Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The First Conjuration
Seal IV
The buildings on Castor Street had seen better days--now they all sat in a gray row, slowly decaying in their complacent gentility. My flat was in one of those buildings. The third floor to be exact. I did not relish climbing up the stairs. Although I had not been as severely affected as the Key, I was not particularly in an energetic mood either. At my building, I let myself in and glanced around the first landing. I didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean that no one was watching from their peepholes--especially the landlady.
Heels clattered on the stairs above me. A woman appeared in black heels and silver sequined dress. Her short brown hair was a waved bob accented with a matching sequined headband and black feathers.
"Why Ana, you look terrible!"
Trust Darla to tell it as it is.
"I know," I replied. I've known from experience not to contradict my neighbor. "I had an accident with a shelf of books."
Darla made a tsking sound at the back of her throat. "You work too hard. I thought you were on vacation since that professor you were working for was on sabbatical."
"I am. I was just working on one of my own projects." I shifted the Key and his clothes more securely under my arm. The Key wasn't saying anything now, but that didn't mean that he wasn't trying to get away. "You look all dressed up to the nines, Darla. Isn't it a bit early to go out?"
She gave me an odd look. "Early? It's about six in the evening."
"Really? I suppose time got away from me."
The honk of an automobile outside almost startled me from losing my grip on the Key.
"Oh, there's Gerald. He's taking me to the Gardens for dinner," my neighbor gushed, her rouged lips curving in pleasure. "It's the most elite restaurant in Colchester. I have no idea how he managed to obtain a reservation. And afterwards, we'll be seeing Hamlet at the theater."
"That sounds marvelous," I said, pretending enthusiasm. "Well, you'd better go. You don't want Gerald to wait too long for you."
Darla tittered in laughter as she waggled her fingers and then disappeared through the front door.
The Gardens may be elite, but the food is terrible, the Key announced as I began trudging up the stairs. She's going to get indigestion and then will have to suffer sitting through a depressing play.
"You say this from personal experience?"
The woman I took to the Gardens later accused me of poisoning her, he sulked. One of my few failures, I'm afraid.
"It sounds like you're quite successful at wooing the ladies." I unlocked the door to my flat and stepped inside before turning on one of the living room lamps. A floral couch and floor to ceiling bookshelves greeted me.
I am. He said it as a fact, with no arrogance. After my many years of observation, I find human females to be terribly easy to understand.
"Well, don't tell that to the next woman you meet. She would be quite offended." I put my hat and umbrella on a rack next to the door. And then tossed the Key and his belongings on the couch.
Hey!
I wandered off to the kitchen to fill a kettle with water while the Key continued his grumbling about having his hide bruised. I put the full kettle on top of the stove and turned the gas on. Then I started going through my cupboards, trying to find tea. Ah, I still had the tin of oolong I had gotten a few months ago. Ambling back into the living room, I took out the receipt I had tucked into a pocket.
"L.T. Greenglass Auction House."
Excuse me?
"It looks like the Liber Tutelarum went to Greenglass." I tapped the receipt against my chin, thinking. "Parrish probably sent the book to the auction house in the hopes that it would get a better price than simply selling it from his store outright."
Then we'll have to get to Greenglass.
"We?" I stood over the couch and frowned at the Key. The book, of course, had no expression in response to my disapproval. "You're not looking for the Liber Tutelarum."
But I am looking for Blackthorne. He'll figure out where that book is sooner or later. I just have to get there before he does.
I still wasn't quite sure why a Key would want to seek out an obviously dangerous sorcerer like Blackthorne. "What do you have against him? Granted, he is crazy, but..."
Just trust me that I have my own reasons for going after him. So what's the Liber Tutelarum to you? Grimoires are usually loners.
I sighed and turned to face my shelves of books. Yes, it's nice to be surrounded by other books if you yourself are a book, but it's still very lonely if none of them have the ability to talk back to you. "The Liber Tutelarum, seventh edition," I clarified. "I've been trying to find all the editions, but this so far has been the only solid lead. The seventh edition is one of my siblings."
Does this mean that you're also the Liber Tutelarum? The Key sounded suspiciously excited.
"Yes."
What edition?
"Tenth. As far as I know, I'm the last."
I had heard rumors about the tenth edition--it had passed through the hands of many sorcerers with many strange and unique spells added to it with each owner. And then some time in the sixteenth century, it mysteriously disappeared after the murder of the famous occultist, Edward Talbot.
"So you already seem to know much about me," The kettle whistled when the water started boiling. "Who are you? I can't keep calling you 'The Key'." I took the kettle off the stove and poured the water into a teapot to seep. Then I made myself a cup of tea and went back to the living room. I sat down on the couch, feeling suddenly tired. I put the cup down on a small table nearby and leaned back and closed my eyes, briefly I promised myself.
Rhys. The Key finally answered. I go by Rhys Lattimore.
|