Enchanted, Inc.

Owen then turned to me. "Katie, please take a look at the book on my desk and tell me what you see."



I stood up and moved over to his desk. The book was a giant tome, but it wasn't like the obviously ancient, leather-bound books on the shelves that lined Owen's office. It looked more like a modem hardcover. I closed the cover and found that it was just what I'd thought, only without the paper outer cover books are usually sold with. Then I checked the spine and couldn't hold back a grin.



"It's a Tom Clancy novel, not his latest, but one from a few years back. I gave this one to my dad for Christmas that year." I opened the book again and checked the copyright page. "It's not even a first edition. You could get it used for about five bucks."



"Thank you, Katie." Owen's voice was frosty, and he didn't take his eyes off Wig, who visibly trembled as he cowered in his chair. I suspected my task was complete, but since no one had dismissed me, I sat back in my chair to see what happened next. "That's a very interesting assessment, considering that Mr. Bookbinder here just told me it was one of three remaining copies of a sixteenth-century Welsh codex, worth a lot more than five dollars. Very nice illusion, Wig. You certainly had me fooled. Fortunately, I had Katie here to help."



Owen's voice remained pleasant and conversational, but it was the kind of pleasant that sounds menacing because it's too calm for the situation. I could practically taste Wig's fear, without me having a shred of magical talent. I could also sense the power behind Owen, and now I knew why he was considered such a rising star. It was a little scary, and also rather hot, even though I've never gone for the dangerous kind.



He definitely didn't fit the typical bad-boy mold that usually turns me off, not in those nice suits, though with his coloring I imagined he could work up a good scruffy look just by skipping a day of shaving. Did someone actually have to do bad things to be a bad boy, or was it all about the potential? If it was the potential that counted, then maybe it was the restraint that was so sexy, knowing that he could do something dangerous and powerful but had the restraint not to. If he had that kind of control in that area, then maybe it applied to other areas as well. I squirmed in my seat and hoped to high heaven that mind reading wasn't one of his gifts. If it was, they could put the pair of us on the roof and use our red faces as beacons to warn off approaching aircraft.



Owen shook his head in pity, and it looked like real pity, not the mock pity you show to someone you're about to destroy. "You must be really desperate to take that risk. Surely you knew you'd be found out?"



Wig opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out were gasps and stammers. I couldn't make a single word out of all he said.



"Now, what I find interesting is the fact that you were able to do such a solid, detailed illusion," Owen continued. "That has to mean that you've actually seen a copy of this codex. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to make this up so well.



You wouldn't still happen to have that copy around, would you?"



"Y-Y-Yes. I-I-I do."



Owen smiled. "I thought so. Otherwise, you wouldn't have risked offering it to me.



You know how much I need it, and you know I've been looking everywhere for it.



You must have thought you could sell this illusion to me, then when the spell wore off, I'd be so eager to get my hands on the real book that I'd pay extra to get it. But thanks to Katie, we can skip that part. Give me the real book, Wiggram." There was a hard edge to his last sentence that scared me, and I wasn't the one he was mad at.



Wiggram bent to the bulky canvas satchel at his feet and pulled out a book that was roughly the size and shape of the Tom Clancy book, but otherwise bore no resemblance. The cover was dark leather, worn smooth with the years, and the title was embossed in gold on the cover. I couldn't read the lettering, for it was in a language I'd never seen before. He laid the book down on Owen's desk, and Owen opened it and flipped through it, a look of awe on his face.



The pages of this book were thick and uneven. It was obviously not a book made in mass quantities on a machine. It looked like it had been made by hand. Even the lettering looked like it was written by hand. The room already had a faint scent of old books, but this one had a stronger, older scent to it.



"I think it's the real deal," I said to Owen softly, so I didn't interrupt his inspection.



"It's obviously old, the cover is leather, and the pages are handwritten on uneven paper. I don't know if it's what you're looking for, but it's not a Tom Clancy novel."