Mike looked up at the library doors as they opened. Starcrowe stepped inside, looking a little unsure of himself at first. He caught Mike’s eye and looked down, embarrassed.
“C’mon in, Damon. Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite you.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, coming down the stairs.
Mike waved a cup in his hand. “Tea?”
“Uh, okay.”
Mike went to a kettle that didn’t look like it was sitting on any flame. He poured hot water onto a teabag. “Cream, sugar?”
“A bit of sugar.”
Mike took out his ever-present magic marker, drew something on the white cup and brought it over to Damon, who stood now uncomfortably at the bottom of the stairs. After muttering his thanks, he said, “Scott said he had books for me.”
“Yes, they’re right over there,” he pointed to a pile of books on a table. “The pages are flagged for you. Don’t read the other pages.”
Damon nodded, and went over to the table. He pulled up a chair and sat down, taking down the first book. He opened it to the page. “Dark Spell To Hide In Plain Sight,” it said at the top of the page. He read through the spell, but it seemed strange, using strange words and gestures.
He put that one aside and took down the next one.
Most of the spells had to do with some gestures or actions and a word or two. Only two were spells that hid talismans or items of power from a person’s sight. Many of the spells hid him.
He glanced to see Mike’s back turned to him. He looked down at the book he had, and flipped toward the middle of the book.
“Runes of Summoning Elion.
Elion, demon of slowing, is summoned thus:”
The book slammed shut on his hand, and he thought he could feel needles pricking his hand, both on top and in his palm. “Owwwww!”
Mike was behind him in an instant, and touched the book. It released Damon’s hand, though it was bleeding.
“Looked at a page you shouldn’t have, didn’t you?” Mike took Damon’s hand and examined it. “Good, no venom. It was just giving you a warning.”
“Venom?” Damon repeated.
Mike only smiled. “C’mon, let me wrap that up for you. It’ll heal in an hour or so.”
Damon followed Mike to the other side and glanced at some of the things on the work bench. There were bones, and powder in a mortar, a piece of linen with assorted drawings and runes, circles and triangles on it. Mike wiped off the blood and then wrapped the hand loosely with some linen. He took his marker out and drew on the linen, then wrapped it again. Damon felt a tingle, not unlike if his hand was starting to fall asleep.
“There, you’re better now. Did you find what you’re looking for?”
“I think so,” he said. “I need to practice it.”
Mike took out a piece of blank white paper and a pen off to the side of him. He handed it to Damon, “Write it out first. The connection between your hand and your head is often subconscious, so it might stick better.” He smiled. “And then, we’ll practice.”