Grimoires and Where to Find Them by Raconteur, Honor (best affordable ebook reader .TXT) 📗

hunting for the full set. That information doesn’t seem to be in his desk. I’ve gone through all of this.”

“It’s interesting because every broker I’ve spoken to has said selling the full set would be impossible. It would be too expensive.” Foster rubbed at his furry chin in thought. “So, who could possibly buy it?”

“It’s a really good question. Even the royal library could only afford a single volume, which says something. Do you guys have oil barons?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Or Saudi princes, maybe?” I muttered to myself. “You know, people who are stupidly rich and have so much wealth they can never spend it all.”

“Ah. A few. Not many in this country, I would think, but I suppose one of them could afford to buy it.”

I had a follow-up question, but I was interrupted by my pad ringing. Worried it was Henri, I immediately yanked it out of a pocket to answer. Oh, it was Sherard. Phew, okay, not an emergency.

“Hey, Sherard, I’m in the middle of something.”

“I hope you can drop it, then, because you’ll want to get over here.”

He did not sound happy. I wasn’t going to like the sound of this. I could see it now. “What’s on fire?”

“The palace grimoire from the Reaper’s Set is missing.”

I stared at the pad, a woman waiting on the punch line. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear out of my left eye like I used to. Say that again?”

“You heard me. I’ve even done seeking spells. The grimoire is not on the palace grounds. The staff is not sure when it disappeared, either.”

“You’re telling me someone stole a priceless grimoire and got it off the palace grounds without tripping the wards?”

“I feel like getting drunk before answering that question.”

What I would give for vodka at this moment. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, resisted the urge to bash my head against the desk—it would only break the desk—and let the breath out again.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting at the East Gate to let you in. Gibson’s with me.”

“Okay, cool.” I hung up and groaned loud and long, my soul leaving my body. Today was a really good day to be a missing person. Shame I hadn’t realized that when crawling out of bed this morning.

Foster was agitated, shifting from one foot to the other. “Does that mean the palace wards are on the fritz again?”

“God, I hope not. Henri’s going to have kittens when he hears this. Foster, change of plans. You and Gerring need to babysit the site here. Call in help from the station to get things boxed up and ready to move. Niamh is still trying to track down Walcott, and I don’t want this place left empty until she’s back, okay?”

“We won’t leave without her,” he swore. “I’ll tell Gerring what’s going on. We can manage this, Detective. Go, and keep us updated.”

“You bet.” I looked at Phil, who had been sitting on the desk like a cat at leisure. “Stay or go?”

“Go,” he answered decisively even as he leapt lightly up onto my shoulder.

I wasn’t surprised by this and hoped he’d be handy. I gathered up my bag and was out the door, hailing the first taxi I saw once I hit the street. I gave the driver directions, then sat back, pulling out my pad.

Oh man, Henri was really going to be upset about this. I might need to cook him curry tonight and offer a good foot rub so he doesn’t combust from frustration. The palace wards had driven him insane trying to keep Eddy Jameson out. Hearing they’ve been somehow compromised again would not go over well.

And this on top of dangerous grimoires. This might just qualify as a terrible, awful, no good, very bad day.

I called his pad, letting it ring with an anticipatory wince on my face.

“Jamie,” he greeted with a sigh, and he sounded done in already. “I was just about to call. The containment lockers over here are full, but Jere’s already on his way. He’s bringing a temporary box to house the grimoire. I’m just waiting on him.”

Annnd of course he’s stuck over there for the foreseeable future. “Yikes, well at least Jere can help. Are you going to be at the station for a while, then?”

He could probably hear in my voice that something was up. His response was cautious, a man bracing himself for impact. “Yes? An hour at least. Why?”

“Fun story.”

“Oh, gods. I hate it when you start with those two words.”

“Probably because it’s never a fun story. Sherard just called. The palace’s grimoire from the Reaper’s Set is missing.”

He didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure if he was even breathing.

“Henri. Hellloooo~ Henri? You still with me?” Ladies, gents, and gentlefolk, I think I just broke him.

He started swearing in language so vile it would make a sailor blush.

Oh, wow. He really was mad. I winced and let him get it all out.

Only when he stopped, panting hard, did I venture, “Feel a little better?”

“Not at all. Pardon my language. Is Seaton absolutely certain the grimoire was stolen and not misplaced?”

“He said he did seeking spells, and it’s nowhere on the palace grounds.”

“That answers that. Alright. As soon as Jere arrives, I’ll situate him here and meet you at the palace. I assume you’re on the way there?”

“I am. I left Foster and Gerring in charge at the broker’s office with orders to pack up the files and move them to the PD. Sherard and Gibson are waiting for me at the palace gate.”

“Keep me updated. I’ll join you as soon as I am able. But you realize what this means, don’t you? We’ve been assuming the thief is a common sort, not one with magic. Not with the way he’s been doing the thefts. But if he’s managed to circumvent the palace wards….”

“Yeah. He might be craftier than we’ve been giving him credit for.”

Even as I said that, though, I had a thought. Eddy Jameson hadn’t been gifted with magic, just