Page 1 of Fleshbound (Enchanted Ink)
Quills and Parchment
Salem, Massachusetts
“ H ey, Quill —I entered and stocked that last shipment of books.” Perry glanced at his watch. “It’s a minute until closing. Want me to lock up?”
Quilliam lifted his gaze from the book he was nose deep in. “Is it that late already?” He slipped his pocket watch out and gave it a glance, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you come get me?” he lifted his gaze to Perry. “You’ve been alone out there all night.”
“It’s been slow,” Perry murmured, grinning. “I’ve been fine.”
Quill rose and approached Perry, passing him to head out into the bookshop.
He waved a hand, locking the door from a few feet away, and then another wave flipped the Open sign to Closed.
He spun and grinned at Perry. “I’m sorry.
I’ve been doing some digging for Eli and…
” Quill adjusted his multicolored bowtie and smiled, afraid he might get their hopes up if he spoke too soon.
Perry’s eyebrows rose. “Did you find something?”
“A long shot. It will probably lead to another dead end.” He smiled wryly. “Don’t say anything until I find more.”
Disappointment swept over Perry’s face. “Ah, okay. But I’m happy to hear you’ve found something. That’s good news, I suppose.”
Quill wasn’t so sure. Digging into Eli’s family tree was arduous at best. There was little chance they’d be able to link the familial crystal that had wreaked so much havoc to any particular one of Eli’s relatives, which was a shame.
Quill loved a good mystery, but without more clues, he was hitting dead end after dead end.
“Maybe. Give me more time before we grow enthusiastic. It’s likely not in this book, but there may be leads as to where we go next. ”
Hopefully.
Perry pulled his light jacket on and zipped it up. “Well, I can give you all the time you need if that’s what you’re doing back there. I can come in tomorrow if you want.”
“Tomorrow’s your day off.”
Perry sighed. “I know, but… if this book has hints, you need to focus on them. Not customers.”
“And you need rest,” Quill said, urging Perry toward the back door.
“Pot meet kettle,” Perry said under his breath.
Quill ignored the little dig. “I don’t need you so worn out that you become ill on me. Have a lovely day off. I’ll be fine here.”
“As long as you actually take your day off this week,” Perry said before he exited into the back hallway leading to the apartments above.
A day without reading?
Nonsense.
Quill locked the back door and bolted it, chuckling.
He waved a hand over the locked to give them an extra reinforcement—and returned to the book he’d been reviewing.
Page after page of tedium. Genealogy wasn’t a favorite topic, especially when so many ancestors named their offspring after one another.
The same names often repeated over and over and over again, ad nauseum, giving one the fear that mistakes had been made due to the confusion that could cause.
He wasn’t sure how many hours had passed when the cacophonous sound of a book landing on the floor captured his attention.
He paused, listening closer. Books often moved of their own accord, the spells within some playing as the night stretched closer to midnight.
Toppling over wasn’t unusual, but the book had sounded as if it had fallen from a mighty height.
Quill was used to odd little sounds in his shop at night and usually paid little attention. The runes protecting the Enchanted Ink Building were powerful and kept out dangers to the coven.
Yet, a cold chill skittered up his spine.
Rising, he rounded the desk where he’d been seated and quietly crept into the bookstore.
Lifting his hand, he made the stars shining on the ceiling grow brighter to illuminate the darkened interior.
Another wave started the fire in the hearth, warming the chill in the air.
He searched the shadows and saw no signs of movement, yet there was the faint sense that he wasn’t alone.
Conjuring a ball of magic in his hand, he sent it cascading through the shop, seeking the source of the sound.
Near the back, it stopped, exploding into a brighter light.
Quill raced to that aisle, only to find no one.
A fat tome lay on the floor, but nothing else.
“If there is someone here, show yourself!”
No one emerged from the shadows.
He scanned the next few aisles, but they, too, were empty.
Frowning, Quillam lifted the book off the floor, dusted it off, and read the title.
Fleshbound . His frown deepened. He didn’t recall that particular book arriving at the store, nor having seen it before.
Carrying it, he crossed to the front counter and opened the computer.
According to their system, there was no such title in stock.
He pulled the invoice from the newest shipment, wondering if Perry had accidentally missed it, but alas, it wasn’t listed there, either.
He tapped the cover.
Another mystery. One he had no time to explore.
Fleshbound. Well, you’re covered in plum velvet and golden clasps, not flesh at all. Your title lies.
Opening the cover, he found the pages inside blank. Not one single word on any of the many vellum pages within. They did not seem to be made of flesh, either, much to his relief. Over the years, he’d had a few books written on stretched skin and it was not something he enjoyed handling.
He closed it, caressing the outer golden, gilded edges of the pages, curiouser still.
Where had it come from? Books mysteriously arriving at the shop was fairly normal, but they usually came mixed within shipments of others.
They didn’t land on the floor of his shop in the middle of the night.
He considered the item stored below, deep in the catacombs under the Enchanted Ink building.
The Hammer of the Witches , an evil tome, filled with vile, dark magic had arrived and nearly destroyed Atlas before he and Cassius had learned it was there.
From the moment he’d locked it in its specially prepared cage, he’d been expecting others to learn of its location and attempt to steal it.
While the runes protected them, the type of beings who would want a book so contemptable had the kind of magic that could potentially break through their fortifications.
Was Fleshbound snuck in to learn their secrets from the inside?
He scanned the front and back again, searching for signs of hidden magic, but there were none.
While there was something charmed about it, the book itself was not cursed or bespelled.
Still, he wouldn’t leave it to chance. He marched to the back to lock it somewhere safe.
He couldn’t take it to the book cage below the building—that would be too dangerous.
He had a strongbox where he stored lesser valuable books that did not need to be on public display.
Once it was behind the enchanted steel, he eyed his pocket watch again and huffed.
One in the morning? With a sigh, he darkened the stars, turned off the fire, and turned off any other lights.
He left, locking everything tight behind him.
Once upstairs in his apartment, he walked past the towering piles of books lining the walls and started a kettle of water.
His cat, Mouse, curled his lithe body around one of Quill’s ankles, purring loudly.
After the cat had been fed and given plentiful head scratches—and a cup of Valarian root tea made—he got ready for bed, where he settled in with another book before drifting off to sleep.