“Except this angry baby is likely a bound demon.”
“Yikes. Here, you take it.”
“I don’t want it!”
“Oh, crap. Really?”
“Just kidding. Here, let me take it off your hands.”
I had over my bag. Max proceeds to slide the book out, then turns away from me before cracking the cover open.
“Oh, dear,” he says immediately.
Maximus Archibald—alchemist, librarian, light warrior, and headmaster of the Inner Earth Academy—moves over to the circular reference desk in the center of the room. His black long-coat is tailored, his silver bow-tie sits slightly askew, and his eyes are as bright and intelligent as ever, as he studies the book from beneath heavy brows. He’s good looking, fit, and fairly spry for a 500 year old man who’s again more and more every time I see him, now that he’s grown weary of immortality.
“I’m sorry to barge in unannounced,” I say, sidling up next to him.
“It’s a delight to see you, no matter the hour.”
Meanwhile, the book is twitching and spasming before him, moaning faintly like something dying. Or something super evil.
“Your book isn’t happy, Sam.”
“I kinda stole it.”
Next, Max murmurs something in Latin under his breath. As he does, golden light suddenly coils from his fingers and seeps into the book’s spine. It lets out a final whimper before falling silent.
“Bound,” he says. Now, he starts really flipping through the pages. They don’t behave, though, and fight back, snapping like jaws. Bending away and avoiding his fingers. Max sighs and mutters another incantation. The pages finally lie flat.
“Where did you get this book, Sam?” he asks without looking up.
I tell him about my case and my nearly week-long surveillance of Mark’s house.
“Your target isn’t just dabbling in the dark arts, Sam. His family created black magic as we know it today.”
“Say again.”
Max suddenly stands and paces, running a hand through his hair. “His name is Mark, right?”
“Yes…”
“Mark Elizur Cain?”
I frown. “Not sure about the middle name, but yeah—that’s him. How do you know that, Max?”
He stops, turns. “Because I know of him, and of his family. TheElizur line.They trace their bloodline all the way back to the Builders of Babel. You know, in the Bible. The Tower of Babel? They’re descendants of Nimrod, ancient Babylonian king. We’re talkingpre-Deluge sorcery,Sam. As inbeforeNoah’s flood. These were the first magicians. The ones who invented the kind of magic the rest of us areonly beginning to understand.”
“That’s… comforting.”
Max continues, eyes bright with a mix of awe and dread.
“Mark is descended directly from the family that first summoned monsters into this world. They created the original werewolves, mermaids, and dozens of species people chalk up as myth.”
“You got all that from one spellbook?”
He holds it up reverently. “Thespellbook, Sam. It’s the only known text that cancreateshifters. Only one bloodline ever had access to the spell itself. Werewolves exist because of this book. Vampires, too. You and I are living proof of the fallout from this magic.”
I swallow. “Okay, wow.”
