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“What?” Scrimshaw said, his eyes wide as he backed away from me, his feet leaving oily prints all over my plastic tray. “Listen, you didn’t specify how closely you wanted to find the thing, all you said was – gack!”
My soda was safely intact in one hand, because I’d used the other to grab Scrimshaw and squeeze him by his tiny, stupid body. The demon’s eyes bulged as I gripped harder, my teeth bared.
“I paid a premium,” I snarled. “I expected premium results.”
“Gack,” Scrimshaw sputtered, hitting limply at my fingers with his tiny hands. “I – that kid over there really thinks you’re nuts, you’re talking to your hand now and – gack!”
“Coming back to me with ‘The Tome is in Valero’ is not good enough, Scrimshaw, and you know it.” I narrowed my eyes at him, my lips curling back. “Now. You’re going to be a good little imp and uphold your end of the contract. All you did was give me information I already knew. If you swear to properly narrow down the book’s location – and I mean narrow this time, not just its general whereabouts in a city a hundred miles wide – I’ll let you go.”
Scrimshaw wriggled in my hand, beating at my fingers. “You’re killing me,” he gasped. “Can’t breathe – turning blue.”
I squinted, and when I found that he was still the exact same copper color from before, shook my head. Demons. Damn liars, all of them.
“Tell you what,” I sighed. “You do this one thing for me, and once this is over, you can come back and see me. I’ll buy you some more food. Consider it part of the contract. Your own takeout to bring home to – well, wherever the hell it is you sleep.”
“Under Nick’s bed,” he said, no longer struggling, not quite so resistant. He stopped slapping at my fingers. “And really? My own burger?”
I smiled. “Two burgers. I promise.”
Scrimshaw squinted back, then held out his little hand, shaking the end of my finger. “Deal.” I set him down on the tray, ready to swat him in case he tried to vanish in a puff of farts.
I raised m
y finger at him. “Don’t think I’m not still pissed about this. And it’s probably none of my business, but Nick should probably feed you more. The way you inhaled all those fries I’m starting to think you don’t get fed at all.”
Scrimshaw shrugged. “Actually, I don’t need to eat. It’s a luxury. Nick gives me an allowance, and I make money from freelancing, but I spend it all on whiskey.” He held out his hands to either side and made a comical shrug. “What’re ya gonna do?”
I shook my head. “Tiniest drunk I’ve ever met.”
“I find that offensive,” he grunted. “I can’t even get drunk, I just like the taste. Now, if we’re talking about baby’s blood? Now that’s – ”
“Stop talking,” I groaned. “Please. I’d really rather not find out.”
“Fine,” he said. “Suit yourself. But if you want more information on the Tome, that was the best I could offer. It’s not like anyone’s really seen this book. Even the city’s strongest seers and diviners can only give you a rough idea of where it’s hiding.” He folded his arms, rubbed one of his horns, and tapped his foot. “Unless – ”
“Unless?” I glanced around me, growing increasingly annoyed with nearby diners who had grown increasingly interested in my eccentric conversation.
“Unless you contract someone for a little more concrete direction.”
“So a communion with an entity?” I asked.
It was how the arcane underground had come to call contact with any of the numerous gods, demons, and powerful mythical creatures that dwelled in the cracks found in our world. Communions were serious business, ritual magic that almost always constituted binding contracts. Kind of like that bum deal with Mammon, a voice in my head sarcastically mumbled.
“A communion,” he said. “Right. We should go scrounge up some reagents for this one.”
I groaned. It had been such a long day, and while I wasn’t at all in the mood to commune that night, the Tome situation was urgent, bordering on dire. Any information would be more than welcome.
“So not in the mood for a communion right now,” I said, clearing my table and collecting my trash. “But fine. Which entity are we contacting?”
“Entities,” Scrimshaw corrected. “Three of them. At once. Let’s be honest, when it comes to esoteric matters, there’s no better source than the Sisters.”
Chapter 20
In retrospect I was kind of grateful that Scrimshaw had eaten his portion of my dinner. We’d spent the next couple of hours running around securing reagents – not exactly the easiest task considering what was on the shopping list – and it would’ve been way more challenging if a bloated stomach had been involved. Plus it was basically closing time for most shops. Good thing I knew about the Black Market this time.
If I’m honest, the lock of my hair was the toughest part. Not just anyone’s, mind, it had to be the petitioner’s hair. Granted I’d grown it out enough not to miss, like, just one little braid’s worth, but I’d been in the arcane underground long enough to know what a competent witch could do with even just a single strand of hair. Bindings, curses, and potentially much worse.
I also didn’t appreciate the obvious enjoyment Scrimshaw took in cutting it off my head with a tiny pair of bronze scissors he’d produced seemingly out of nowhere. He wasn’t wearing pants, and that just made it extra upsetting. Do you know what a jail purse is? No? Welp. Now you do. Congratulations.
