, mirrored my own exactly. Her eyes were wide in her ebony skin, jaw dropped in an almost exaggerated manner. “Good gods, man, what in great magic is going on here? I thought it was just a grimoire not properly sealed!”

  “No,” Seaton corrected grimly, his face dark with anger and perhaps a touch of fear. “No, it’s an entire room of them.”

  Colette immediately did a superstitious sign in front of her chest to ward off bad luck.

  Too late for that, I fear. Our bad luck seems to not only be active but strung together.

  I questioned anxiously, “And what of the people who live in this area? I can’t imagine they’re not affected.”

  “Badly so. I’ve been fielding reports of people who are violently ill, hallucinating, the works. One man turned violent, was waving a butcher’s knife and chasing people. The police had to help me chase him down and he’s in the hospital, now, being treated.”

  Seaton ran a hand over his face, looking tired already, the makeup around his eyes smudging and aging him ten years.

  “I’ve ferried more than a few to the hospital while waiting on you. The ward I have up now is only the first step to mitigating this disaster, I fear.”

  A hand lightly touched my shoulder, and I turned my head to see Jamie leaning slightly into my side. She watched the building with a sort of grim resignation, as if mentally steeling herself to deal with it. I looked at her, this beautiful woman I loved more than anything, and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed to not immediately drag her from the scene.

  A single spell would do nothing to her. A string of spells, for that matter, wouldn’t touch her. But this—I didn’t know what this even was. This blend of magic and auras and power looked like an oil spill, only one touch of a candle’s flame away from becoming sheer carnage. Jamie was immune to magical spells, yes, but this wasn’t even a spell. Raw energy morphed in front of my eyes. It had no rhyme or reason, and Jamie’s protections might not even recognize it as magic. Belladonna had warded her against almost every spell known to man, and many an artificial construct as well, but this? There was no predicting this.

  Her eyes found mine, and I saw knowledge there, a recognition of what this was, even though she couldn’t see it like I could.

  “I shouldn’t go past the ward,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

  “No,” I answered, relieved she understood. “No, please don’t. I have no way of predicting if you’re immune to this or not, and I can’t take the chance.”

  “How bad does it look to you? I tried looking through the magic specs, but they basically overloaded and whited out on me.”

  Ah. That made sense. The spells on the police-issued glasses wouldn’t know how to read or interpret this scene. For that matter, I didn’t either.

  “It’s truly terrible. Imagine an oil spill that is residing near an open flame, and that’s akin to what I see in front of me.”

  She winced. “Ouch. Okay, we’re going to work on evacuating the immediate area. How far back do I need to pull people?”

  “Ten blocks. At least.”

  “Ten, I think I can do. Sherard!” She dropped her hand from my shoulde
r and jogged toward him, no doubt to work on pulling kingsmen and other police officers in to coordinate the evacuation and get people out of range quickly.

  I left her to it, as she was best suited to doing that portion of the work. Myself, I had this mess to deal with.

  “Henri.” Colette waved to the building ahead of us, her expression a little lost. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “I’m not sure we can until Jere gets here. Honestly, we don’t have enough bags to contain all of this. And even with a royal mage here, the amount of cleanup is just…too much for the three of us.”

  She nodded in agreement but not in relief. “Yes, I’m not saying otherwise, but…I think protection hexes on our skin would be best. Even protective clothing isn’t enough here.”

  A very excellent suggestion. I did keep coveralls in one of my bags for situations…not like this, not on this scale, but where magic had gone wild. But she was correct—they didn’t fully cover my hands, my head, or my feet, and we needed full protection here.

  “I can draw a hex on you, if you would return the favor?”

  “Chest,” she directed. “Or back of the neck.”

  “Back of the neck, less likely to have something smudge up against it.”

  “Oh, good thought.” She immediately retreated back to the car, fetching her own bag.

  I did likewise. We needed to get in there and assess the full damage so we’d know what kind of help to call in to mitigate damage and set things back to rights.

  I had Colette’s hex drawn onto her skin and she was working on mine when Seaton joined us. He looked over the design and gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Excellent idea. Me next, if you would, dear lady.”

  “Sure,” Colette agreed easily. But her tone was worried. “We’ve got our friend Jere coming in. He’s the one who creates protective boxes for grimoires.”

  “I’m aware of him. Excellent craftsman, or so I understand, and I’m relieved he’s coming. I’ve made my own calls, and I have a dozen kingsmen heading this direction. Six to aid Jamie and her ducklings in evacuation, the other six with us.”

  I did not think nine people sufficient for the task. “Just them?”

  “No, we’re drawing on the local police station as well. While waiting on your arrival, I notified them and gave instructions, so they’re gearing up as well and should be here momentarily. I’m sending in uniforms to spread the word, ordering an evacuation of fifteen blocks’ circumference around this building.”

  So, he was choosing to be even more cautious. I couldn’t say I blamed him. And thank anything you care to name that a royal mage had the power to call a radio station and issue those kinds of orders without argument.

  Time. Time was very much not on our side at the moment. This situation would not improve with age. It would only get worse, and we’d suffer the longer we were in there.

  “Hello, all,” said a voice I knew well.

  I couldn’t look up—Colette would smack me for ruining her handiwork—but I knew who was approaching, and I was grateful Gibson was on scene. He was a man who knew how to get the work done without panicking in the process.

  “Gibson, you made excellent time,” Seaton greeted him. “Let me catch you up. We’re applying protective hexes directly to the skin for full coverage. A friend of these two is coming to help, and he specializes in crafting protective boxes for grimoires. We’re evacuating everyone within fifteen blocks of this area. Who all did you bring with you?”

  “Usual suspects. We’ve got Marshall, Lansing, Rembar, Jonestone, and Baker.”

  “Excellent, their magic is up to par for this.”

  Colette finished and gave me a tap on the shoulder. “Done. Sherard, sit down.”

  I changed places with Seaton, letting him sit sideways in the car to give Colette access to the back of his neck. It was a relief to be able to lift my head again, even if the view wasn’t one I wished to see.

  Gibson offered a hand, and I shook it. “Very glad you’re here.”

  Then I offered a hand to the rest, greeting the other kingsmen who were still staring at the building in jaw-dropped astonishment.

  With Colette busy, I pulled each aside, painting the hex on them, too. Then Gibson started to help, no doubt realizing we really had to get in there to get things sorted.

  Eventually, we had no more reasons to delay. The idea of retrieving the grimoires from the Reaper’s Set was only semi-motivational. Retrieving them meant having to deal with them at their most chaotic. Still, best to get this over with. I grasped my bag in a white-knuckled grip, promised myself a three-day weekend after this, and waded through the ward as if I had glass in my shoes.

  Seaton led the charge, throwing over his shoulder, “The landlady gave me a key to the place, so the apartment is already open for us.”

  A wrinkle I hadn’t thought of, but he’d been on scene longer than any of us. “Good to know.”

  Marshall called from the rear, “I’ve only got twenty bags on me. How many books are in there, RM Seaton?”

  “Too many to count at a glance,” Seaton reported. He did so with open dread even as we topped the first riser and continued up past the second level. He did cast a glance over the open wood balustrade and gave us all more of a clue. “The apartment is a standard one-bedroom, and it’s filled with bookshelves to the point that I can’t see a single wall or surface.”

  We were going to be here for ages. Assuming the building held up that long.

  “Why would anyone store that many grimoires in one place? Even us magicians don’t have more than a dozen or so grimoires!”

  “My only thought is that this is either a very stupid collector, or more likely a thief using this place as a storeroom. I can’t think of any other possibility. And since most of the grimoires have no protective boxes, I’m leaning toward thief over collector. A collector would be adamant about keeping the box with the grimoire. Removing it lowers the value of the grimoire, after all.”

  A sound point, and sound reasoning. I had no objection. It just pained my soul that we had to clean up after this idiot.

  And I definitely did not bring enough bags, although I’d brought all the station had in stock.

  Gibson muttered, “I’m preempting that problem now.”

  I cast a glance over my shoulder, saw him pause long enough to pull out his pad and scribble a quick note. Ah. Calling for more bags to be brought in. Smart of him to do it now. Binding cloths might do the trick, too, if some of the grimoires were a low enough level. Although we’d have to get up there to make that evaluation.

  We stepped quickly up to the third floor. The apartment in question was immediately to the left, the door wide open. The…liquid…door. I swear to you, it was trying to drip off its own frame even as I looked, and the wood fibers were in a liquid puddle on the hallway floor.

  Was the floor inside even safe to step on?

  Seaton seemed to have the same question, as he stepped gingerly inside. “I did throw down some reinforcement spells to keep this apartment attached to the building. But…well, they’re already getting sucked into this magical soup. Step lightly, everyone.”

  I really, truly did not like the look of this.

  The first glance inside the room reinforced what Seaton had described. It was a standard one-bedroom with an open floor that connected living area to kitchen, with room for a small table in between. The table was mounded over with books, as were the kitchen counters, so clearly this place was not lived in. It was meant to store the books, nothing more.

  The walls had bookshelves of all types, nothing uniform about any of them, and they were crammed with books. Not even arranged vertically as usual, but horizontally, to buy the owner more space. It was entirely ridiculous.

  And the protective boxes around the grimoires were scarce, indeed.

  I couldn’t tell at a glance how many grimoires there were, but I did see that some vintage books were mixed in. Not all of them were grimoires, then. Which was goo
d, but only marginally helpful. I wished I could tell which would be our Reaper’s grimoires, but unfortunately their exteriors weren’t remarkable—just plain leather covers. We’d have to shuffle through this mess to find them. And it was a chaotic mess, no question.

  No wonder the building was suffering from the onslaught. There was absolutely nothing here to contain the magic. Not every grimoire comes standard with protection—that was a modern addition. These grimoires looked old, some of them at least a century, so odds were half of them didn’t have a sealing hex on the signature page. And not all of them looked to be in the best condition, either. The covers gave that impression. So, we had poor quality grimoires stacked together by a thief known for leaving protective boxes behind. Ye little gods, I felt a migraine incoming at the sight of this madness.

  Baker—a kingsman I did not know well—gave a groan long and loud as he stepped into the room. “Where do we even start?”

  “Books nearest the door,” Colette advised with a sharp, pragmatic nod, as if she was agreeing with her own assessment. “The more we clear out, the better the situation gets. If we start with the books nearest us, we have less of a chance of the floor collapsing halfway through the job. Skip the vintage books for now, focus on the grimoires first.”

  It was an entirely practical suggestion, and I approved. “Seaton, I also think that’s the best way to go about this.”

  Seaton inclined his head towards Colette, expression approving.

  “As do I. Alright, unprotected grimoires first. The boxed ones we’ll leave be unless they show signs of being compromised. Baker, Lansing, you’re better runners than the rest of us. You two stay at the door and run the grimoires down and set them in the bottom parlor for now.”

  Also a good suggestion. We couldn’t take them out of the ward yet—there was no one to guard them outside, and we didn’t have enough vehicles for this haul. But leaving them up here wasn’t an option, either. The downstairs parlor at least assured that the books wouldn’t go straight through the floor and crashing through other apartments.

  I felt sorry for the two kingsmen, however, as that would be quite the workout.