She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of glass breaking. Oh, no, I hope that wasn’t one of the plates, Miriam thought as she turned off the water and flushed the toilet. I told her not to go too far. She crept to the door and could hear a commotion from the kitchen. When she cracked the door open, she even glimpsed the guard heading into the hall with his newspaper left behind. Whatever Naomi’s distraction had been, there was no use in wasting it. Miriam slipped out of the bathroom and dashed up the stairs as quickly as she could without making too much noise.

Miriam was greeted on the second floor by the largest cat she had ever seen: pure white, with a pronounced snout and pale, yellow eyes. It darted away from her down the hall, toward the north end of the house that sat above the library. Remembering what Naomi had said, she followed on her toes. There’s a saying for this, she thought. About cats and how they end up. Even so, she chased the cat to the end of the hall and through the partially open door on the right.

It was a study, just as Naomi had said. Even more book shelves lined two of the walls, though rather than being novels and tomes, they looked more like photo albums and ledgers. A handsome, mahogany desk stood at the far end of the room, and sitting on top of it, right out in the open, was the book. 

Miriam dashed over to it. She held her breath as she ran her fingertips over the cover, tracing the angelic sigil that adorned it. Her heart pounded as she began to flip hastily through it. Almost immediately some of her enthusiasm waned; the pages didn’t feel as old as they should, and she thought she could smell tea on the leather cover, as if it had been aged artificially. Undoubtedly it wasn’t an original text, but rather some reproduction trying to pass itself off. Even so, it appeared to be written entirely in Hebrew, with a few translations in English scrawled into the margins. She noticed a few glyphs she recognized. Just as she was coming to realize she would have to make a decision about it one way or the other, she flipped to a page with another familiar symbol.

It was the demonic sigil that had been embossed on the door knob of Georgie’s club: the seal of the demon Gremory. Miriam’s attention latched onto the text surrounding it, but rather than being in Hebrew like the rest, the letters were completely foriegn to her. It bore no helpful translations or notes like other sections of the book. 

Gremory and Poiel, Miriam thought, struggling to recall everything she knew about both entities. Something must connect them. She continued to page back and forth through the book and noticed no other sigils she recognized as demonic. If someone was faking this book, why would they slap in just one other demon’s name? Do they not know any better? But this can’t be coincidence, either!

Miriam’s curiosity bubbled, and almost without conscious thought she scooped the book off the desk. After a quick glance to the door she tucked the whole tome into the back of her slacks and drew her coat down over it. He said it’s mine, she told herself, hands shaking and legs itching to run. If it’s for real, I have to have it!

Something brushed her calf, and Miriam yelped before she could stop herself. The white cat she had glimpsed earlier stared up at her curiously. She gulped. “Are you friendly?” she asked. “Because I could really use an alibi right now.”

The cat didn’t react in any way to indicate how it might react, but Miriam could hear footsteps in the foyer below, and she didn’t have much choice. “Hail Bastet, goddess of cats,” she whispered by way of a prayer, and she scooped the huge feline up into her arms. It squirmed at first, but she didn’t get claws or teeth, so she considered herself blessed and headed swiftly out of the study.

She reached the top of the stairs just as the guard was reaching the bottom. He glared up at her, clearly suspicious, but Miriam didn’t break stride as she hefted the cat’s weight and descended. “Sorry,” she said. “It looked like he had something in his mouth. I know how animals can be when they have something they’re not supposed to.”

“She,” the guard corrected her, unconvinced. He held out his arms.

Miriam quickly handed the cat over. “Oh? What’s her name?” When the guard continued to stare back at her with distrust, she cleared her throat. “Nevermind. I think we’ve disturbed the house enough and should probably show ourselves out.”

With her chin held high, Miriam stepped past the guard and beelined towards the front of the house. She could feel the book shifting beneath her coat and began to sweat—would he be able to see it? His footsteps followed her toward the entrance, and the tread of his heavy soles behind the clack of her flats made her want to take off running. She reached the foyer just as Naomi and Abigail emerged from the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh!” said Naomi. “Mi...Mr….?”

“Ms. Yale!” Miriam chirped, and as soon as she got close enough she snagged Naomi’s elbow. “I heard a commotion! I hope everything’s all right?” Without waiting for her to reply, she nodded to Abigail and then guided them toward the exit. “Good! I’m afraid we can’t wait for Mr. Tripepi any longer and must go.”

“Hey, hold on a minute,” said Abigail, following after them. “Where were you just now?”

“Sorry to leave so abruptly, but tell Mr. Tripepi I’ll be in touch,” Miriam rambled on as she twisted the front door open. “Thanks so much for your hospitality.”

“Hey!” Abigail gave chase—she may have even reached for them. Miriam didn’t look back and didn’t know. With one hand still gripping Naomi and the other twisted behind her to keep the book from bouncing free, she hopped down the front steps to the sidewalk and kept going. Her haste could have only made them look more suspicious, but her better instincts had finally kicked in and she couldn’t make her legs stop. Did Abigail have a gun? Would a hardened Boston thug be bold enough to open fire on two fleeing girls in the middle of the street on a Sunday morning? She couldn’t even begin to contemplate what those odds were, and just as she was ready to take off running for real, she felt Naomi yanked back and instinctively turned.

“Now hold on just a minute,” Abigail said crossly, gripping Naomi’s shoulder. Poor Naomi was too startled to look frightened; it made Miriam absolutely sick. “What’s that you’ve got behind your back?”

Miriam’s mind went briefly white before she could recover a decent enough lie. “Uh...a corset!” She took a step back, still trying to tug Naomi along. “All the rage even in men’s fashion down south.”

But Abigail tightened her grip on Naomi’s shoulder as if she were a hostage and gestured with her other hand. “Let me see.”

“No.” Miriam gulped. “I-I don’t have to show you anything. We’re leaving.” 

“Not until I—”

“Is there a problem here?” interrupted a man’s voice.

All three women startled, and Miriam’s pulse hitched even another notch when she felt someone step up behind her. Even though she didn’t recognize the voice she somehow was convinced that it was Joey Tripepi himself; her imagination whirled with a host of gruesome fates that might await them. 

Then she realized that Abigail’s expression had gone slack, while Naomi’s brightened with a hesitant relief. Shivering, Miriam turned to see who it was.

The stranger was, without a doubt, the tallest man Miriam had ever laid eyes on: nearly seven feet tall, she was sure of it, even with his posture slouched. His pale suit was understandably cut too short at his cuffs and ankles, and his hair was pure black against his equally pale skin, straight and glossy as if it were a wig. He looked over the scene calmly, the hard lines of his angular face intimidatingly impassive.

“Elijah!” Naomi exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I was concerned about you,” the tall stranger replied, though it sounded far more like a reprimand than sympathy. He motioned for her to step forward. “Come along, now.”

Naomi obediently did so, and Abigail was just thrown enough by the man’s sudden appearance that she let go. “Now...now hold on a minute,” she said once she’d gathered her wits. “These two were snooping about Mr. Tripepi’s home, and—”

“That’s fine,” interrupted Elijah, taking Naomi’s shoulder once she was close—again in a way that seemed too similar to how Abigail had been holding her hostage only a moment ago. It set Miriam back on edge. He extended his other hand to Abigail, and with a flick of his wrist like a stage magician, he produced a white business card. “Please give my regards to Mr. Tripepi. If anything is misplaced or damaged, he can call me.”

Abigail accepted the card, mystified. She looked up into Elijah’s face and must have found something there she didn’t like, as she gulped and took a step back. “I had better not see you back around here,” she told Miriam and Naomi in an attempt to save face, shaking the card at them. “I’m going to tell him all about this.”

“Go ahead,” Miriam retorted. “He can—” Elijah withdrew his hand only to settle it on her shoulder; she flinched with apprehension. Though it felt as if he were delivering a warning to close her mouth, it gave her the creeps, and she wasn’t about to let anyone who spoke coldly to Naomi get away with that. “He can call me at the university,” she finished. “Jordan Price in antiquities, like I said.”

Abigail glared at her suspiciously, but another glance at the towering Elijah prevented her from saying more. Scowling, she turned in full retreat to head back to the house.

Naomi released a long, elated sigh and turned to look up at their surprise benefactor. “Thank you, Elijah. I’m sorry you had to intervene like that.”

Miriam, on the other hand, didn’t relax. She took a step away from Elijah to shake his grip from her shoulder—and so she could face him without craning her neck all the way back. How could a human be so damn tall? “How did you know we were here?” she asked, probably less kindly than she should have.

Elijah regarded her with an uncomfortable intensity.  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. 

“Oh!” said Naomi, flustered. “That’s right.” She moved closer to Miriam and touched her arm; it was impossible not to find her at least a little reassuring. “This is Miriam Vance,” she introduced. “Miriam, this is...Mr. Elijah Sands. A colleague of mine.” She hesitated for a moment and then clarified, “My superior, actually.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” said Elijah, and though he smiled, the stiffness of his pronounced cheekbones and the muscles around them gave his face an eerie, almost plastic appearance that didn’t help at all.

“Same,” Miriam replied, tempering her obvious mistrust in light of Naomi’s introduction; she didn’t want to get her new friend in trouble with her boss, after everything else. “Um, thank you. For helping out. You probably shouldn’t have given him your card like that, though. He might actually call.”

“I’m not concerned,” said Elijah, and his easy manners certainly corroborated that. He motioned for them to follow him. “Do you need a lift? I’m parked nearby.”

Miriam was tempted to say they would walk to the nearest bus stop, but Naomi was already falling into step behind him, the slight pressure of her hand against Miriam’s arm spurring her along as well. She gulped and followed.  “Yes, thank you. If you can drop us off over at the Common that would be very convenient, assuming it’s not too far out of your way.”

“It’s not.”

Elijah turned to lead them around the nearby corner; as soon as his back was turned, Miriam leaned into Naomi’s ear and whispered, “Is this okay?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi reassured her in kind. “He’s a little, um, eccentric, but he’s a great man.” She moved her hand to Miriam’s back, helping to stabilize the book that was still tucked rather haphazardly into her belt. “We’re safe now.”

“Okay. As long as you trust him…”

They reached Elijah’s car, which was  disappointingly of a very normal size. Miriam eyed it along with its owner and her suspicion was momentarily waylaid by  her curiosity. How in the world will he ever fit in here? she wondered as he opened the rear door for them. She climbed in, and while she was taking a moment to make sure she wasn’t crushing or bending the book, Elijah slid in behind the wheel. She missed seeing the moment in action, and when she did look, he was seated quite comfortably in the driver’s seat. Though the top of his head was closer to the car’s roof than she was used to seeing, he suddenly didn’t appear nearly as tall as he had out on the sidewalk.

Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Miriam wondered as Naomi settled next to her, and the car pulled away from the curb. She shook her head. It doesn’t matter now. I got what I came for.

She reached behind her to feel out the shape of the book beneath her jacket. Even if Naomi trusted the odd Elijah, Miriam didn’t dare reveal her prize to him. But it was hers—she had reclaimed it by her own wits, and as soon as she had privacy, she might finally have what she’d wanted for so long. It made her giddy to think about, and she had a hard time keeping her manners impassive as they made their way back uptown.