a number on it. Weakened it. Could be my blood acted as a super vitamin that allowed it to recover more quickly. With all it had given, could I really begrudge it a few pints? It wasn’t as if I could suck the blood back into my body.
Great. My only home freaked me out. Perhaps I’d feel better by the end of the day.
To see if I could get answers, I brought the three old grimoires, the name as ominous as their appearance. Leather-bound in varying hues and supposedly passed down the generations. Perhaps I shouldn’t ignore them so much. Could be the answers were inside the pages. I just had to find a way to read them.
Along with the books, I’d also brought the ring I’d found tucked in Grandma’s dresser. She’d hidden it for some reason, and I wanted to know why. Just like I had to wonder at the symbol drawn on a piece of paper stuffed inside the mattress.
What did it mean? Could be it meant nothing and I had completely lost all of my remaining marbles. If I told people about what I’d seen, how I’d fought, would they sidle slowly away until they could turn tail and run?
Trish would believe me, but I wasn’t ready to tell her what happened. Not until I better understood.
My shop had survived the night. Thank goodness, because I probably would have broken down in the street sobbing if another bad thing happened. I’d fought. I’d won. Give me time to recover.
I hoped to see Brigda installing the other window, but it was Sunday after all, and she’d said Monday. Not to mention the woman deserved some time off. People shouldn’t work seven days a week, and yet look at me. In the shop again. Although, could I really call it working?
I put the box I’d brought from home on the counter and unpacked it. Laying the three books side by side, I placed the sheet of paper with its odd symbol just above them. The box with the ring I set to the side. The other items were more of the knick-knack variety. Porcelain figurines of strange creatures embracing even odder shapes. The house just kept giving.
Which thing should I study first? I had to assume the spell book wouldn’t tell me much about demons. Unless it had a spell to repel them?
A quick flip to the opening page didn’t show a table of contents. I’d have to go through it page by page until I saw something. Time consuming and something I’d do with a coffee later. The next book was the blank one. I never did find a UV light to shine on it. Would Mr. Peterson have any in stock?
The last tome with its restrictive band had yet to show me a way to open it without damage. My curiosity could wait, as I was loath to break it even as I was dying to know what was inside.
My gaze flicked to the sheet of paper and the symbol on it. The style was similar to that found etched in the house. Like the symbols on the now missing box.
How would I explain that to Darryl? So, by the way, some gargoyles stole your box and whatever was inside.
I’d have to pay him something for its loss. The question being, how much?
The ring box beckoned, and I opened it, the ring as strange as I recalled. The stone was dull, the metal tarnished, only rubbing it didn’t bring out a shine. I felt nothing as I held it, which surprised me. I’d have expected something hidden so well to give off a definite vibe. Nada.
It was just an odd piece of jewelry, but on the off chance it meant something, I took pictures of it and uploaded them to the computer. Every single image search came up empty. I found rings that were similar, but none with the same style. Given it didn’t shine like gold or silver, I could only assume it was junk metal. On the off chance someone might want it, I displayed it in the window and placed an “Inquire” tag alongside it.
I had no idea how to price it. So, why not see if it drew any interest and I could make a decision from there.
Returning to the counter, I briefly eyed the entrance to the back. My pottery stuff waited. Had it held up? Could I paint it? If I’d failed, I’d need to dig up more mud. But