Chapter Five
I wasn’t ashamed to stand behind Bri as she knocked on the door of the conservator’s shoppe. After all, she was the one who’d gotten us into this potentially life-threatening situation, and if the man proved to be creepy odd, I preferred not to be the first to encounter him or his pet bat.
The man who answered the door was indeed smallish, as the stable girl had said. A pair of round spectacles perched precariously at the tip of his hooked nose. “Can I help you?” he asked, peering at us as if we were the ones keeping winged rodents as pets.
“We’re here about a grimoire,” Bri said. “Are you Mr. Tell?”
“Indeed, indeed. I had word from Jack Turner that you girls would be coming. Please, do come in.”
Bri followed the man without hesitation, but I found myself looking upward, in case any errant bats decided to swoop down.
Unfortunately, Mr. Tell did not seem to share my reservations.
I watched in horror as he removed a furry, mouse-sized creature from his front breast pocket and placed it on a perch.
“Crivvens, it’s true,” I breathed over Bri’s shoulder, but she only had eyes for the rows upon rows of grimoires before us.
The cottage reminded me of an apothecary, with bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, large jars full of what I assumed was ink, and several more perches, presumably for the bat.
Please, for the sake of all that is holy, let there only be one bat.
“How did you come by so many grimoires?” Bri asked, leaning forward to read the spines on one of the shelves lining the room.
“It’s my life’s work,” Mr. Tell said, motioning us over to a table where a large grimoire was held between the clamps of a vise. “People bring them to me for repair, or I find them myself. Many don’t want them anymore.”
Bri and I shared a confused glance. “Why not?” she asked.
“Without a witch to use them, they become rather cantankerous. Even family grimoires turn up in estate sales now and then. They’re difficult to use without a female descendent.”
“Do you sell them?” I asked, curious despite myself. I kept one eye on the bat, which appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Still. One never knew with bats.
“I do, yes. Collectors come to me from all over the world. I’m very well known,” he added with an air of self-importance.
“I’m looking for a very specific grimoire,” Bri clarified. “Though I’m sure all yours are lovely.”
“Well, why don’t I make us some tea, and we can discuss what you’re searching for.” Before I could protest, the man disappeared into the kitchen and Bri continued scanning the books.
I rolled my eyes and glanced over the grimoires on the nearest shelf. They had intriguing names that meant nothing whatsoever to me, like The Book of Benevolent Lightning and Treasury of Living Artifacts.
“Would you know it if you saw it?” I asked Bri.
She shook her head, flaunting her curls, which she’d kept in a tidy little bonnet last night. My hair was still in its disheveled braid from yesterday, since I hadn’t seen the point of brushing it. No matter what I did, my hair was always stick-straight and as limp as steamed turnip greens.
“That’s part of the problem. No one in my family could describe it to me. They only know what it contains.”
“Then how do you plan on finding it?” I asked.
I was cut off by the return of Mr. Tell, who led us to a small round table with two chairs.
It made me think of Da, which made an uncomfortable lump form in my throat.
I pulled up a stool to sit and poured my tea without waiting for it to finish steeping.
Anything to wash down the terrible inevitability of tears.
“Now,” Mr. Tell said as he poured tea for himself and Bri. “Tell me about this grimoire you’re searching for.”
Bri added a splash of milk and two teaspoons of sugar to her tea, stirring it before responding. “It’s Achnarachian, of course. Around three hundred years old.”
“Hmmm. I don’t see many that old, but I know of several. Go on.”
“Dark red binding, most likely.”
“Oxblood red?” I asked, arching a brow.
“I suppose,” Bri replied, shooting me a dark look. “That’s all I know about its physical appearance.”
“Could be any number of grimoires,” Mr. Tell said, pushing his spectacles up right when I thought they might plummet off his nose.
“It contains a specific spell,” Bri said, sounding more urgent. “One that breaks curses.”
Now I perked up, causing me to bump the table and slosh tea into all our saucers. Mr. Tell and Bri glared at me with remarkably similar expressions.
“What sort of curse?” Mr. Tell asked when I shrank back, duly chastened.
Bri hesitated, eyes darting to mine. I could only stare back. She released a sigh and continued. “One that inflicts the accursed with a magical touch.”
My eyes widened. She hadn’t told Mr. Tell she was the one with the curse, but it seemed risky to reveal any of this to a stranger.
Considering I was already thinking of ways to exploit her power, I had to imagine there were others as selfish and greedy as I was.
I watched Mr. Tell, but his reaction was as tepid as my tea.
“Hmm. Well, I can’t say I’ve seen that particular grimoire. ”
“That’s it?” I asked, unable to contain myself any longer.
“Aren’t you curious about this curse? And, more important, why someone would consider it a curse and not a wonderful gift?
How about instead of finding a grimoire that breaks curses, you find one that passes curses off to willing participants? ”
“Hush, child,” Mr. Tell said, apparently to me. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
Bri hadn’t moved since she spoke. I glanced beneath the table and saw her hands clasped in her lap, the knuckles starkly pale against her brown skin. “Are you sure?” she asked the conservator. Her eyes teared up in a way that made me feel ashamed, as if I were the one crying in public.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Can you search through your grimoires, just to be positive?” Bri asked, her voice breaking. It was almost unbearable to see her so upset.
“My dear girl, I know every grimoire in this shoppe like the back of my hand. If I had any such book, I would know it.” Mr. Tell, who moments before had seemed as calm as clam shells, was beginning to grow agitated.
His knee was bobbing up and down below the table, and I noticed from the corner of my eye that the bat was beginning to stir on its perch.
“Maybe we should go,” I murmured to Bri, rising from the stool.
“If you don’t have it, surely you know who does.” Bri wasn’t moving. If anything, she seemed rather resolved to stay.
“No.” Mr. Tell rose, and the bat stretched its wings and flapped twice. “I think the child is right. You should go.”
I bristled. Calling me child once was bad enough. But twice? “Now wait a min—”
“Be quiet,” Bri said to me, holding up her hand, “and let me finish.”
My mouth fell open in indignation, but I snapped it closed when the bat left its perch and began to fly around the room in dizzy, erratic loops. Dizzy for me, anyhow, as I did my best to focus on its location, lest I lose sight of the blasted creature and find it tangled in my hair.
“I need to find this grimoire, Mr. Tell. I’m perfectly happy to pay you for your time if you’d please write down a list of people I can contact.”
“A list?” Mr. Tell said, sounding deeply offended. “Do you suppose grimoire conservators grow on trees, young lady?”
“If grimoires and conservators are as rare as you say, then you must know about this one!” Bri walked past the little man and started scanning the shelves, her fists clenched in her skirt, as if she didn’t trust herself not to use them.
By now, Mr. Tell was as distressed as his bat, yelling at Bri to leave at once. Sensing that her time was coming to an end, Bri began tearing grimoires from the shelves like a woman possessed, which resulted in Mr. Tell scrambling to catch them before their precious spines could hit the floor.
“Bri! What are you doing?” I shouted, but my voice was lost in the chaos. Deciding Bri was perfectly capable of handling this smallish, creepy-odd man by herself, I headed for the door. I’d agreed to help her find a grimoire, not ransack a conservator’s shoppe and possibly get myself arrested.
Unfortunately, it was at this moment that the bat decided to swoop directly in front of my face, eliciting a sound I’ve never made before or since.
This served two purposes: one, it caused Bri and Mr. Tell to cease their shouting and look at me; and two, it seemed to make the bat pause long enough that it changed course and landed on its master’s head.
Now, you’d think a man who keeps a pet bat would not be alarmed by such behavior, but Mr. Tell let out a girlish squeal and began tearing at his gray hair, of which there was very little to begin with.
“Let’s go!” I hissed at Bri, turning to flee before she could protest. We ran out the door and toward Fergus and the cart, Mr. Tell’s yips and yelps fading in the distance.
When we were a good clip away from the cottage, I turned to Bri and gave her my sternest glare, one that would undoubtedly have turned Finlay to stone.
“What?” she demanded without looking at me, her cheeks still glistening with tears.
“Are you going to explain what happened back there?”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Bri’s chin was set at a stubborn angle.
I thought about ripping the reins from her hands and bringing this entire madcap road trip to a grinding halt, but I didn’t want to startle Fergus, and besides, the sooner we got home, the better.
“Listen. I understand you want to put an end to this so-called curse of yours, but you can’t go around assaulting grimoires and befuddling little old men!
We have laws here in Achnarach, believe it or not. ”
“Mm-hmm.” She sounded like she didn’t believe we had laws, or at least not ones that had to be adhered to.