Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The Third Conjuration
Seal XXXV
Chesterfield's address indicated a street off the Grand Canal, close to one of the major antiquarian booksellers in the city. After dinner at the restaurant--belly full--a small part of my mind argued for going back to the hotel for a nap. But with the day already over, I knew that nap would soon turn into sleep. So I had insisted on paying Chesterfield an unexpected household call since after a brief querying of the restaurant waiter on the layout of the city, it turned out that his address was quite close to our current location.
Electric lamps winked along the boulevards and at the feet of the bridges spanning the canals. The air was cold and above, the half moon was a crystalline shard against obsidian. Rhys and I passed a band of street musicians bundled up in colorful scarves and fingerless gloves, playing a mournful melody.
"I'm going to visit the city library again tomorrow," Rhys told me. "I have a feeling that I'm getting close to something."
"You did say that you were tracking down Blackthorne," I said. "But wouldn't it make more sense to track down whatever book he said that Parrish owed him? You might try the booksellers. Or better yet, find the Liber Tutelarum with me. He might not be looking for that particular book but it is possible."
"I've been tracking him for a while already. He's not above stealing books. No animate grimoires as far as I know, but his previous modus operandi have involved libraries."
"Why libraries?"
"It's an extensive collection. Most libraries are understaffed. And the librarians couldn't possibly keep track of all the volumes at the same time."
"Wouldn't it be easier to just inform the librarians that they have a thief in their midst? Maybe that would make them keep a sharper eye out on their grimoire collections."
"You don't think I haven't tried that already? Librarians are an arrogant lot. They think nothing can get by them since they are the ones wearing spectacles."
"I haven't found that to be the case. In my job as a research assistant, they have been very helpful."
"That's because you've been asking them for help, not the other way around," he snorted.
"Well, I suppose if you were telling them to do something, they wouldn't like it," I replied. "I wouldn't like to be told how to do my job from some random person. Maybe you should have couched it in more conciliatory terms instead. A suggestion, perhaps."
"Perhaps."
We had stopped at the middle of a bridge arching over the Grand Canal. A vessel drifted by below us, strung with tiny lights like fireflies. A group was having an early All Hallow's Eve celebration. Laughter drifted up from below. I peered over the bridge railing to see costumed partiers dancing and drinking.
"I admire their balance," I said. "I would have already fallen into the water by now."
"You must be a dedicated land lubber." Rhys stood beside me also looking down. "You've never been on a boat before today, have you?"
"I've been on a ship many times, just not in this form," I said. "After I became aware, I did cross the Channel twice, but I was seasick the entire time. Let's just say I won't be doing too many long sea voyages in my immediate future."
"Look on the bright side," he replied. "You've been around long enough for technology to have progressed. We have automobiles and aeroplanes now."
"I have mixed feelings about technology. I don't like lifts much." I turned my head to say something else, but found his face close to mine. "Um, I don't like telephones much either."
"Oh really? Perhaps you've just had some bad luck with your experiences lately." He moved closer.
My breath stuttered.
Bang!
I jerked backward and Rhys cursed. Several small children in masks raced across the bridge with crackling sparks in their hands. They screamed in delight as their guardian, a large man carrying a lantern disguised as a severed head, lumbered after them, futilely calling out to the children to line up as they headed to an aunt's house.
Rhys finally sighed and raked a hand over his hair.
I shook my head. "I suppose that was our cue to get going."
* * *
In the dark, the narrow townhouse looked identical to all the other townhouses on the street. The shutters to one of the second story windows were open revealing a bit of interior light. The canal and the pedestrian walkway was devoid of traffic when I climbed up the few stairs to ring the doorbell.
I heard the ringing echo through the house I did not hear any footsteps on the foyer on the other side of the door to indicate that someone was coming. I rang the doorbell again. Nothing.
"Apparently the Baron is wrong," said Rhys. "I don't think Chesterfield is home."
"This is ridiculous! He's never home."
"Perhaps he is out with some drinking buddies at a local pub." Rhys was watching the street across from the canal. "The night, after all, is still young."
"This is frustrating." In a fit of annoyance, I pounded a fist against the door. The portal shuddered and then squeaked open. "Oh my. I didn't even say any magic words."
He regarded the door. "Why would a book collector leave his door unlocked? I would assume that he would have some rather valuable volumes in his collection. Not all book collectors are noble creatures, you know. Bibliomania causes some of them to plunge into the unsavory parts beyond the law."
"Who cares about bibliomaniacs," I told him. "This door is practically an open invitation. No one will know we've even been here if we just take a look around."
"Looking only and no touching unless you've got gloves."
"You sound like a professional cat burglar."
I stepped through the threshold into a rather bare parlor. Rhys followed, closing the door behind him.
It did not take long to go over the first floor of the townhouse. The living room and the kitchen seemed unremarkable. There was another door leading to a study filled with books. Rhys performed his location spell for the Liber Tutelarum while standing in the middle of that room, but found nothing.
Upstairs, I methodically checked the rooms. The bedrooms were unoccupied. I twisted the knob to the bathroom door and was confronted with a wall of rotting stink.
"Oh God!"
At first glance, the bathroom was a pristine area, tiled with white and soothing light blue. On one side was a white porcelain sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet over it. Next to the sink was a white porcelain latrine. At the opposite end of the room was a claw footed bathtub. A man's head and arm dangled over the sides, the flesh gray-white. The eyes wide open, glazed, sightless.
I had seen far worse during the course of my existence, but death had always unnerved me, no matter the form. I walked inside to examine the body.
Chesterfield lay naked in the bathtub full of water, his only company a bobbing sponge. His skin had taken on the strange waxy appearance that all corpses took on after they had been in the water for a while. Otherwise, there was no blemish on the body--no indication of the trauma that may have killed him.
"Bloody hell." Rhys had come into the bathroom behind me. "This is not good."
"No." I backed away and got out into the hallway to take in some fresh air. I felt like losing my dinner. "He has all the appearances that he's had a heart seizure. But I don't think that's the real cause of death."
"Intuition?"
"Mostly." I looked down the hall. Heard nothing. "But the Baron told me that he saw Chesterfield yesterday. The body in there has been in there for more than one day. More than two days judging from the state of decomposition."
"You think the Baron is in on this?"
"Possibly. It is also possible that the murderer created an illusion so that when the body was eventually found, the date of death would be altered."
"That is certainly a possibility." Rhys took my elbow and began steering me towards the stairs. "Or that might not be Chesterfield at all."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, with everything said and done, we can't say for sure what he looks like, can we? We had only verbal description to go by. We've never seen a photograph of him let alone seen him in person."
|