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

noise at the first kiss, then melted into it when he realized my agenda for the evening had changed. He kissed back happily, his hands tangling into my hair. The man’s a good kisser, no lie.

The phone rang.

Are you freaking kidding me? I pulled back to glare at it. “My agenda for the evening is kissing you. Not going back into work.”

Henri matched me glare for glare, also staring at the ringing telephone with indignation. “You can kill whoever it is and come directly back here.”

“Great idea.” I popped up, striding the three steps it took to reach the little telephone table, and snatched up the receiver before snarling into it, “What?”

A voice I recognized—I think it was our front desk clerk, Kynan—answered in an apologetic tone. “Hey Detective, sorry to bother you at home. But we had a man by the name of Sasson Walcott walk in a minute ago. Said he’s turning himself in and is demanding to speak with you and Dr. Davenforth.”

I blinked, my rage immediately flip-flopping into excitement, curiosity, and the feeling that we were heading for a massive plot twist. “Wait, you’re sure it’s him?”

“Positive. Got his ID and everything. Here’s the kicker, and why I’m calling—he said he’s come to us for protection.”

“Protection from what?” I was already mentally putting shoes back on because no way am I going to sleep tonight without talking to Walcott first.

“That, he won’t tell me. Just said if we don’t take him in tonight, that someone’s going to kill him.”

Yup, as expected. The plot twist has arrived. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Henri groaned loudly as I put the receiver down. “This better be good.”

I said, “Sasson Walcott just turned himself in and demanded protection because he claims someone is going to kill him.”

Henri blinked at me. Then immediately lurched to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”

Color me surprised.

Sasson Walcott looked very different than he had earlier that day—no longer the posturing gentleman, but a hunted man who sat hunched in his chair, afraid and miserable. Jamie went ahead of me into the interrogation room, where they’d temporarily stashed him while he was waiting for our arrival. I followed closely at her heels, ready to hear either the truth or a whopper of a story.

With criminals, it could be either.

Jamie spoke as she drew out the chair opposite him, sitting confidently, as if it was her due. “Well, Mr. Walcott, I didn’t expect this. After you ran from us this morning, the last thing I expected was for you to turn yourself in this evening. May I ask what changed?”

“I panicked earlier,” he admitted heavily. “And…after I ran, I went to an acquaintance for help. But doing that meant crossing paths with someone I really didn’t want to meet, and he’s now threatening my life.”

That did and didn’t answer the question. I was still very upset with him, more so after looking in a mirror and seeing the damage to my face. I’d had to trim my fringe and apply several potions and creams to restore myself to rights.

But as much as I wanted to cut this man to the quick, answers trumped my personal feelings.

I sat as well and requested, “Start at the beginning, please. We know you’ve been dissecting grimoires and selling the pages. What started you on that path?”

He stared at his hands—both in cuffs—on the table as he spoke in a dead voice. It was only then that I really noticed his hands. The nails were cracked and the pads stained a very unhealthy purple-grey. I’d suspected he’d been on the receiving end of magical backlash due to his work. The hands confirmed it, although I had to wonder what other ailments now plagued him.

“When I first opened the office, I was sure the clientele would come in quickly. I was in such a good location, after all. But it was slow to build up. I’d jumped too hastily into moving offices, and the rent alone was killing me.

“I happened across an old grimoire in an estate sale, and when I got it back and examined it, I realized the cover and binding were done for. But some of the pages inside were quite unique. The charms were very beautifully drawn. I’ve been in this business long enough to know that with the right charms, a single sheet can sell well. The book was more valuable in pieces than it was as a single volume.”

I winced. “You realize those charms are normally put into glass displays.”

“I did take precautions. I pasted sealing charms on the back of them before selling them.”

That did make me feel marginally better. There was not much margin to begin with, mind you.

Jamie made a noise of encouragement. “So, that worked out well for you. And you decided to continue?”

“At first it was only the books I knew wouldn’t sell well,” he said miserably. “It wasn’t just grimoires, either. Vintage books that I came across with poor covers and bindings. The best find was the geographical book with the maps that folded out. That helped me pay the bills for six months. It was such easy money. And no one questioned why I had these pages, but not the whole book. They assumed I found them at estate sales—which, most of them, I had—and didn’t ask any difficult questions.”

A slippery slope, and I could see how it could happen. The problem was, he’d graduated from small, insignificant books no one cared about to some very valuable books he was decimating for his own ends.

On behalf of the books, I was upset with him.

Jamie led him forward again when he stalled. “And then we showed up at your doorstep this morning.”

“Right. I knew I was in trouble then. You were asking about the Reaper’s Set, but I knew you were camouflaging your true interest. You were trying to sound me out. How did I tip my hand?”

Jamie gave him a wry smile and a shake of the head. “No,