Page 30 of Grimoires & Glamoury

“They figure the killer was looking for something and they’re not sure if the assailant killed Tadd before or after they searched for it. But bottom line. It was a violent death.” Nash paused for a moment. “Did Montgomery tell you what state the body was in when he found it?”

“No.” I gulped.

“Do you want to know?”

No, I did not. “Tell me,” I said anyway.

“The murder weapon was a double-sided blade. Long and extremely sharp.”

“Like a sword?” I asked.

“A sword is one of the theories,” Nash said. “But who in the hell walks around with a sword to conduct a B and E?”

The hair rose off the back of my neck. I knew of one particular race of Supernaturals that did use swords…and obsidian tipped spears...

“And with no other leads,” Nash was saying, “now the police investigation has shifted toward Sawyer and Shelby.”

Dread and fear were racing through my body, and I worked hard to not let Nash see how this information about Tadd’s death had affected me.

By the old gods, I thought, barely managing to repress a shudder.

Sawyer had come from Hemlock Hollow—a locale known for the variety of its Supernatural community including at least two races of the Fae. Dex, the best psychic I knew, had told me he couldn’t get a clear picture of the situation because it felt like there was a glamour thrown down, the missing grimoire was of Fae origin, and Tadd—Sawyer and Shelby’s housemate—had been violently murdered with a sword.

And when I’d tried to communicate with Tadd’s spirit, all I’d seen was a disorienting blur of images, sounds and feelings. Then I’d been blocked out and pushed back from the house. What if it had been a Fae glamour to try and cover their presence in the mortal world? I’d spent the past two weeks watching for any other signs of the Fae—or their particular brand of violence—and had seen none.

But now with this new information, everything had changed.

“Montgomery should really tell the police about the antique book that Sawyer stole,” Nash was saying, and I snapped my attention back to him.

“You told me that it was valuable,” Nash continued. “The cops can’t do a decent job investigating if they don’t have the whole picture.”

“Agreed,” I said. “However, the stolen item is not merely an old book. It’s ancient and I’d bet enchanted.”

“Whoa.” Nash’s eyebrows rose. “You mean like a personal spell book?”

“Exactly. And its provenance is not...local, you could say.”

“It’s from Europe or something?” He frowned. “And what does provenance mean?”

“In archeological terms ‘provenance’ is the documented history of an artifact’s ownership, custody and location,” I explained, purposefully not correcting his assumption that the book was European in origin.

“Hmm.” Nash folded his arms as he leaned back. “So does that mean the book isn’t the legal property of Montgomery?”

I chose my next words with care. “He told me that he had inherited it from his grandfather.”

“And did he say how his grandfather had acquired it?”

“No, he did not.”

“You’re doing that thing again Lorna. Where what you don’t say is louder than what you do.”

I set the files aside and folded my hands in my lap. Pressing them firmly together, I hoped that Nash wouldn’t notice that they were shaking. “There are some things you’re better off not knowing, Nash.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “Do you think—hypothetically—that someone would commit a murder to get their hands on this old book?”

“That’s an excellent theory,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice even and calm.

But down in my gut I was scared.