“Herald, listen,” I said, over his hastily mumbled protestations. “Is it possible for the Tome of Annihilation to take human form?”
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around to find one of the Esthers tutting and wagging her finger at me. I covered the mouthpiece of my phone.
“Ma’am, it’s very important that I – ”
“No, young man. You have some respect for the library. You shut that thing off right now.”
In my ear, Herald was saying something about how the Tome was only inscribed with spells of mass destruction, but yeah, sure, why not, it might potentially hold one or two glamours that could help it assume a human disguise. I ended the call without responding because Esther had started poking me in the ribs. Somehow pacifying her by pleadingly whispering that I would, scout’s honor, never use a phone in a library again, I begged off, then headed back down the occult aisle.
But Sam was already gone.
Chapter 6
“Well, it’s certainly possible,” Carver said, drumming his fingers against his desk. Which didn’t sound as satisfying as you might imagine, since his desk, like everything else in the Boneyard, was made of stone.
Well, except for some of the furniture, like the plush, upholstered chairs he reserved for guests. Those were comfy. I shifted in mine, doing all I could to keep my line of questioning effective, yet unsuspicious.
“So you’re saying that a grimoire, given enough autonomy, could potentially cast its own illusions or glamours? Enough to pass for a human being.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Mr. Graves.” Carver steepled his fingers, resting his chin on their tips. “Why do you ask?”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs, and wearing my handsomest, most casual smile. “Oh, no reason. Just wondering. You can never be too careful, you know?” I rested my hands behind my head, stretching, just to complete the effect. “But, you know, just in case someone was looking for a particular grimoire? How would one go about that, exactly? Be as specific and detailed as possible.”
Carver narrowed his eyes. “You’re being unusually chatty, and extremely obvious about baiting me for information. Which means that either you’re up to something, or you’re being exceedingly charming and sycophantic for reasons I have yet to beat out of you.”
“I’m not up to anything.” I sat up, intentionally widened my eyes, and held up one hand. “I swear on Sterling’s mother’s grave.”
A low snarl came from out of the perennial darkness surrounding Carver’s desk. “I heard that, you little piece of human garbage.”
“Sterling,” Carver said, his eyes boring into my skull. “Come. Sit with us.”
Sterling slithered over, like a panther made out of leather, then slunk into the chair next to me.
“To continue. In order to find a grimoire, Mr. Graves, you might use a variety of divining methods. The Lorica’s Eyes have those talents innately. I myself, as you know, use scrying spells and enchantments as well. But for a book of spells? Well – ”
See, that’s what I loved about Carver. He knew, on some level, that I was looking for trouble, and even though he had no idea what was going on, the wannabe professor emeritus that lived inside of him wanted to take every opportunity to educate and impart information. And I was his happy, hungry, eager student, especially when the phrase “word-eater” came out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you say a word-eater?”
“That’s right. It’s a kind of lesser demon. An imp, specifically, that is drawn to books, and words, and arcane knowledge. You’ll find them working for hell’s libraries and scribes, or, if you’re lucky, in the employ of a powerful wizard.”
I sat forward with my hands in my lap, watching Carver expectantly. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell Sterling was studying me with growing suspicion.
Carver sighed and rolled his eyes. “And you’ll find one such imp at the Black Market.”
“Sorry. The Black Market?”
Sterling cleared his throat. “It’s an underground bazaar, run for and by magical people and supernatural creatures.”
I looked at each of them in turn, bewildered. “How come I’ve never heard of this place?”
Sterling scoffed. “Because you’re in bed with the Lorica. Duh. You know they like to run a tight ship, do things by the books – which is why the Black Market changes locations every once in a while. Can’t keep the Lorica out forever, but at least they can keep running.”
I leaned even closer to Carver’s table, now literally on the edge of my seat. “And I’ll find a word-eater at this Black Market?”
Carver frowned. “You understand that I am only telling you this because it makes it easier for me to catch you in the act once you actually find what you’re looking for.”
I blinked innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”