the few times Mathieu’s had visited him were any indication.
Grandpa might know about his mystery book and he had a driving desire to know, because it was making him insane. Getting up, he showered and dressed for the day in jeans and a frilly white shirt. By now, he didn’t bother fighting with the women about the clothing left in his dresser because he never won. Slowly but surely, he was now dressing and walking like a girl. He pull his long hair up into a ponytail. In the short weeks he’d been there, the white strands had taken on a lovely luster and had grown to almost below his ribs. It was getting very long and needed a trim. It was just one more thing to get done that day before the party.
He scooped up his book and shoulder bag, going into Avian’s portion of the large room. Placing a sweet kiss on her cheek, he snuck out of the room, taking up the keys to the carriage from their hook on the wall. Avian had taught him to drive it, which he did rather proficiently, if he did say so himself.
The drive took a bit longer than when Avian drove because he got lost twice; which was significantly less than the last time he drove there. However, once he got into the warehouse area, he was able to find his way. He only had to ask three people for directions, and they were none-too-happy with his description of ‘a store in a warehouse that sells lots of crap and is ran by an old man with a cane’.
Not surprisingly, the store was exactly as it had been each time before, minus his two new companions. He and Tesla had learned to tolerate one another because they needed each other in a weird sort of way: Mathieu was the only one who could hear him and Tesla was able to teleport him to Avian in an emergency. Although, he avoided using that mode of transportation because it left him feeling rather off kilter. Nikola, however, was much more easy-going. She was younger and had a way of lifting his spirits; she was his constant companion. Nikola was even with him now, tucked into the depths of his bag, fast asleep.
“Grandpa? You around here?” He hollered, looking around at the small colored orbs on a shelf. Each was labeled with a different trait: kindness, curiosity, pride, courage, and so on. Picking up courage, a marble size orb of a rich gold color, he rolled it in his palm.
A grumble from the depths of the store told him where the old man was. He wove through the shelves to the back corner of the building, orb still in hand, where a collection of odd weaponry was assembled. Grandpa sat sharpening some curved blade that looked to be part of a set.
“Oh, Avian’s little friend. How can I help you?”
Putting his actual desire on hold, Mathieu held up the orb. “What is it?”
Fixing the younger man with a look, Grandpa peered at the orb. “Courage. You swallow it and the magic helps you find that trait within yourself.”
“Hm. How much do you want for it?” He asked, looking at it. Perhaps it would be helpful.
The wizen man grunted. “Eh, keep it. No one wants those anymore. So what do you really want?”
Mathieu put the courage into a pocket of his shoulder bag, then sat on the counter and took up a long, thin blade that balanced well in his hand. “You know a lot of things, right? Well, I was wondering if you could tell me about a book.” The blade sung as he gave it a little swing.
“Put that down. What kind of book?”
Sticking his tongue out, Mathieu set the sword down, and fished around in his bag. That was something he liked about the old man; Grandpa never beat around the bush. Mathieu’s fingers brushed over Nikola lovingly before withdrawing his book and holding it out to the man. “I…picked this up from my last house. It’s blank and I don’t know what it is, but it seems like…er, something.”
Grandpa set aside his whet stone and the curved blade. He took the book from Mathieu and flipped it open. The pages were filled to the brim with writing. “It seems pretty full to me.”
His jaw went slack. “What the--”
“Is it not normally like that?”
“No. Normally it’s blank.” Mathieu reached out and took the book in his hand, forcing it to