I Can Haz Brainz?

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Solo. I just need to get back into the swing of writing before the tournament starts.

"What is it?"

"It's a book, Rebeccah."

"I'm aware of that, Jonas. But that's no ordinary-looking book. What do you suppose it is?"

My two employees were going back and forth like this for quite some time ever since the myserious package arrived on my doorstep early this morning. Rebeccah, in her very air-headed fashion, was fluttering around the counter, trying to examine the volume from every possible angle, afraid to even touch it; Jonah was leaning against the wall, arms crossed defiantly, giving an occasional toss of his acne-encrusted head in order to put his dyed black and red bangs back into place.

I merely stood at the edge of the wooden counter, my hands firmly gripping the corners, staring intently at this... this book that had arrived from an unknown place, hand-delivered by an unknown person. The book itself--while definitely a book by any definition--had an air of malice surrounding it. In between the hard covers that were bound by what appeared to be tanned human skin were several hundred pages whose outsides were colored a dark crimson hue. Dry blood, by my reckoning. The front cover had etchings in it that looked like some long-forgotten language; at least, nothing that I ever recall seeing during my time at the Radasanth Grand Library.

"So what do we do with it? Should we open it and see what's inside?"

"Go ahead, stupid. Why don't you open it? The suspense is killing me."

"Why don't you?! If you're so brave, Mister My-Father-Is-A-World-Famous-Necromancer--"

"Children, please," I cut off Rebeccah and Jacob curtly. "It's just a book. You're not going to catch the plague by thumbing through it."

Jacob glared at me. "You don't know that, Madison. I can sense great evil coming from this book, and I know you can too."

I kept my eyes locked on his as I threw open the book with with an authoritative slam. Nothing happened; spirits didn't fly out and possess us, the walls didn't start to bleed, our faces didn't melt away in a rush of searing light. With a grunt of satisfaction, the three of us began to look at was was written inside. Hastily-penned notes filled every square inch of the yellowed paper; diagrams of various body shapes and sizes were quickly labeled and cross referenced with other drawings on different pages. I had my suspicions when I tried to read the cover, but it was confirmed that this entire book was written in a language that I have never come across. It was too rough to be one of an elven tounge, that much was certain.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Jonas' face lighting up with every flip of a page. That boy never shows emotion; he must've known something about the book. "A copper for your thoughts, Jonas."

The greaseball snapped out of his mood, reverting back to his blank slate state. "Hmm? Oh, nothing."

I narrowed my gaze slightly. "Your eyes never twinkle. Spill it, kid."

He regarded me for a second, and I could read it on his face that he was contemplating the drawbacks of incurring my ire for the third time this week. "This book... How shall I put this..."

"As plain as possible would be wonderful."

The boy bit his lip piercings. "This book is a pretty detailed how-to guide for necromancy. It's written in the tounge of demons from one of the lesser netherrealms." His gaze turned back to the hellish book, and he started to turn its pages absentmindedly. "I recognize the script from reading my dad's collections."

"Well, that's all I need to know." I snatched up the book from him, slammed it shut in his face, and made my way to the back room of my bookstore and up the old wooden staircase leading into my apartment.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

In the apartment above The Janus Street Bookstore, I keep a lot of things. I don't need an entire floor for a living space, so I have one room as a studio apartment with nothing but a bed, a dresser, an oak writing desk that's over a century old, and a padded leather chair. Across the hall is the bathroom. I shouldn't have to describe that; in fact, I won't, as it's been too long since I've cleaned it. But the other two rooms is where I do all my extra-cirricular activities. In one, I have a modest alchemy lab; wooden shelves surround the entire room from floor to ceiling, on them contain glass bottles of varying sizes stuffed with ingredients both common and rare, deadly and explosive. In the middle of that room is my workbench, where all the tools of my new trade lie--burners, utensils, glass apparatuses whose unnecessarily convoluted names excape me at the moment.

I was headed towards the other room; the room on the right at the end of the hall. I fumbled around in my pockets trying to find the key to the old wooden door, giving it a quick turn in the keyhole once I had. With a soft creak, the door opened up into my own personal book collection. The wall closest to me is where my daggers from my days as an assassin hang, ignored and covered in dust. Along the far wall stand three custom-built bookcases, each protected by a locked glass door. Resting on the pricey shelves were all sorts of wonderous volumes--rare alchemy guides, notes penned by infamous sorcerors, and I think I even have a geneology of some Salvar noble's family buried in there somewhere. This necromancer's book--this wretched, evil, flesh-covered book--would fit nicely on the top and a little to the left, until I could figure out who sent it to me, why, and what their game was.

The glass door covering the bookcase clicked softly back into place, and with the turn of another key, I was on my way out. As I walked into the hall, Jonas gave me a slight startle.

"I didn't hear you come up the stairs. You know you shouldn't be up here." I shook my finger at him as I walked past.

"I want to see that book some more."

"No."

"But, Madison, I don't think you understand--"

I spun around on my heels and got within an inch of Jonas' face. I could smell the rankness of his breath. "No, Jonas, I don't think you understand. That book is dangerous; you know it, I know it. It stays locked in that room until I figure out what I'm going to do with it. " To his credit, he didn't flinch. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off before even a breath escaped his lips. "I do not care what's written in that book. I do not care what can be done with the knowledge contained therein. I do not care what you think your father can do to me if you don't get your way. Now march your ass back down to the store right now, and get back to work. I'm expecting a shipment of Bolt Lancaster's latest in the "Songs of Lyrania" series, and I'd appreciate it if you'd make some room on the shelf."

If looks could kill, we'd both be in for life. The two of us stood in silence for ten seconds that felt like ten years. He slowly turned around, offered a mutter of compliance, and sulked his way down the staircase.

I swear, he's going to drive me to drink even more than I already do.