Grimoires and Where to Find Them Raconteur, Honor (read along books TXT) 📖

expert. I trusted he knew what he was talking about. I pulled out my notebook and jotted some of this down, just in case it became relevant later.

“And the magical ink in the book doesn’t bleed into the other pages? It stays properly in place?”

Jere grimaced at the question. “Yes and no. Like all things, magical ink does have a shelf life and will break down eventually. It holds out much longer than normal ink, granted. In theory, the hex inscribed in the book is not only meant to contain the magic, but to preserve the ink.”

The way he reacted gave me a clue. “How much work did the Reaper’s Set take, anyway?”

“More than I bargained for. I had to restore several pages in my volume alone. It was dangerous to leave it as it was.” Jere passed a hand over his face, and I noticed it shook a little. “I really do not like the idea of mine out in the world with some idiot who doesn’t understand how to handle it. Worse, the fourth volume, with no box at all.”

Growing wood and upheaved bricks, he’d said. The estate housing the volumes had been growing and merging into itself by the time they were discovered. Yikes, who wants a warped house going back to nature?

Jere’s head abruptly jerked up. “I need a calendar. Perhaps if I had my planner, I could work through it backwards and figure it out.”

“No harm trying,” Henri agreed.

Jere, funnily enough, took Clint with him as he left the room, hurrying through to what looked like a den. Clint went along for the ride, amenable to being carried about. He was a lazy kitty sometimes.

With Jere out of the room, I dared to ask Henri in a low voice, “Is Jere prone to overreacting or being dramatic?”

Henri shook his head before I could trot the whole question out. “Not at all. He’s the least prone to do so out of my friends. The fact that he’s this rattled tells a story in and of itself.”

“That’s kinda what I’d thought you’d say.”

Houston, we may be in trouble. Because if the expert who worked on this set was paranoid about the books being loose? Then I should be, too.

Jere came back with the planner in both hands, Clint now riding like a parrot on his shoulder, looking victorious.

“I think I have it narrowed down. I had two projects back-to-back that kept me working late hours, so I can confidently say I haven’t handled it since then. I was out of town for several days before that. I think it’s been anywhere from twenty-eight to thirty days since I last saw it.”

I mentally groaned. Crap, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

“Okay. At least we have a time frame to work with. That helps. Jere, sit with me. Some obvious questions are lacking answers. First, who all knew you had a grimoire?”

“It wasn’t a secret. When the sale of the Reaper’s Set was first announced, I was featured in the newspaper as the crafter of the boxes.” Jere passed a hand over his face, letting the planner relax in one hand. “It brought a lot of good business to my door.”

I bet it had.

“Okay. Has anyone recently come to talk to you about it? I’m trying to figure out how the thief knew it was here.”

“Oh. Oh, you’re right, that is a good question.” Jere sat still for a moment, brow furrowed as he thought hard. “I had a book broker, a man named Walcott, come and see me about possibly selling the grimoire. I honestly didn’t pay him much attention, as I was buried in a project at the time. He called again, I want to say a week later? Offered me a higher price than before. I told him no, and I haven’t heard from him since. Let’s see…I can’t think of anyone else. Not recently.”

I noted the name down with interest. The same broker Leor had spoken with. Interesting, and not that surprising. We definitely needed to talk to the man.

“Is there a record somewhere of who has each grimoire?”

“I think Lady Radman would have such a list. Oh, no, I think quite a few people were listed in the newspaper. It was a big story at the time because the grimoires are so expensive. Not everyone was named, mind you. Some people asked to be anonymous. But I want to say over half the owners were listed in the article. And, of course, I have a list of who has each one. If there’s ever an issue with a box, they’re to come to me for maintenance.”

Oooh, list. I loved lists. “Can I have a copy of that?”

“Of course! Anything I can do to help. You’ll warn the other owners?”

“First thing,” I assured him. And meant it. I also wanted to verify who still had their copy and whose had been stolen.

Jere’s expression turned anxious. “What can you do now?”

“Well, I actually called in a colleague. She’s a Woodland Elf, amazing tracker. I’m hoping she can pick something up from here that we can follow.”

Jere seemed to realize the problem quickly. “There are a lot of free-floating scents and magic in here.”

“Like I said, really hoping.”

“I suppose there’s not much in the way of clues, not after all this time.” He looked around again, as if seeing the room with fresh eyes. “I have a maid who comes in once a week to clean. She will have dusted away any evidence.”

Crap on a stick. There went any possibility of fingerprints.

“If you have a maid, then wouldn’t she have noticed the damaged lock?”

“Apparently not,” he sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Yeah…I’d like to talk to her anyway. Here, sit, give me a list of names of people who knew you had the ninth volume and where you kept it.”

Jere sat in the same spot, still slumped and depressed. “I mean, anyone who read the paper would know.”

“I’m referring to the ones who personally knew you and would know