Harley Merlin 12 by Bella Forrest (story books to read TXT) 📗

to have kept you isolated for some reason. I have no doubt he’s had some of them watch you and pass on his messages, but they haven’t made contact.” She’d gone into sleuth mode. A modern-day Sherlock in a fluffy jacket.

“But this book might shed some light on it?”

“If my guess is right, and I’m pretty good at that sort of thing, the djinn should know the history of Erebus’s former servants. It’ll be in their collective memory. The book won’t have an exhaustive list, as it’s so old, but it might give you a way to research some of his past servants so you can see if any managed to find a loophole in the servitude bargain.” She pulled her jacket tighter, like she’d felt a sudden chill. “It’s a starting point, anyway.”

Curiosity was the order of the day. I wanted to know everything about these past servants and their supposed collaboration with the djinn. This book might have some useful information on my particular category of slave, and maybe even a way to escape said slavedom.

After I read the book, I knew my next port of call. Kadar, Raffe’s djinn, was a small fry. He hadn’t racked up enough years to be connected to the mainframe and collective memory, but Zalaam was plenty old.

Let’s hope Levi’s man-flu hasn’t affected his djinn.

Later that evening, I coerced myself into wearing a button-up shirt and dragging a comb through my hair. After all, I didn’t want Harley to flay me. It was the only button-up shirt I owned—the one Saskia had bought for me at Bandersnatch’s Boutique of Haute-Nonsense. I’d thought about going whole-hog and putting on the entire overpriced getup, if only to peeve Wade by being the best-dressed guy in the room. In the end, I settled for an old pair of black trousers and the silky shirt. And, not to toot my own trumpet, but I didn’t look too shabby.

I set out solo to the Waterfront, not wanting a gaggle of Muppet Babies in tow when I had a bookshop to scour. Melody would be at her coffee date with Remington by now, with Luke third-wheeling. I’d bumped into Krieger on my way back from the Aquarium, where Melody had gone gaga over selkies and sea sprites and Kraken. He’d commented on how crappy I looked, though in a more polite way, but I’d shrugged it off and switched the topic to Remington. Apparently, the poor guy hadn’t been in any state to collect samples, and neither had Leviathan, so they’d agreed to work on Fish-face tomorrow instead. Leviathan had been pretty agitated after seeing Harley; the power inside her had an impact on most monsters she ran across.

He’d make a great pet, sis. Stick him on a leash and walk him around, but make sure you’ve got heavy-duty poop-bags.

For a brief moment, I’d thought about asking Krieger for an evaluation, to see if my pills needed switching up. But then I’d remembered the hassle of it all when I’d first gotten my prescription. Too many questions, too many trials, too many experiments with this pill and that pill, some of which left me like the walking dead, others which knocked me out completely, and others which made me feel like… someone else entirely. So, I’d decided against it and headed off. I was coping with what I had, for now.

I entered the interdimensional shopping mall and found Buy Its Cover pretty quickly. There were a bunch of bookshops, but none had a name that tickled my funny bone quite the same way. Whoever ran this place was a pun master after my own heart.

A bell tinkled above the door as I stepped into the store, and that musty old-book smell bombarded my nostrils. A few tables had “New Arrivals” written on stands, but the shelves belonged to the ancient and the yellowed. The kind of books where you could sense how many thumbs had gone before yours, flicking the aged pages.

“Can I be of assistance, young man?” A smiling old woman appeared behind the counter and shuffled over to me. She evidently didn’t recognize me, though I was something of a big deal in these parts. If I did say so myself.

“I’m looking for a book called The Dark Souls of the Magical World, by Jabir ibn Hayyan.” I hoped I’d said that right. “Red cover, ruby on the spine. I’d look through all these shelves myself, but I’m in something of a hurry.” I gestured to the myriad tomes. It wasn’t like the book I needed would come whizzing out of its own accord.

The old lady’s eyes widened. “Goodness, now that is a book.” She shuffled off and ran her fingertip along the books before stopping in front of one, exactly as Melody had described. Holding it reverently, she brought it to me.

“Is this it?” I asked. It looked the part.

“Oh yes, it certainly is.” She smiled eagerly. “Will you be making a purchase?”

“How much are we talking?” I had my credit card with me, but it wouldn’t take much to max the thing out.

“Ten thousand dollars.” She practically squealed the words. Now her excitement made sense. Buying this book probably would’ve paid the rent on this place for a year. And left me in debt for the rest of my life.

I tried not to choke. “A bargain, but I’ll have to check with my buyer first.”

“Would you like me to put it on hold for you, dear?”

“No, that isn’t necessary. I just need to make a phone call.” I scampered outside, leaving the bell ringing.

Crap! What was I supposed to do now? Melody hadn’t mentioned such a massive price tag, and I sure as hell couldn’t afford it. Oh, you know what you have to do, the gremlins whispered in my head. They weren’t usually the best with ideas, but I had to agree with them this time.

The only way to get that book was to steal it. Buying it wasn’t a possibility.