“I meant to call you hours ago, but I had to get second and third opinions on our Potion Page,” she said. “I had to give it a name. Librarians. We’re compelled to categorize things.”
Nora walked over to the front door and looked out. “Please, Bobbie. It’s rained all day, I’m expecting people to protest my shop tomorrow, and Jed refuses to speak to me. Skip the dramatic reveal and tell me what you learned.”
“Okay, but what I’m about to say will make things clear as mud.” When Nora groaned, Bobbie said, “Chin up, buttercup. We’ll get there. Anyway, here’s what we know. The paper is old. Circa 1700s. It’s laid paper, which—”
“Laid paper?” Nora interrupted. “It’s been a few years since grad school. Can you refresh my memory?”
Bobbie said, “Laid paper was used in the 1500s and 1600s until about 1750. It was made on a mesh with wires. When you hold a piece up to the light, you can see a grid pattern. The Potion Page has that pattern. My friend is an expert in paper forensics, and he says the paper is legit. But the ink isn’t.”
“Why not?”
“The chemical composition is off. It’s a carbon ink with a charcoal base, which is kosher, as is its dark-brown color. But the charcoal should be suspended in glue, gum, or varnish. My friend thinks that part of the mix is off, so he sent the page to his friend, who has access to Columbia’s radiocarbon dating machine. The results confirmed that the paper is legit, but the ink isn’t.”
“Whoa.”
There was a pause before Bobbie said, “We’re talking forgery here. Someone made a near-perfect eighteenth-century grimoire page. The paper looks and feels right. The ink is close. The forger did their homework. Without an expert’s examination or access to scientific dating, plenty of people would think it was the real deal.”
Nora didn’t need to ask who these people were because she already knew. Collectors. Of rare books. Of rare occult materials.
“Do you think the writing was copied from a real book of spells? Or is it pure nonsense?”
“I don’t know. We’ve seen robed figures in other books from the same time period. The clothes and the drawing style are similar to recipes found in herbals. But the symbols? They could be an invented language meant to seduce collectors into believing in a newly discovered form of magic. A code waiting to be broken. Whoever breaks the code becomes powerful. Has all their wishes granted. It sounds ridiculous until you see what people have paid for other indecipherable spell books.”
After mulling this over, Nora said, “The forger can’t send the page to Sotheby’s. It has to be sold on the black market. There must be an online forum or marketplace where something like this can be offered for sale.”
“I asked one of our professors the same thing, and she sent me a link to a forum called Solomon’s Alley. It’s named after a medieval grimoire. I’ve already created a fake account and posted a photo and some tantalizing details about the Potion Page. If someone contacts me about the page, we might get a lead on our forger’s identity.”
Nora was amazed by how much Bobbie had accomplished. “You’ve gone above and beyond. Thank you.”
“I’ve done all I can, but you haven’t. I know I’m being blunt, but isn’t it time to confront Celeste? The symbols were tattooed on her daughter’s neck. What did they mean? What’s the deal with Still Waters? Are they a community of reclusive artists or sketchy forgers? If you want to know what happened to Bren, you have to push Celeste for answers.”
Nora glanced through the rain-splattered glass. The sidewalks were empty, and the streets were mostly deserted.
“I’ll see her in a few hours. My friends will be there too, so I’m not sure how much interrogating I’ll get in.”
“Just use those keen powers of observation that served you so well in school. I bet you’ll spot some detail—a knickknack or a photo—and a light bulb will go off.”
Thunder roared so loudly that the windows shook.
“What the hell was that?” Bobbie asked.
“Just a noisy storm. It should be gone by tomorrow.”
“I hope lots of things are cleared up by tomorrow. The weather, the protest, your love life, the mystery involving the Potion Page.”
Nora promised to give Bobbie regular updates and ended the call. She then closed the shop an hour early and went home.
After a shower, Nora warmed Dominique’s cheese enchiladas in the oven while she cooked a pot of lentils with garlic and olive oil. When the beans were ready, she transferred them to a casserole dish and garnished them with chopped tomatoes and cilantro. With both dishes snugly packed in a cardboard box, she stepped out into the damp night.