by Nazri Noor
I grunted and left it at that. There was no point arguing. We’d seen enough evidence of it over the time we’d spent together. Hell, one name alone was proof of mankind’s innate potential for chaos: Thea Morgana.
“Okay,” I said. “My main point is that I won’t give the Tome to Mammon. Plain and simple.”
“And what if Mammon takes your soul anyway?”
“Listen. Igarashi. We’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”
“You mean cross,” he said.
“Sure. Sure I did.”
I lifted my chair as I backed it away from our table, taking care not to scrape its legs against the floor. There were at least two Esthers within shushing distance, and I’d had enough of being accosted by old ladies for one day.
Herald raised an eyebrow at me. “And where are you going?”
“Just gonna stretch my legs,” I said, thrusting out my arms and rolling my neck. I squeezed his shoulders and he immediately flopped to jelly under my touch. Hah. Guy worked too hard. “You’re all tense there, buddy. I’d get to a spa real fast.”
Herald shrugged me off. “Shut up,” he muttered, rotating his shoulder, wincing when his joints popped. “Don’t wander off too far.”
I chuckled. “Try not to miss me.” He turned back to his books, grumbling.
I followed my feet as they brought me to the stairs up to the third floor. Sure, we’d checked the occult section already. In fact, it was the first place we looked. But maybe we’d missed something among the works of Cornelius Agrippa, Aleister Crowley, and John Dee’s writings on the Voynich manuscript and – you still with me so far? Okay. Anyway. Something in my gut told me that the Tome would want to be in familiar territory even if it was on the lam, and it might appreciate hiding someplace that had arcane-adjacent literature.
Not that you could find a real, actual grimoire in a public library, of course. The Lorica had ensured that a long time ago, and there was actually a small team of archivists specifically assigned to combing libraries in case their staffers unwittingly invited supernatural books into their collections. It sounded like the kind of thing a lesser demon would find amusing, sneaking a dangerous book of fire into a grade school library. And sure, it’d be funny for all of five minutes, or however long it took for a kid to burn down his entire school.
I sighed as I arched my back for another stretch. I’d lost count of how many hours Herald and I had been at the library. It was probably the longest amount of time I’d ever spent with books, more so than that brief period I attended college – which, naturally, explains why college was such a brief period for me to begin with.
I cracked my knuckles as I approached the occult section, ready to do another dive, and was only slightly dismayed when a cursory glance confirmed that we’d already checked everything worth investigating. Nothing had changed since the last time we’d looked. Well, nothing except for the blond guy sitting cross-legged among the shelves, his arms as inked as the books scattered around him.
“Oh, sorry, excuse me,” I mumbled, negotiating the little stacks of books he had on the floor. Now I’m no expert, but I’d spent enough of my day at Valero Public to know that this sort of behavior would easily draw the ire of a librarian, if not one of the Esthers. “You, uh, you doing okay over there?”
The man pushed a handful of messy curls out of his eyes as he continued running a finger over the pages. “Uh-huh,” he muttered distractedly. “All good.”
His finger was swiping rapidly across every line, in a way that I’d only seen with people who were speed reading. Scratch that, I’d never seen a speed reader go quite this fast before. He turned the page with a nimble flick of the wrist, still oblivious to the fact that I was studying him. I planted a hand against a bookshelf and leaned against it, fascinated.
“You’re a really fast reader,” I said. Hey, it’s not like we were making progress in the hunt for the Tome, and I was technically on a break. I figured a little conversation with a human text scanner couldn’t hurt.
His hand stopped moving, his finger keeping place on his last word, and he looked up at me with a grin. “Been doing it for years. Helps that I’m a quick study.”
His eyes were blue, I noticed, an alarmingly similar color to the ink of the odd patterns and shapes that were tattooed from the backs of his hands up to his shoulders. Actually, he was wearing a tank top – the tattoos went all the way up past his clavicles, the patterns spilling down his chest and disappearing under the neckline of his shirt.
I looked back into his eyes, hoping that I hadn’t been caught staring. “Yeah, I’m not a huge reader myself. I mean I like books well enough, but I’m more of a hands-on kind of guy.”
He grinned again, the brightness of his smile seeming to fill the aisle. “There’s a lot to learn from books. Here, especially. I’m glad they’re so well-stocked.” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I have a really, um, voracious habit. I’d be out on the street if it weren’t for libraries.”
“Yeah. I noticed.” I gestured at the books stacked around him, like little towers, and he was the tattooed Gulliver sitting among them. I reached out a hand. “I’m Dustin, by the way.”
“Sam. Nice to meet you.” He shook my hand, smiling. “So what brings you to this corner of the library? You did say you weren’t much of a reader.” He set his book down. “No offense, but the books here don’t exactly constitute light reading.”
“Oh. Nah, it’s nothing. I’m doing some research for work, and I was looking for a particular book, but can’t seem to find it. Might be someone checked it out.”
Sam cocked his head. “And which book is that? Maybe I can help.” He grinned. “You could say I’m a bit of a hobbyist.”
Hmm. Was I really going to ask the library hipster about the Tome of Annihilation? Tattoos aside, the guy looked totally normal. He’d probably just laugh it off. I mean, the name of the book alone, right?
“Seriously, it’s a rough find. And I’m pretty sure it’s been put in a weird category, too. Someone probably dumped it in the wrong section or something.”
“And you’ve already checked with the librarians? They can track these things.”
“No dice. Told you. It’s kind of a, um, a special case.”
“Sounds like a challenge.” Sam crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Come on. Name the book and I’ll find it. Humor me.”
What could it hurt? The guy was just a harmless book nerd. I shrugged. “Oh, what the hell. Been looking all day anyway. And the kicker? I have no idea what it looks like. It’s called the Tome of Annihilation.”
I could tell Sam was doing his best not to react. His smile was frozen, his muscles tense, but the littlest twitch in the corner of his eye gave him away.
“Never heard of it,” he said, his smile somehow even brighter than before.
“Go figure,” I said, shrugging again. “But hey, no harm asking, right?”
“Right,” he said, picking his book back up again. “Well, best of luck finding your book, eh? I’ll see you around.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. And thanks.”
I wasn’t expecting to be dismissed so summarily. Huh. Something fishy was going on. I ambled further down the aisle, risking another glance at Sam when I was a few feet away. From where I stood, he had his back turned to me – and yeah, running down his triceps, and down the top of his shoulders and back were the same unusual blue tattoos as the ones he had on his chest and arms.
Hmm. There was something about them. They weren’t just random designs or patterns. They looked like symbols, almost, or glyphs. Like runes. Or letters.
Well, shit. It was extremely unlikely, but it had happened before, hadn’t it? A client had once sent me out to fetch an artifact, but instead of it being a magical object, it turned out to be something completely different. Surely that couldn’t be the case again.
I walked even further down the aisle, taking care to be out of earshot, then dialed Herald on my phone. Yes, I kne
w perfectly well that I was committing library crime, but come on – I had a lead. I was totally prepared to do time in library jail.
“The hell are you doing?” Herald hissed into my ear. “I forgot to put my phone on silent and – ”
“Igarashi, shut up for a second.”
Once upon a time, the Boneyard was told to find the Genesis Codex, a powerful artifact that could manipulate life and death. And once upon a time, we discovered that the Genesis Codex was actually a human boy, the necromancer-turned-roommate named Asher Mayhew. I had to know.
“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.”
“I will search your room the way a mother searches under the mattress for her son’s naughty magazines. And when I find this grimoire, Dustin, so help me – ”
Sterling groaned. “You’re just giving him reason not to keep it in the Boneyard. Nice going, Carver.”
“Great ideas, guys,” I said, dancing nimbly away from the conversation. I donned an invisible hat, then tipped it at each of them. “I bid you gentlemen adieu.”
Carver rubbed his face, as if a throbbing headache had just spread across his entire skull, and he sighed. “Sterling. Go with him and make sure he doesn’t kill himself, or everyone around him.”
Again, I’m sure I’ll never get used to how quickly Sterling moves – certainly faster than any of the multiple vampires I’ve already met – but in a flash he’d already beat me to the portal leading out of the Boneyard. I grumbled at him indistinctly, but okay, fine. Carver had a point. I didn’t exactly know how to find the Black Market, anyway, and it might be nice to have a shopping partner along for the ride.
Plus Sterling was always so oddly accommodating about paying for cabs and rideshares, which he did so again, hiring us a car for Central Square, Valero’s business district. Actually, our destination was close to Central Square, but not quite there: Silk Road, a whole street dedicated to high-end commercial establishments. I guess it made perfect sense for the Black Market to hide in plain sight, right where wealthy tourists and Valero’s elite bought their luxury handbags and wristwatches and solid gold toilets.
“Indulge me,” Sterling said as we waved our driver off. “What’s so important that we have to go to the Black Market? And why do we need one of those bureaucracy imps specifically?”
I looked down the glitzy avenue of Silk Road, at its glittering marquees and blinking lanterns, all beckoning me to run into little boutique shops and clean alleyways so I could dodge Sterling’s question.
“Um,” I said, adjusting my backpack, which I’d brought in case I did end up doing any serious shopping. “I needed a favor to bring Vanitas back, and considering how popular I’ve been with gods recently, a friend told me that maybe I was better off checking with a different kind of entity.”
“And?” Sterling held so perfectly still I swear he could have passed for a marble statue.
“And – we decided to go with a demon.”
Sterling blinked. “Which one?”
“Oh, like you know anything about demons.”
Sterling stuck his hands in his pockets, raised his chin, and sucked on his teeth. “Try me, loser.”
&nbs
p; I pursed my lips uncertainly. “Mammon.”
Sterling’s laughter could have woken the dead. “The prince of greed? Are you serious right now? You’re so over. You’re done.” He threw his arm over my shoulder, and I scowled. “Might as well cherish your last moments with us, because you’re as good as dead.”
“Not a chance.” I shrugged him off, sniffing. “And I told you to change your body spray. That stuff smells horrible.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re dumping me for a demon.” Sterling’s fangs glinted in the streetlight as he grinned. “I guess your tastes have changed. What do you prefer now, the smell of brimstone? Sulfur?”
I scratched my nose, leaning against a railing. “It’s not funny, dude.”
“It totally is. And what does Mammon want from you, exactly?”
So I told him, and Sterling laughed so obnoxiously loud that shoppers started actively making an effort to walk around the two of us, if not pointing and muttering.
“And what, you’re just going to hand it over?”
“Hell no. Over my dead body. I don’t know how, but there’s got to be some way for me to squirrel out of this deal. That’s why I need to find the Tome. We can keep it at the Boneyard, far from anyone who might think to use it for evil.”
“Aww. Dusty. My hero.” Sterling cocked his head. “But what’s a hero without his own soul?”
“You’re a pain in my ass, Sterling.” I shoved him in the chest, and he only chortled some more. “Shut the fuck up and let’s get going.”
Sterling took the lead, walking us through the throng of shoppers and navigating the very convenient layout of Silk Road. I swerved around some construction cones and bright yellow tape that had been set down around an open manhole, expecting Sterling to do the same, but he only stood still.