Grimoires and Where to Find Them, Raconteur, Honor [i have read the book txt] 📗

“Well, that is remarkable.” Ophelia tipped her head to look inside. “Oh, and it has the box, too. I’m happy for you, Henri, I know you’ve wanted that book for a long time. I do feel bad we sold it. We didn’t think you’d want it.”

“I was a child when you sold it. It’s not like you knew I would become a magician later in life.” I tried to be forgiving about it, and it was easier now that I had gained another copy. “But if you could safeguard this one, I’ll collect it when we come to dinner tonight.”

“Absolutely, we can.” Ophelia looked down at the creature sprawled in her arms. “Clint, do you want to go with them or us?”

Clint looked honestly torn, but in the end his curiosity and desire to work won out. He readied himself to spring back into Jamie’s arms.

“Work time.”

“Ah. Then I’ll see you later tonight, as well.” My mother good-naturedly handed him back over.

We parted, and I waited until my parents were well out of earshot before I bent a look on Clint. “And since when, might I ask, has my mother become Grandma?”

Clint blinked at me, the picture of innocence itself. “She’s not?”

That did not at all answer my question.

Jamie snorted in amusement. “I feel like a conspiracy has been brewing behind our backs. Phil, did Ophelia tell you to call her Grandma, too?”

Phil was more trustworthy and forthright about the matter. He gave a nod, tail flicking a bit. “Did. When you and Henri start dating, she said so.”

Of course she had.

Jamie, fortunately, found this situation amusing instead of embarrassing, unlike myself. “I see. Henri, you’re tomato red. Need an icepack for that blush?”

I groaned and found myself unable to meet her eyes. I did not appreciate the position this discussion had put me in. “I do apologize for my mother.”

“Naw, don’t. I’m actually flattered. She really likes me, and I take this as a sign that I’ll be very welcome if I ever do join the family.” She nudged me playfully on the shoulder. “So, ease up.”

It was an excellent perspective. I was glad she saw it that way. I think she knew, too, that I had never seriously courted a woman before her. My parents were relieved to see I had found someone I enjoyed, someone I potentially wanted to share my life with. They’d feared I’d slide into permanent bachelorhood.

I shook the embarrassment off like a dog shedding water. “Alright. Well, let’s get back to work. We have possible thefts to uncover.”

“I’m torn about this,” Jamie stated even as she fell into step with me. “Do I want more thefts or not?”

“More thefts mean more possible data.” I shifted Phil to rest more comfortably on my shoulder. His light weight was barely discernible there, and he liked the view from his high perch. “But it also means more crimes to investigate.”

“Mixed bag.” Jamie made a face. “Not that we get a choice, either way. Well, onwards and upwards, I guess.”

We made the rounds, but no one reported any other thefts. Eventually, we all met back at the lemonade stand for much needed refreshment. Jamie treated us all. The Felixes were sprawled over various laps, absolutely done in after the hours of walking, talking, and general investigation. Or, at least, that was their story.

Jamie flipped open her notebook, ready to jot down anything of interest, and looked at her three students arrayed in front of her. “What did you learn?”

Gerring answered her readily. “Very few booksellers here carry grimoires. We encountered three others, and they all had run-of-the-mill grimoires, in their own words. Most of them were academy textbooks, in fact.”

I wasn’t surprised. This faire didn’t specialize in rare books, after all. Truly powerful grimoires rarely hit the open market. They tended to be hoarded or sold at auction, not at a book faire.

“Of the book vendors we spoke to,” Niamh picked up smoothly, “only two others reported a theft. Both stolen books were rare but not insanely expensive. We wrote those down, as well as their worth, and the victims’ contact information. They weren’t sure how or when the thefts occurred, both men saying they turned their back for a moment and the book was gone.”

Jamie nodded, her hand flying as she wrote all of this down. In her own language, of course. Velars was still not as quick or easy as her native English.

“It’s a common tactic, apparently. Books are easy to disguise under a jacket. Alright, those two thefts might be unrelated, but we’ll investigate them, as well. Nothing else?”

Foster shook his head. “No. That was all we found. The two booksellers were right glad someone was showing an interest and were quick to give us all the info.”

“I bet.” She tapped the end of her pencil against the table in a quick staccato. “Alright. So that leaves the question, is this our same thief? Was he capitalizing on opportune moments? Are the thefts unconnected and we’re looking at someone who’s targeting that series of books in particular? Ahh, so many questions without answers.”

I could tell that only Gerring had an inkling of what to do next. I decided to throw them a proverbial bone.

“I believe it will be easier to prove a negative, in this case. Why don’t you research the Reaper’s Set first? Try and determine who all has volumes of it and if they are still in possession of them. Perhaps contact brokers who might have clients interested in it. If nothing is untoward there, then this becomes more a crime of opportunity than of design.”

Foster, at least, looked relieved to be given a direction. “I think that’s far easier, sir.”

“Let’s divide and conquer a bit,” Jamie suggested. “Henri’s got friends all over, we’ll put out feelers and see if anyone’s got part of this series in a private collection. Gerring, check police reports. I know the cops near here aren’t taking book thefts seriously, but maybe someone wrote something