Chapter 15 #2
I wait for a few minutes while he reads through the accompanying description.
“Blood magic.” He sits back in his chair and sucks his teeth as he thinks. “You said you have your mother’s post-mortem report?”
I reach into my leather satchel and pull out a copy of the case file Maddie gave Danny. Grumps flips through to the post-mortem report and skims the handwritten notes.
“It says here that your mother died from exsanguination, but that the blood found at the scene, although substantial, was insufficient for the cause of death. Which means the killer must’ve collected some of it.”
“According to Maddie, Scotland Yard are leaning toward the assumption that Viv may have been killed somewhere else and staged on the floor of her shop.”
Grumps frowns. “Well, I’m working on the assumption that the killer took her blood.”
“That’s pretty much the same conclusion I came to.
It also points to the person who created the trap as being Constance Crawshanks, the middle sibling.
Since blood magic was used to seal the trap, it can only be opened with the blood of a direct descendant.
If the killer bled her, it stands to reason that they’re going to attempt to use Vivienne’s blood to set the demon loose. ”
“I think I’m beginning to understand why Vivienne spiked her gin.”
“What?” I frown.
“Dosing herself with magic would contaminate her blood. What if she knew someone could attempt to use her blood to open the trap? By drinking the spiked gin, it basically rendered her blood useless.” He mutters, “Clever girl.”
“The killer might not know her blood is tainted,” I point out.
“We better hope they don’t.” Grumps scowls. “Because the next in the direct bloodline is you.”
I swallow hard. “We better pray they don’t know about me then.”
“I never thought I’d say this after encouraging you to be open and truthful with your friends, but it’s probably a good thing that you haven’t told them about your connection to Vivienne.”
“But what about the adoption? Won’t there be a paper trail someone can find?”
“Um, well, we might have fudged that a bit using magic,” he admits a little sheepishly. “Trust me, no one will find you through your adoption records.”
“But Sam...”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I know I’m changing my tune, but I don’t think we can afford to let anyone know right now. For your safety, we can’t risk the wrong person finding out.”
He’s got a point, but I feel even worse continuing to keep this from Sam, especially after…well, we got closer.
“I know it’s not ideal, Harry,” Grumps says sympathetically. “But we’ll figure it out, I promise, and to be honest, having met Sam, I have a feeling that boy will figure it out soon enough.”
“What?”
“Harry, he’s intelligent, he’s a seasoned investigator, and he has psychic gifts, one of which is psychometry. It’s really only a matter of time before he figures out the truth about you, whether by deduction or by touching just the right object.”
“Then maybe I should just tell him.”
He contemplates me for a moment, then finally shakes his head. “Not yet, I’m trying to buy us some time. Right now, the only people who know are you, me, and your dads, and it needs to stay that way until we identify Viv’s killer.”
I nod slowly as he picks up the book he was looking at before I interrupted him. “Here, take a look at this.”
He lays the open pages in front of me, and I draw in a sharp breath. It’s a colour illustration of a creature with a wreath of flowers around its head, pale blue skin, and eight arms, each ending in curved, needle-like claws.
“That’s him. That’s what Ishaan looked like in his true form, right before Cordelia got him to pop Dr Whyte like a ripe pimple.”
Grumps frowns. “I was hoping it wasn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because this is no ordinary run-of-the-mill demon. Ishaan is a demon lord, cast down into Naraka, the place of eternal torment, by Shiva. He is incredibly old and powerful, and exceptionally vicious.” He rubs his forehead in frustration.
“Your bloody birth family don’t do things by halves, do they? ”
“What I don’t understand is how the killer even knows about the demon,” I muse. “If this is the Crawshanks secret being protected at all costs, they wouldn’t have let that information outside of the family, would they?”
“I don’t know.” Grumps rubs his jaw thoughtfully.
“Grumps,” I say quietly, “what if it gets let out? I’ve seen what it did under Cordelia’s control. If it’s released with no restraints binding it, there’ll be widespread carnage.”
“That’s what we’re trying to avoid.” Grumps blows out a breath. “We really need those friends of yours to figure out who the killer is and stop them before they can open the trap, but I think we need to be prepared for every eventuality.”
“I’ve been thinking about that too, but I haven’t come up with any sort of plan for if it’s released. I just don’t think either of us would stand a chance against an actual demon, let alone a demon lord.”
“No, you’re right. We wouldn’t. The only thing I’ve thought of is somehow finding a way to entreat Shiva to shove him headfirst back into Naraka, where he was banished the first time around.”
“How on earth do we contact an ancient and all-powerful deity? It’s not like we can just email them.”
Grumps shrugs. “Beats me. On the plus side, we’re in one of the most comprehensive occult archives in the world. I don’t suppose you know what happened to that book of Cordelia’s, do you?”
“The Book of Lala Khal? Not a clue.”
“We’ll have to ask the custodians if they have any information on it.”
“Yes, sir, how may I help?”
Grumps yelps and falls back in his chair, patting his chest as the custodian from earlier suddenly appears next to him.
“Bloody hell, Anselm, do we need to put a bloody bell on you? You’re lucky I don’t have a heart condition.”
“My apologies, Mr Ames, but I’m Aldred. Anselm is my brother.”
We both stare at the man, who is absolutely indistinguishable from his sibling, right down to his beige cardigan and boring tie.
“Um, we were wondering if you had any information on an ancient book of magic. We know it as The Book of Lala Khal,” I explain. “It was found in the Lala Khal region of India in the early part of the nineteenth century.”
“Hmm, I see. Would it be known by any other name?” Aldred asks.
“Possibly, but I have no idea what.”
“That will make things more difficult, but not impossible.” He gives a single decisive nod. “I will ask my brother Audren. His speciality is books on magic. One moment, please.”
He disappears behind a nearby bookcase, only to reappear several minutes later with a small stack of two or three books.
“I’m afraid we have no reference of a book with Lala Khal in its title, but I suspect that is not its true name, merely the location where it was found.
” He sets the books down between us. “Perhaps you should start with these volumes. They detail books of magic that are considered lost or destroyed.”
Grumps stares at the man contemplatively. “Audren?”
“Yes, Mr Ames.”
I thought he was Aldred; this man is identical to both his brothers. “Triplets?” I murmur.
“Yes, Master Ames,” he replies politely.
“And it didn’t occur to you to wear different clothes so that people can tell you apart?”
“Why would we want that?” he says, his expression genuinely confused.
“Never mind.” Grumps shakes his head. “Thank you.”
“Very good, sir. Please call if you require further assistance.”
“Oh, I will, but please don’t sneak up on me. It can’t be good for my blood pressure.”
His lips twitch slightly, then he excuses himself and disappears behind a different bookcase.
I glance down at my watch and note the time.
“What?”
“I was just thinking.” I nod towards the bookcase where Aldred disappeared.
“Constance’s daughter Evangeline haunts the bookshop, although she’s hiding right now.
Once they find her, it might be worth talking to her to see what she knows about her aunt Cordelia, her mother, and more importantly, the book.
Maybe she has an idea of what happened to it? ”
Grumps nods. “That’s a good idea. You should talk to Tristan. After what you told me about his father passing, he could probably use a distraction right now. If you wallow too long, grief can cripple you. I know how it was for me after I lost your grandmother.”
“I’ll go later.”
“No, go now. I’ll keep looking through these, but I doubt I’ll find anything. You’ll probably have better luck.”
“I can’t just leave you here on your own.”
“Harry, I got myself from Devon to Yorkshire and from Yorkshire to London. I think I can handle getting myself back to my hotel.”
“But—”
“Oh, shut up. Go.” He waves a hand. “I’ll just get a cab back.”
“That will cost a fortune.”
“Pah, all I have left is time and money. May as well use one to enjoy the other before I die.”