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

It’s something with magical properties, at any rate. It’s causing complete havoc inside that grimoire. I’m going to very carefully lever this thing out of the stack. When I do, I need you to get that paper and seal it. It’s just as dangerous as one of the books right now.”

“Yes, I can see that. A moment.” I ducked back to where I’d been working, grabbed a bag, and then hurried back to his side. I snapped the bag open, a gloved hand free and at the ready. “This is best done quickly. On the count of three. One, two, three!”

He jerked open the grimoire, I snatched the paper out of it, and the single glance I caught as I stuffed it into the bag was enough to confirm that it was a charm.

A cleaning charm. One designed to mend rips and remove stains.

Because of course that’s the proper thing to put into a decades-old grimoire with ink stains.

I sealed the bag promptly. Jere put the grimoire back into its protective box, closed and latched the lid with the buckles firmly in place, and only then did we both dare to take a breath.

“Was that…” he asked, words tinged with horror.

“Mending charm,” I confirmed, sharing the horror. “How much damage did it do to the book, do you think?”

“I’m terrified to find out.” His eyes were wide as he looked at me. “I know we didn’t want to pull Massimo in here. But…we need to. We’ve got to pull every grimoire with a bookmark in it now. Those charms might destroy us and the books before we can clear the room!”

I agreed, which was why I didn’t argue with him. I darted out of the room, taking both the Reaper’s grimoire and the charm with me, as the sooner I could do that, the better. I put both into different compartments in the back of Jere’s vehicle for extra protection. The night air felt cool against my sweaty skin, but I had no time to relish it. I turned, frantically looking for Massimo. He’d led us here, and we had someone on the way to take him to jail. Both Gerring and Foster were sitting on him to make sure he didn’t try and run for it before he could be properly processed.

I found him, sitting in the back of the car, with Foster and Gerring standing guard over him. Without thinking, I went straight for the door, yanking it open and displacing Foster in the process. “Massimo. How many charms did you use as bookmarks?”

He looked up at me in bewilderment. “Uh…I can’t say offhand.”

Taking him by the arm, I pulled him sharply out of the vehicle. “You best remember. And do so quickly. Your stupidity is about to get us all killed. I can’t believe you put a mending charm inside a Reaper’s grimoire! Good gods, man, don’t you understand what that could do?!”

Massimo stumbled as I yanked him towards the house, protesting as he went, “But it’s just a design on a paper until you activate it, right? And it was so pretty—the design, I mean.”

Heavens preserve me. “It’ll automatically activate if it comes into direct contact with active magic—which a grimoire is made of! Now, how many charms did you use? Which books? Where’s the Reaper’s Set? We’ve only found one volume so far.”

He went, timidly pointing to the back study. “They’re all in there. I…really, charms will do that?”

The blank non-comprehension on his face was infuriating. Why would anyone collect grimoires when they didn’t understand even the basic tenements of magic? His entire thought process defied logic at every turn. He collected something he didn’t understand, didn’t read, all to make himself look more intelligent. And to who? He couldn’t even openly display the books because they were all stolen goods!

The man needed a doctor. There was something very wrong with his mind.

Jere saw our approach and pointed an outraged finger at Massimo. “If you’ve undone all my hard work, I’m going to lynch you before the police ever get a chance to prosecute you! Where are the other Reaper’s grimoires?”

Massimo looked both hurt and defensive, shoulders hunched in, but there was a mulish set to his mouth that suggested he was ready to offer a defense. He didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d done, apparently. Which was laughable, because he’d been so enraged with Walcott for destroying books, but in the end he’d done just as much damage as the book broker had. Hypocritical in the extreme.

If he offered one word in defense of his actions, I’d shove my wand down his throat.

Something about my expression must have said that as he didn’t try to excuse himself. He meekly went into the room and started pointing to books. He almost pulled a few from the shelves.

With his bare hands.

I had to physically stop him from doing it, but he only reached for another.

The reaction was intense and visceral. He clutched the book in a death grip, eyes going wide and weirdly green, as if he were hypnotized by something. His head turned, nose wrinkling up in his face.

“What is that? That foul creature up there. That’s what’s causing this, isn’t it?!”

What was he hallucinating?

“Give me the grimoire.”

“No, no this will protect me.” He stepped away, eyes fixated on some point on the ceiling. “This will protect me from that. I think it has a spell in it—”

Jere, without compunction, grabbed the nearest book to him and hit Massimo squarely on the back of the head.

It startled the thief enough that he staggered, his grip loosening. I snatched the grimoire from him immediately, then pulled away before he could snatch it back.

Massimo reached for it automatically, then blinked. “Where did it go?”

“You were hallucinating,” I growled, beyond fed up with this idiocy.

“No, I wasn’t. There was something—” He broke off, still staring around him in confusion. “I guess maybe it was my imagination.”

Is that what he’d done this entire time? Blamed it on a