Page 10 of Grimoires & Glamoury

Montgomery shook his head in denial. “I inherited it. From my grandfather. He was gifted it by his. It had been in my family’s care for over a hundred and fifty years. This tome is special...unusual you might say.” He paused and dropped his voice even lower. “Written in an ancient language, that I doubt even the most talented of mortal scholars would be able to interpret.”

“Mortal scholars?” I leaned forward. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“The book is believed to be a guide to the oldest spells and rituals of the Fae.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re telling me that you had an actual Fae grimoire in your collection?”

“I did.”

“Are you insane?” I sputtered in a furious whisper. “Do you have any idea how incredibly dangerous the Fae can be?”

“Yes.” Charles folded his hands across the table and sat back against the booth. “Do you?”

“I do, unfortunately.” Shaken, I reached for my ice water and took a hasty sip. “My family is from the Appalachian mountains—a very remote part of the mountains. And I have encountered the Fae…when I was a girl. It was terrifying.”

“Terrifying because you were a child?” he asked.

“No. Terrifying because they tried to take me with them,” I explained. “I was twelve, and they thought I might be amusing entertainment or...I suppose you could say, a sort of pet.”

“How did you escape?”

“My grandmother, she...” I trailed off. “The details aren’t important. She managed to get me back, and the whole thing made a lasting impression.” I couldn’t help but shudder over the memory.

He studied me for a moment. “I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to bring up painful memories from your past.”

I squared my shoulders. “Do you have suspects of who would have taken the grimoire?”

“Yes. There’s only one person who had access to the entire magickal library. My executive assistant. He has been in my employ for over ten years,” Montgomery explained. “He was also a member of our order, and he was the only other person who knew how to unlock the wards and shields that protect my collection.”

I frowned at the news. “So, the book was under magickal protection, then?”

“Yes,” he said. “And I feel like a fool. I trusted him implicitly. We were friends, and I would have never expected him to steal from me.”

“Well, I hate to state the obvious, but have you confronted him about it?”

“I tried,” he said. “But he’s been absent for the past few days.”

“Since the theft of the book?” I asked.

“Correct,” he said. “Yesterday afternoon I went to his home in Highland Park where I found his front door ajar, the inside of his home ransacked...and his roommate murdered.”

“What?” I asked, incredulously.

He blew out a long breath. “And then I spent most of my evening talking to the police and confirming my whereabouts for the time of…the roommate’s estimated time of death. Fortunately for me, I have a solid alibi. I’d been lecturing downtown at the commercial realtor’s convention.”

So that’s what he meant when he said it was complicated. “Do you think his roommate was killed over the stolen book?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

A flicker of emotion crossed Montgomery’s face. “It’s possible,” he said. “The roommate’s death was an ugly one.”

“Did the cops pick up your assistant for questioning?” I asked. “I imagine they’d want to speak to him.”

“No, both he and the third roommate, his girlfriend, are missing. Which is why I am bringing this to your attention. It is my understanding that you know—and are friendly—with the couple.”

I frowned. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I rarely hang out socially with members of your lodge, Montgomery.”

He sent me an annoyed look. “My executive assistant is Sawyer Weston.”

“Sawyer?” I recognized that name and my stomach dropped in dread. “Does he have dark curly hair, is tall, in his early thirties and wear glasses?”