Grimoire Chapter I_(1)

Brady Thompson parked his car on the street outside “Bowman’s Rare and Used Books” and walked in. The proprietor, Mr. Bowman, absently read the newspaper as Brady walked through the door. As he approached the counter, Mr. Bowman lowered the page and peered at Brady over his glasses, which had slid down his nose.

“Ah, Brady. Good to see you. I was hoping you’d come in.” Mr. Bowman turned away from Brady and inspected the bookshelf behind him, where he kept much of his personal inventory. He scratched his head, scanning the shelves. “Aha!” he exclaimed, grabbing an old, worn book with brown binding. He handed it to Brady. As Brady opened it and leafed through the pages, Mr. Bowman explained: “I got it last week at an estate sale. Old widow, her husband died years ago. Had some mid-19th century American first editions. Some European books from the 17th century. A find, really. But that one there, it isn’t a published book. The name on the inside front cover doesn’t turn up any results on the internet – at least not anything that corresponds to the date entries in there. A journal of some kind. Science, maybe? There’s symbols I don’t recognize. And it’s all written in”

“Latin,” Brady said, interrupting Mr. Bowman.

“Right,” Mr. Bowman answered him, a playful, fatherly look of annoyance on his face. “Which is why I wanted to give it to you. After all, you nearly have your PhD in Latin, and you love rare books. How much more rare can a scientific journal by an unknown author, written in Latin be?”

“How much do you want for this, Mr. Bowman?” Brady asked, unusually quiet.

Mr. Bowman dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “Nothing. As unique as it is, I can’t sell it. It’s yours.”

“Great. Thanks.” Brady said, not looking up from the book.

Moments passed. Mr. Bowman spoke to Brady, but he didn’t respond. “Brady? Brady!” Brady startled back into coherence. “Is that all, Brady? Anything else?”

“No. Sorry. Nothing else. Just the journal. See you…later.” Brady walked out of the store. Mr. Bowman rolled his eyes and picked up his paper.

– – – – –

When he arrived home, Brady sat down at his desk and opened the book and re-read the name: Jacobus Madia Villa, filius.