him?”
“Adam Whitby and no, he’s not here. According to his assistant, he’s on holiday for two weeks.”
The whole damned world was conspiring against me. “Where’s his office?”
Ezra’s eyebrows rose. “Office? He doesn’t have a private office, Mr. Nash. We will have to search the most likely places he would have left it.”
“What if he passed it on to someone else?”
“Well, then….” Ezra considered. “It may take a while to find it.”
“Can you spell that out in hours?”
“More likely days, I would think.”
“Son of a—”
“Mr. Nash,” Ezra said in soft warning and dragged me to a spot shielded by a row of shelves. “You must keep your voice down. You’re going to get us both thrown out and then we will never find it.”
“Days,” I repeated in disbelief. “Why days? What is so damned hard about finding one book? Whitby’s about to leave on vacation, he’s heading for the door, and the boss shoves a book in his hands and tells him to take care of it. What’s he going to do with it? Drop it on the nearest desk and keep going.”
Ezra appeared to be fighting back a smile. He almost made it. “I don’t believe he would be quite so careless. Not if he wishes to remain employed here. They’ve become quite strict about keeping track of donations. He would have taken it back to the print books department or given it into the care of another cataloguer. Henry will find that out. I’m just trying to make certain it hasn’t been shelved already and you, Mr. Nash, are impeding my progress.”
“You can’t just focus all your psychic energy on it and levitate it off the shelf?”
He said placidly as he moved past me, “I really think we might have been better off if we had summoned a demon.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Following him back to the catalogue, I watched as he began to flip through cards again with dexterous speed. It took me a minute to catch on that he was searching his way through an inordinately large number of cards. “Aren’t they alphabetical?”
He gave an acknowledging grunt as he moved to another row of cards. I dogged him, making an effort to keep my voice low. “So why are you looking through all of them? Doesn’t Whitby know his ABCs?”
Ezra blew out a breath. “Because….” He stole a sidelong look at me and I saw his reluctance to answer. “Neither Henry nor I can remember the title of the book. Or the author,” he added before I could ask.
“Oh, come on. You’re the Latin expert, right? You didn’t look at the title when you started showing off for the guys?”
“Mr. Nash, I am sorry—”
“No, of course you didn’t.” I leaned my elbows on the gleaming wood surface in front of me and pressed my face into my hands. “Why would you? You were just playing around. You weren’t actually planning on ruining someone’s life.” I punctuated the last with a glare in his direction.
He sighed. “No need to lose your temper. There are a good many arcane manuscripts here, grimoires and the like, but I feel confident I will recognize it when I see it.”
I was screwed. “Okay. Look, I agree with you that he probably hasn’t shelved it. He must have dumped it somewhere, so that’s where we should be looking first. Who’s his closest pal here? Or better yet, the guy he usually sticks with the stuff he doesn’t feel like messing with?”
Ezra stared at me dazedly. “It’s something of a challenge just understanding you.”
Just what I didn’t need right now, a language barrier in my own damned language. I took his arm. “I’m going home today. One way or another, we’re going to find that book and you guys are sending me home. Are we clear on that?”
If I hoped for a bit of acquiescing, cowering fear, all I got was the slight curve of a lip and a curious sparkle in the blue eyes. He patted the hand I’d wrapped around
“Adam Whitby and no, he’s not here. According to his assistant, he’s on holiday for two weeks.”
The whole damned world was conspiring against me. “Where’s his office?”
Ezra’s eyebrows rose. “Office? He doesn’t have a private office, Mr. Nash. We will have to search the most likely places he would have left it.”
“What if he passed it on to someone else?”
“Well, then….” Ezra considered. “It may take a while to find it.”
“Can you spell that out in hours?”
“More likely days, I would think.”
“Son of a—”
“Mr. Nash,” Ezra said in soft warning and dragged me to a spot shielded by a row of shelves. “You must keep your voice down. You’re going to get us both thrown out and then we will never find it.”
“Days,” I repeated in disbelief. “Why days? What is so damned hard about finding one book? Whitby’s about to leave on vacation, he’s heading for the door, and the boss shoves a book in his hands and tells him to take care of it. What’s he going to do with it? Drop it on the nearest desk and keep going.”
Ezra appeared to be fighting back a smile. He almost made it. “I don’t believe he would be quite so careless. Not if he wishes to remain employed here. They’ve become quite strict about keeping track of donations. He would have taken it back to the print books department or given it into the care of another cataloguer. Henry will find that out. I’m just trying to make certain it hasn’t been shelved already and you, Mr. Nash, are impeding my progress.”
“You can’t just focus all your psychic energy on it and levitate it off the shelf?”
He said placidly as he moved past me, “I really think we might have been better off if we had summoned a demon.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Following him back to the catalogue, I watched as he began to flip through cards again with dexterous speed. It took me a minute to catch on that he was searching his way through an inordinately large number of cards. “Aren’t they alphabetical?”
He gave an acknowledging grunt as he moved to another row of cards. I dogged him, making an effort to keep my voice low. “So why are you looking through all of them? Doesn’t Whitby know his ABCs?”
Ezra blew out a breath. “Because….” He stole a sidelong look at me and I saw his reluctance to answer. “Neither Henry nor I can remember the title of the book. Or the author,” he added before I could ask.
“Oh, come on. You’re the Latin expert, right? You didn’t look at the title when you started showing off for the guys?”
“Mr. Nash, I am sorry—”
“No, of course you didn’t.” I leaned my elbows on the gleaming wood surface in front of me and pressed my face into my hands. “Why would you? You were just playing around. You weren’t actually planning on ruining someone’s life.” I punctuated the last with a glare in his direction.
He sighed. “No need to lose your temper. There are a good many arcane manuscripts here, grimoires and the like, but I feel confident I will recognize it when I see it.”
I was screwed. “Okay. Look, I agree with you that he probably hasn’t shelved it. He must have dumped it somewhere, so that’s where we should be looking first. Who’s his closest pal here? Or better yet, the guy he usually sticks with the stuff he doesn’t feel like messing with?”
Ezra stared at me dazedly. “It’s something of a challenge just understanding you.”
Just what I didn’t need right now, a language barrier in my own damned language. I took his arm. “I’m going home today. One way or another, we’re going to find that book and you guys are sending me home. Are we clear on that?”
If I hoped for a bit of acquiescing, cowering fear, all I got was the slight curve of a lip and a curious sparkle in the blue eyes. He patted the hand I’d wrapped around
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