They had adjourned upstairs, where June Darjeeling served
Irish Breakfast tea in delicate but mismatching porcelain cups. Bast opted to
have cream instead while Morpheus seemed more interested in the fragile sweeps
of paint decorating his saucer.
“As you can see, Maye is not here,” June said.
“Do you have any idea where she might be?” Alyxa asked,
setting down her cup again.
“Perhaps.”
-What’s that supposed to mean?- Bast demanded.
“It means that she knows where Maye,” Alyxa muttered, “I’ve
read this book. Alright, June, what do you want?”
June smiled a very witchy smile, this one full of teeth and
gums.
“There is a rather rare book in a...special collection,” the
elderly woman said, “I would like it.”
-May one ask after the title?- Bast asked, and Alyxa could
have sworn she was batting her eyelashes.
“‘Sefer Raziel HaMalakh’.”
-The original, I assume.-
“Certainly,” June replied, taking a sip from her tea.
“It’s not,” Morpheus stated suddenly.
“I beg your pardon?” June demanded.
“It’s not the original,” the Dream-Lord replied, “the Arcs
took the original back when the Elder retired to Reveille.”
June’s face was a tableaux of emotions, skipping across her
face like a pebble across a wrinkled pond.
-Weren’t expecting that, were you, crone?-
Alyxa flinched at Bast’s lack of subtlety.
“No, no I wasn’t,” June admitted.
“Is there anything else we might procure for you, my lady?”
Morpheus suggested before either of his companions could stop him.
“A good night’s sleep?”
“Done,” Morpheus said, snapping his fingers.
“I was joki- ” June put in.
-You asked, wish granted, now tell us what you know!-
“Very well,” June murmured, shooting a side-long glance at
Morpheus, “provided I never have nightmares again.”
“One wish I granted, a second requires a second bargain.”
-Tell us what you know.-
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