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

ponytail and washed his face and hands. His sharp blue eyes were already weighing and evaluating everything, the tips of his ears twitching as he took in the many, many sounds of the faire. I realized our resident dark elf might get overwhelmed here. His senses were heightened, like mine, and I found the faire overwhelming at times.

I greeted Henri with, “Are his ears ringing?”

“Quite so.” Henri looked self-righteous and satisfied, a man who had completed his mission.

Looking over at the other three, I asked, “You all introduced yourselves to each other, I hope? Good, good. This is Charles Ferrington, the dealer whose book was stolen. What we know at this point isn’t much. The grimoire wasn’t on display for sale, not really. He was bringing it out for customers to look at but kept it safely under the table for the most part. He brought it out for perusal, set it down, turned around, and turned back five seconds later to find the book gone and the box still here. It was taken out of this box”—I indicated the rather elaborately painted box sitting on the edge of the table—“before being sneaked off. Mr. Ferrington didn’t get a look at who did it.”

Used to my training methods, Gerring jumped in. “Mr. Ferrington, what else can you tell us about the grimoire?”

“It was part of a set, known rather informally as the Reaper’s Set.”

That didn’t sound ominous or anything.

Foster, I was pleased to note, already had a notebook out and was writing notes down quickly. “Can I ask why, sir?”

Ferrington paused a customer on the right side before explaining quickly, “The entire set was written by a rather brilliant magician in the late Revolutionary period. It was hidden in a wall and later found during demolition. The set features an exact method of poisoning, interrogation techniques, anatomy, and the various spells one would use to extract information from another’s mind against their will. It’s a rather gruesome series, and extremely rare. Part of my concern for this volume’s disappearance is that it conveys exact illustrations for pinpoint-targeting spells that could do severe damage in a warzone.”

Ouch. Well, wasn’t this a barrel full of monkeys.

“So, you’re saying that in the wrong hands, this could do serious damage.” Niamh now copied the other two and jotted down notes quickly.

She had no notebook, just a folded sheet of paper that looked like a grocery list. I’d have to get her something more suitable later. Her pretty green eyes swept the tables around us, and a doubtful frown crossed over her heart-shaped face.

“But do we know the thief wanted it for some nefarious purpose?”

I spread my hands. “That’s the question. We are, after all, in a throng of collectors. Avid collectors, no less. With a rare book like this, it could well be the thief stole it for the purpose of either adding it to his collection or selling it. I’m actually surprised to find something like this at a faire.”

“I recently came across it at an estate sale,” Ferrington explained, his mouth drawn severely down at the corners. “I thought I would make noise about the fact I had it today, get some word of mouth going. I severely doubted anyone would have enough cash on hand to buy it, but displaying it would be good advertisement. It’s why I was so careful to keep it under the table and near me unless someone was looking at it. I’m so upset with myself. I literally turned my back on it for five seconds, and this happens.”

“I would think with this grimoire in particular he’d surely have taken the box,” Henri objected.

Ferrington shook his head. “It’s actually quite common for them to leave the box behind. The thieves have discovered that a book tucked into a waistband is easy to disguise. With a coat on, I can’t tell if he’s got a book tucked away or not. But the box makes it uncomfortably sharp and bulky, much easier to spot. And harder to shove in the back of your trousers.”

Ah, a good point. And good information, too.

Phil was the one who pointed out the obvious. “But it’s dangerous.”

Henri gave him a stroke on the head.

“Good, you remember that. Yes, it’s very dangerous. The Reaper’s Grimoire is the type to be very volatile outside its protective box. Most grimoires have a sealing hex inscribed inside the signature page, but that isn’t sufficient for the truly powerful grimoires. I have no idea if the thief wants it for his own purposes or if he plans to sell it, but either way it’s dangerous for it to be running around without its box. Mr. Ferrington, I want to take the box not only for evidence but with the hope that I can quickly reunite it with its grimoire.”

Ferrington nodded fervently. “Please. Frankly, the idea of the grimoire out of its box for any length of time gives me chills. I have no idea what kind of damage it will wreak.”

I didn’t either, but Henri’s expression inclined me to think it would be really bad. While Henri was the type to worry, he wasn’t the type to worry without a reason, so that told me volumes, right there.

“Right now, motive is very murky. We’ll have to leave it as a question mark. Alright, my ducklings, you are here at a crime scene with a missing grimoire. What do you do next?”

“Dust for fingerprints?” Gerring offered.

“Very good. I have no kit on me, so we’ll need to carefully bag the box for now and take it back to the station. But after that, what?”

They all looked at each other, expressions blank, then looked to me for an answer.

“But there aren’t any other clues to follow right now,” Niamh said slowly, her eyes intent on my face. “Are there?”

“There are not. Which is why we’ll have to generate some.” I gave them a winsome smile. “Don’t worry, it’s just as much fun as it sounds.”

Gerring groaned. “That smile always means