Grimoire of the Lamb Read Free

as supreme among the world.”
    So it wasn’t an ordinary cookbook after all. “You told me they were lamb recipes before. What are they really?”
    “They are recipes to alter fate. Six recipes alter your destiny in different ways; seven alter the destinies of your enemies.”
    “Let me guess. The thirteenth recipe slays your enemy.”
    “Correct.”
    Well, I no longer had to wonder why this book was in the restricted section. “Why do all the recipes involve lamb?”
    “None of them involve lamb.”
    That slowed me down. “Lamb is listed as the first ingredient in every recipe.”
    “No. The lamb is supposed to be sacrificed to Amun before you begin the recipe.”
    Gods below! Blood sacrifice to kill your enemies or make yourself rich or whatever definitely classified the grimoire as a book from the dark side. And this guy couldn’t wait to get his hands on it.
    “Where did you hear about this book?” I asked him.
    “I used to work in the Ministry of Antiquities. We discovered some records at the Alexandria site some years ago, and I came across a reference to the work there. It made clear that the book had been removed before Aurelian. Its existence was confirmed in other work Irecently discovered.”
    “How did you find out about the sacrificing of the lambs and everything?”
    “It is described in the writings of Nebwenenef, Egypt’s greatest sorcerer. He is the author of this grimoire.”
    I blinked, then swallowed. In the origin story of Druids that every archdruid taught his apprentices, Nebwenenef was the name of the sorcerer who’d killed the Saharan elemental five thousand years ago. But the grimoire was a first- or second-century work. How did he write it if he’d already been dead for three thousand years? “Where did you find these writings?”
    “Underneath my home.”
    “It was buried?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who else has seen these writings?”
    “No one.”
    That was a small blessing, at least. “Do you know who I am?” I asked. This was a rather important question and not intended as a threat to him in any way. If he knew too much, I’d have to leave the area.
    “You are Atticus O’Sullivan, rare-book dealer.”
    “That’s all you know about me?”
    “You clearly have some magical talent. I am not sure how much or of what kind.”
    Maybe not all was lost, then.
    “How did you discover I might have a copy of this book?”
    “I summoned an imp of the Fourth Circle of Hell. He told me.”
    Well, that would do it. And it also meant I was probably still safe here; the imp would have already traveled back to hell without telling anybody else where or who I was, or this guy wouldn’t be standing in front of me now. “So you dabble in all sorts of black magic, not simply the Egyptian sort?”
    “Yes.”
    “And the imp told you what about me, exactly?”
    “He said you possessed the lost book of Amun and thought it was a cookbook. He said your magic was probably earth-based.”
    Clever imp, leaving out the fact that I was a Druid. “What else did the imp say?”
    “He said you have excellent defenses but cast few offensive spells, if any.”
    That was true enough. When I wished to give offense, I usually gave it with the blade of Fragarach.
    “Hypothetical question. If we were in a galaxy far, far away, would you try to become a Sith lord?”
    “I do not know what that is.”
    “Sith lords can shoot lightning out of their hands, and they cackle maniacally as their enemies turn crispy before their eyes.”
    The Egyptian smiled. “That sounds very good. Yes.”
    I’d heard more than enough. I neatly snatched the grimoire from his fingers and placed a protective hand over it, then dispelled Fragarach’s binding and lowered it.
    “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Elkhashab, but this grimoire is not for sale.”
    His eyes blinked rapidly. “Not for sale? But you told me to come here to negotiate.”
    “Negotiation does not guarantee that you will be able to purchase