Old Volumes

Collinsport. As the long night continues in Collinsport, Nicole Collins and Esther Friedman have found someone they believe will help them with the translation of the Journal of David ben Golde. Hallie Stokes, the niece of Professor Stokes, recently returned to Collinsport, has agreed to help translate the journal’s Norwegian entries. And so, Nicole Collins having returned to Collins Investigations, to await Hallie Stokes’ arrival, will soon be visited by two visitors who will bring with them some very disturbing news.

The rainfall had subsided into a light mist. A mist which appeared as if a fog, a foggy halo glowing about the streetlights as Nicole Collins and Esther Friedman made their way along the nearly deserted streets of Collinsport back to the law offices that is Collins Investigations. But it was all merely an illusion. The wipers of the windscreen continued to give testimony to the rain.

Whether her black Ferrari had been spacious and comfortable enough for three, Nikki was certain that Hallie Stokes would have still insisted on taking her rental car rather than riding with them. In fact, huddled in the parking lot against the rain, she had expressed a desired to make a stop at the great house of Collinwood before joining them. She had a phone call to make, she said. Also, she wanted to inform David where she was so that he would not worry.

Esther commented that there were phones back at their offices – and that she in fact had a cell phone in her pocket.

But Professor Stokes could not be dissuaded, and so she got into her Ford Tarsus and drove away.

It was half-past ten when Nikki entered the offices of Collins Investigations and as usual did not turn on the lights. Esther reaches for the switch and clicks them on, “Nik, are you sure about this Miss Stokes?”

“I feel that we can trust her, yes.” Nikki says as she takes note that Samantha Brook has not returned. “I wonder where Samantha has gone. And why?”

“No doubt doing Sam things – whatever they are.” Esther replies.

Rather than heading over to her desk, which was strategically placed in the center of the main reception office, Esther strides quickly back to the office opposite Nikki’s and once again began looking at several sheets of translation. She tosses them lightly down and takes up the Journal, turning some pages before stopping to look at an entry: “klo-Kloste-ret Klosteret? What?” She says.

A shoulder leaning against the threshold of the door of the office, Nikki, idly watching Esther, cannot entirely put aside a feeling of unease. Samantha was more than well aware of just how important the translation of the journal was – and so Nikki was concerned not only about her leaving, but more importantly, her failure to return.

But at that moment the front door of Collins Investigations opened and a pale woman, with dark red-hair and a pair of odd, sunglasses with dark-lenses, carrying a patterned shoulder bag, enters, “Hello?” She says looking at the tall, blonde turning now from the doorway of the office.

Esther, turning also, from the desk, looks outside the door, past Nikki, and says “Hello.” She cuts a quick glance at her watch, “Can I help you? It is rather late.”

Lilly Nota stood looking at the blonde with interest.

Esther sighs heavily as she steps away from the desk, and moving past Nikki, enters into the main office. “Yes—what can we do for you?”

With a warm smile Lilly Nota takes a step forward, “Hello, my name is Lily Nota, I just arrived in Collinsport. Is there a Nikki Collins here?”

“Yeah. Why?” Esther says now rather cautiously.

Nikki continues to scrutinize the woman. There was something – she took her own step forward and then smiles as yes, she can feel it . . . there was something. “I am Nicole Collins, how may I help you?”

Lilly Nota moves forward into the main office, struck by the blue eyes and the British accent, and offers her hand, “Madame Collins I am a reporter from Arkham Gazette. I am looking for an old and rare book. And I heard you might be able to help me.”

“I see.” Nikki says taking the proffered hand and shakes it, feeling the strength of the woman’s slender hand, “An old book—” Nikki’s lips curl back at the corner of her mouth in a rather knowing smile, her intuition having been confirmed by the hand shake. “I know quite a few. Perhaps we should go into my office, and you can tell me precisely what it is you are looking for.” And then she gave her a rather shrewd look, “And you can tell me from where you have heard I may be of assistance in such matters.’

Lilly smiles back intrigued by this Nicole Collins, “Thank you Madame.”

Nikki turns to Esther, “Esther please let me know when Hallie arrives.’

Esther sighs and pulls a cigarette out of it’s battered package – aware that something was up, as she knew the look Nikki had given her—which said be careful, anything can happen, “Sure thing Nik.”

“This way,” Nikki says and then she turns to saunter, to almost glide across the main lobby, over toward her office, whereupon opening the door, she stood back to allow the dark, red-haired Lilly Nota to enter.

Lilly looks at the old heavy desk, the antique rotary phone—unaware that they even still worked. The chairs and wooden file cabinet were also rather old, not quite antique, but maybe, she surmised that perhaps they were part of the original law offices that Collins Investigations once been – owing of course to the lettering that remained upon the storefront windows. She took notice of the painting on the wall, “The Nightwatch,” and for a moment was uncertain if it was a really a reproduction.

Nikki closes her office door and then walks around her desk and motions with her hand, “Oh, please Miss Nota, do have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

Nikki’s long, slender fingers pull her chair back from her desk, “Arkham Gazette?” She says as she slips leisurely into her chair, “I think I have read some of your stories.”

“Really?”

“The latest regarding the incident involving some young ladies attempting to form some sort-of Miskatonic Coven.”

Lilly nods, “Yes.”

“A fascinating story.” Nikki has a seat.

“Thank you.”

“Now, this book, the one you are interested in. Does it have a title?”

Once again Lilly says, “Yes.”

Nikki places a hand atop her desk, looking at the dark, redhead, waiting for her to continue.

Lilly smiles, “It is The Relics of the Anti-Saints, by Jules Allard.”

Esther snaps her Zippo closed and exhales a long plume of blue-grey smoke as she turns and looks now at the bookcase across the room filled with the odd, old volumes, and for a moment she stands wondering just which of them was filled with evil, not at all uncertain that they all might not might be, “Are we a library too now?”

She throws up her hands.

Lilly Nota tries to suppress a snicker.

Nikki is silent for a long moment. She sits looking across the distance of her desk at Lilly Nota. Her blue eyes growing a much darker shade, as she contemplates the woman, the book that she says she is seeking. “The Relics of the Anti-Saints? Now that is quite an interesting old book.” She finally says, very much aware that Lilly has also heard Esther’s remark – the slight snicker not at all completely concealed.

Each of them looks at each other, both aware of the other. Nikki sits back in her chair now. “Quite an interesting volume indeed. Now, Miss Nota, why would you be interested in such – a obscure and rather horrid old book?”

“I am writing a story, and I need the book to in order to finish it.”

Nikki raises an eyebrow and then rather languidly reaches down and opens the bottom drawer of her desk. “My understanding is that there are only three known copies of The Relics of the Anti-Saints, in existence.”

“That is what I have heard also.” Lilly nods. “The version I am looking for is the original, by Allard, written 1834.”

The label of the old wine bottle Nikki removes from the bottom drawer, which she had earlier taken from the refrigerator into order to allow it to warm, indicates that is a Romanian wine. “I see. And why would you think there would be a copy here in Collinsport?”

Outside, in the main office, the door of Collins Investigations opens, and a tall, thin man enters. He is wearing a brown, rumbled suit with a canvas messenger bag draped over one shoulder and pushed back so as to ride slightly upon his hip. He smiled. A warm, pleasant smile as he reaches into his jacket pocket and feels the comfort of the crumbled pack of unfiltered cigarettes; but he decides not to light one.

Esther turns to look at the man entering, “Excuse me? Can I help you?”

He looks across the room at the woman standing behind the c=slightly cluttered desk, “I am looking for a Nicole Collins. The window says this is a Law Office but I am told this is Collins Investigations instead.”
Lilly eyes the wine bottle, “I was told that there was a copy here.”

“Interesting.” Nikki replies slowly with deliberation.

“Yes. This is her office, but I’m afraid she’s meeting with someone right now, someone who also chooses this ungodly of hours to visit. “ Esther tells him, waiting to get back to the matter at hand – the journal of David be Golde. “So—what do you need to speak with her about?”

Nikki reaches into the open bottom drawer and removes two crystal flutes and places them on the desk. She opens the bottle.

Lilly immediately savors the heady scent of blood.

“Care for a drink Lilly?” Nikki asks with a knowing smile as she pours the thick red liquid into one of the glasses.

Lilly lowers her glasses on her nose. She stands and steps over to the edge of the desk and picks up the flute. She lifts the crystal glass and wafts it under her nose, “Human?”

Nikki’s blue eyes grew a shade brighter, “Imported.”

Lilly smiles.

“Sorry, but I could not help sensing you and I share – similar tastes. It’s a talent I picked up from my mother.”

“And this?” Lilly asks with a motion of her glass toward the bottle.

“Also, a gift from my mother – she has an importer. There are those who sell their blood, the European economy being what it is these days. There are ever so many markets that are black.” Nikki replies as she re-corks the mislabeled wine bottle and puts it away, closing the lower desk drawer.

Lilly Nota grins showing her fangs, “I see.” She takes off her sunglasses and puts them in her shoulder bag, no longer concern should the red hint appear in her dark eyes. She holds the glass up as a toast, “Thank you, I have had a long train ride.”

“Sir?” Esther now demands of the man, who has stepped across the room to stand before Nikki’s bookcase, his head cocked to one side as he scans the titles of the books.

“So, now Lilly – this book.” Nikki’s long, slender fingers reach out to lift her glass of blood “For what reason are you really looking for it?”

“As I said research.”

Nikki smiles, “Then, I would think you would know a bit more about it if that were so.”

Lilly Nota looks curiously at Nicole Collins sitting behind her desk, “What do you mean?”

“You said you were looking for the original version. There is only but one version of it, Lilly.” Nikki explains.

Meanwhile, Esther continues to stare at the enigmatic man, who turns now to look at her. They stare at each other for a long moment, in total silence, as if frozen in time. Esther’s suspicions arise even more based on the man’s smile, which seems pleasant enough – only as a hunter, she sees something at the corners that tells her when you are not looking it can quickly turn into the malevolent smile of a wolf.

“A very interested and knowledgeable friend of mine informed me that the book had been stolen, and I hope to somehow find and return it.” Lilly Nota confides.

“Stolen? So, you’re an agent for the owner?” Nikki asks.

“Yes.” Lilly Nota sips her glass of blood.

Nikki nods, well aware that her answer is a lie. She knows one copy is supposed to be in Paris and who the other two owners are rumored to be – and none of them would have hired Lilly Nota to recover their lost tome. They have their own agents whom they would have unleashed.

“I had an appointment with Miss Collins some days back,” The gentleman begins, his voice giving away the hint of New York. “My name is Corso. Dean Corso. I am a dealer in rare books. I think if you were to let Miss Collins know . . . that I am here, she will want to see me.”

Lilly’s ears twitch upon hearing the man’s name. Nikki looks up for a moment and then looks back at her – the dark red-haired woman is a curiosity . . . and it appears she knows Corso. She knows a lot to know so little.

Nikki puts her glass down, and leans forward, “Stolen? Who—who told you that? Who sent you Lilly?”

“I see.” Esther says closing the journal and places it on her desk, completely failing to hide it under a piece of paper. “Well, Mr. Corso, why don’t you have a seat . . . I’m sure she’ll be ready for more book dealing in a few minutes.”

“More book dealing?’ He asks with a frown.

“I am sure you can understand, but for now that information is . . . shall we say confidential, you know, a reporter’s sources.” Lilly tells her as she turns to return to her seat and smiles, “Just like your clients are privileged.” She sits once again, “But let’s just say a Professor asked me personally to find it.”

His hand once again reaches into his pocket to find the crumbled pack of cigarettes, which this time he removes and shows to Esther, “May I have a smoke?”

“Be my guest.” She tells him, tapping ashes from her own cigarette into her ashtray. She then picks up her cell phone, and while keeping a watch on this Corso, she quickly taps out a text message, which she sends to Nik.

Nikki sits back, “A professor? Arkham? You are from Arkham, so, it is someone from the Miskatonic?”

Nikki’s phone vibrates and she looks over to see Esther’s message.

A certain Dean Corso is here. Another book person. You know him?

Nikki’s slender fingers seem to rather languidly type a reply: Timely. Send him in.

Hands forming a temple, Lilly Nota looks at Nikki with interest, “Perhaps.”

Nikki’s azure eyes darken as she is aware that things are about to become far more interesting,

The reply appearing on her screen, Esther sighs, “Corso. She will see you.”

He smiles mischievously, “As I thought she would.” He strikes the match; sparks snapping from the red tip and then a flame bursts as he lights the unfiltered Chesterfield.

Esther, cautiously watching the man as he strikes the match he had torn from the book of matches he had removed from his jacket pocket, walks over to Nikki’s closed office door.

He shakes the flame out and drops the match into Esther’s ashtray. He follows Esther at a discrete distance.

She knocks.

“Yes, Esther,” Nikki says from within.

“Dean Corso, Nik.” Esther says opening the door and looking at Nikki, before cutting a quick glance at the red head. She sees the woman also drinking a glass of the thick, red liquid and she rolls her eyes at Nikki as if to say, really? She then nods her head toward the man behind her who is shifting the messenger bag on his shoulder and removing the cigarette from his lips.

“Dean.” Nikki says.

Esther raises and eyebrow.

Nikki smiles at him.

As always his suit looked as if he had slept in it, and he very well might have. As a book mercenary, hired to hunt down books for a select clientele, he had to be ever weary. A liar, a cheat, and a thief: he had made a lot of enemies, in Milan, Paris, London, Barcelona, Moscow, Berlin, and Lausanne. And yet, there was no one better. Not even Peter Cairo had his reputation – of having gone into hell itself to steal a book.

Corso steps casually past Esther and enters. Everything in the office is an antique—even the phone. Her obsession with her father, no doubt. He smiles warmly as he looks across the desk at Nikki. He takes note of the flute – the crimson liquid. “Nicole.”

“Do please have a seat.” She smiles, “I am just in luck tonight. I have someone in search of a book and now I have a rare book dealer.”

Esther closes the door and heads back to her desk wanting to get back to the journal she had furtively tried to hide from Corso, but, she has only gone a few steps before her cell phone vibrates in her hand.

A text message; she looks down:

You might want to join us, this is going get interesting.

Nikki places her phone back atop the desk, “You were supposed to have met with me—what was it now, four days ago?”

“Five.” He agrees.

Lilly Nota smiles sweetly to the man seated next to her holding out her hand. “Lily Nota, a pleasure to meet you.”

Esther steps over to her desk and crushes her cigarette out into the ashtray, walks over and locks the front doors, and then crosses the main office back over to Nikki’s door.

“A pleasure,” He nods and takes Lilly’s hand, shaking it. “Miss Nota.”

Esther opens the door and enters to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“But—I must tell you, I am very well aware of whom you are acting for.”

Lilly looks at him now with renewed interest.

He takes a long drag off his unfiltered cigarette as he squints against the smoke, “It has been a while, Nicole.”

“Yes, it has.”

“Not since I acquired Curwin’s De Vermis Mysteriis with his marginalia from the Russian.”

“Yes,” She nods remembering the clandestine meeting at the Snipe and Shaft, the heavy, evil volume wrapped in common, brown butcher paper, quite appropriately so, she thought at the time as he pushed the package toward her.

“Seeing as how you have two copies, if you interested in putting one up, I know someone who might be interested. Although it is a rather unexceptional edition.” He sits with his usual relaxed contemptuousness

Nikki looks at him with a knowing smile, “Let’s not pretend we don’t know why you are here Dean. You’re selling not buying.”

“Books I suppose . . . “ Esther mutters under her breath as she leans against the doorframe – and it seems like old times. It’s been quite a while since a group of people had gathered in Nik’s office, all of them of course lying and deceiving one another. She should be standing over at her usual spot, leaning against the wall – only she did not trust either the book dealer or the red-haired woman.

“Are you acting as an agent for Miss Nota, Nicole?” He asks looking at Nikki and not at the redhead.

“I am not acting on anyone’s behalf.” Nikki tells him sitting back comfortably in her chair, “Unless it would be myself.”

“Mr. Corso,” Lilly speaks up, “You are correct, I am looking for a book . . . one by the author Jules Allard.”

He smiles, “Yes, I know.”

“You know?” she raises an eyebrow.

He looks at Nicole Collins, ”Has she told you for whom she is working? Who has sent her in search of ‘The Relics.’”

Nikki is more than well aware of the look in his eyes, and her own now darken, “No – she has not.”

“Someone you know quite well.” He tells her.

Her fingers at the top of her glass, Nikki sits and once again contemplates Lilly Nota – her sudden arrival, her interest in The Relics of the Anti-Saints. Her taste for blood. And then, the appearance of Dean Corso – all upon the same night. Coincidence? No – she does not think so. In fact she more than suspected now precisely what it was that Corso was truly about.

“I have dodged his henchman for several days, and now he seeks to use a very beautiful woman”

“One of your weakness.” Nikki cuts an acute glance at Corso.

He smiles.

Lilly Nota almost laughs, “I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered Mr. Corso.”

“Oh, I would be flattered.” He tells her, as he leans forward and moves the ashtray on Nikki’s desk closer, and then flicks ashes into it. “And I would be very cautious.”

“Who sent you Lilly?” Nikki asks.

The lovely redhead bites her lower lip and looks into the warm red liquid in her glass, “As I said, he is a source and even he were not, he would be rather angry with me I’m sure.”

“Oh, I would not be concerned about that, my dear. Either way, he does not expect you to survive long after you were to hand it over. Should you,” He looks at her cautiously, “be unusually lucky to have obtained it.”

Lilly looked at the man – there must be more to this book dealer.

“Lilly—who are you working for?’ Nikki asks again.

The woman sits silent for a long moment looking at Nicole Collins, weighing her options.

Esther stops leaning against the door and stands in the threshold, “Okay, someone. Just who the hell is this damned person? I frankly don’t give a damn if he blows up your house. It’s late, and we have enough s*** on our plate as it is without you playing around with us. So tell us or get the h**l out.”

Nikki turns from Lilly to look at Corso, “So, who the bloody hell is it?”

“Victor.” Lilly says softly.

He leans forward to flick ashes into the ashtray on the edge of Nikki’s desk, waiting to see the expression on her face, “Count Petofi.”

“Victor Fenn-Gibbon.” Only she sees a fury now in Nicole Collins’ eyes as Corso says a name she is unaware of . . .

And Nicole Collins suddenly rises so quickly that her chair flies back against the wall and she stands with the tips of her fingers atop her desk as she leans forward, “Petofi.” She fairly spits the name out.

“Count who?” Lilly asks now perplexed.

“He is alive?”

“Dear god . . . “ Esther says in shock.

“Oh yes, very much so.” Corso replies the words escaping his mouth in curls of smoke, “You did not think you had killed him—did you?”

Nikki stands behind her desk and absently runs her fingers back through her hair, “The bastard is still alive.” She says aloud, to herself.

Esther suddenly regains her composure and looks over at the reporter, “No . . . of course not . . . why would you say that? Of course, we did not try to kill anyone. That’s a totally absurd . . . idea.“

Lips curling now into smile, he looks at Nikki. “Yes, I understand. But, I mean if you had thought about doing such a thing—Miss Friedman. I would not be too surprised, seeing as how he happens to be one that has been killed several times before.”

Nikki’s blue eyes have darkened and narrowed as she looks at Lilly, “Victor? Did he tell you he was Victor Fenn-Gibbon?”

“Yes”

“He has not used that name since 1897.” Nikki says with a voice grown cold.

Corso takes a long drag from his cigarette, “He is looking for the Relics of the Anti-Saints.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “Who knows what he is ever up to? I try to have as little dealings with him as possible—the man clearly can not be trusted.”

“So he did not commission you to find The Relics?”

“No.”

“But you have it?” Nikki looks at him intently.

“Yes he does,” Lilly says, “He stole it.”

“Procured.” He corrects her as he stubs the Chesterfield out and pushes the ashtray back on the desk.

“Whom for?”

“Nicole.” He replies as if to say he never divulges his clients.

“Dean, it is imperative that I know.” Her eyes now having gone arctic.

“I never reveal the name of a client, you now know that. But, seeing as it is you, Nicole, I can say it is a minister.”

“A minister?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you are here—rather than with your client.”

The wolf’s grin now appears, “Yes. You see he sent Aristede. And I don’t want to get in between whatever is going on – and make no mistake, there is something most definitely going on . . . and so . . . I am more than willing to make a deal with a third party, so to speak.”

“What do you want for it?”

He sits back, “Let’s say, for you – for old times sake, and for tonight only, 50.”

“Done.” Nikki replies.

“The transaction has to be done quickly. Tonight.”

She nods, “Of course,”

“So, to confirm, we are agreed on the price, 50.”

“Fifty thousand? Yes.” She tells him reaching out for the back of her chair pulls it back toward her desk, “I assume, the same account as before.”

He shakes his head and reaches into his pocket and removes a folded piece of paper and passes it over to Nikki, who leans across the desk to take it.

Lilly Nota watches them, uncertain now of this turn of events.

Ester watches as Nikki unfolds the paper and reads it.

“You have it?” He asks.

“Yes,” Nikki replies and passes the paper back. He reaches into the pocket of his rumbled jacket and removes the book of matches, opens them and tears one free. He strikes it and burns the paper. He drops the flaming piece of paper into the ashtray.

Esther looks at Nikki uncertain, “Nik, who’s to say it would be safest here? We only have the safe,” she nods to the antique safe, “And if Sam can break into a safe, then others can too.”

Nikki looks up at Esther, “It has to be safe here—else, it is not safe anywhere.”

“Look, she’s right.” Lilly suddenly interjects herself into the conversation, “I could take it back to Arkham with me. There’s a library at the Miskatonic. It has a restricted area. It would be much safer there.”

Esther scoffs, “Oh yes. That sounds like a great plan. Because bringing flowers to the bees nest and not expecting them to come after them is the perfect plan.”

“I swear I won’t let Victor have it. “ Lilly tells Nikki, “Nor his bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Nikki replies with an edge of scorn, “My dear, he is no bodyguard. Aristede is a killer—he is Petofi’s personal assassin. He is all charm right up until the moment he puts a blade into your back, or in our case, a stake through the heart.”

Lilly is now aware that Miss Collins knows far more about Professor Victor Fenn-Gibbon—who and what he is . . . and what is possibly going on than she – and she is not at all happy to have been played by the Professor.

With a cold glare, Lilly Nota cuts a sharp look up at Esther, “First of all, any being willing to try make a fool of me not only does not keep my loyalty, but isn’t very wise.”

Nikki watches Lilly with interest, “Count Andreas Petofi, or Victor Fenn-Gibbon or Edward Hutchinson, or any other host of names under which he cares to go by is not like any man you have ever dealt with Lilly—he is extremely dangerous. He is devious and cruel, and will do anything to get what he wants. I am rather sorry to have to inform you my dear, but he has played you. As he has so many others. You see, he thinks of himself as to far too aristocratic to get his hands dirty, and so he seeks out and uses others as his surrogates – usually, they do so most unwittingly. And after they have fulfilled his needs – Aristede sees to it that they are no longer loose ends to be concerned about. Had you brought him the book – he would have had you killed.”

“Still think takin’ the book to Massachusetts is a good idea?” Esther asks.

“My family’s archivers would have kept the book safe.” Lilly counters.

Nikki shakes her head reprovingly. “Lilly—trust me the safest thing at the moment is for you to stay here with us, in Collinsport.”

“Or, you know, you could just destroy it. If it is that f***in’ important to him.” Esther says looking at Nikki.

“I thank you for your concern, but no. What’s the fun in that?”

Nikki shakes her head, ignoring Miss Nota’s comment. “No, Esther. At some point in all of this – not knowing what he is precisely up to – the book may be of importance. It could have – or even be, the key to his plans.”

Corso looks at Esther with utter disdain, the very idea of destroying a book was beyond his comprehension. Kill a man yes, but to destroy a book?

Nikki interlaces her fingers as she rests her hands atop her desk, “One thing is for certain, we can be assured that whatever it is it is nothing small. The Count never does anything small. “

Lilly’s eyes narrow and there is red tint now apparent.

“He last tired to achieve Godhood by destroying the earth.” Nikki tells her.

“I don’t know about you, but it’s late, and we have things to do, Nik. I don’t feel like putting up with him, again.” Esther says remembering the night in the cemetery, the night she put a bullet in his brain and thought she had killed him . . . only, now he was alive.

“Dean, what do you know of the Subsidium Adversus Nequitiae?”

His steady gaze is now enliven, “Ah—now that is a most interesting book. A Defense Against the Forces of Evil. 11th Century. Written by two monks, Morten and Sekkr. In Latin. Although, a Norwegian translation was done. The only extant volumes are assumed to have been destroyed when the Nazi’s bombed the monastery which housed them in 1940.”

“Assumed?” Nikki leans forward.

“There is some confusion as to whether or not the Norwegian copy survived. A thief attempted to steal both, but the reports indicate that he left the original behind in his escape. It is not certain whether or not the thief made away with the copy – if so, it has not surfaced.” His eyes narrow, “You are interested in the Subsidium Adversus Nequitiae?’

”It has come up in some other matter,” Nikki tells him rather coldly.

“It is quoted you know rather extensively in François-Honore Balfour, The Comte d’Erlette’s second volume.”

Nikki looks at him with a raised brow, “The rumored second volume.”

He smiled his wolf’s smile, “More than a rumor.”

She looks at him now with a look of suppressed excitement, “Meaning.”

“The Cultes des Amoureux du Sang. Written in Amsterdam in 1704, black with gold decoration. It is a bit burned about the edges.”

“You—“

He smiles calculatingly, “Your other copy of the De Vermis Mysteriis and 250.”

Esther looks at Nikki, the look in her eyes is like that of an addict about to make a buy. “Nik.”

“Wired to the same location.”

He nods ascent.

“I want to see it.”

He looks pained, “Nicole, I would never . . .”

“I want to see it.”

He nods, and stands up, “I will bring them both when I receive the money . . . the De Vermis Mysteriis?”

“When I see The Cultes des Amoureux du Sang.”

He smiles, “Miss Nota. It was a pleasure meeting you – and, I do hope, I shall see you again.”

Lilly nods, “Be safe Mr. Corso.”

He stops at the door as he is passing Esther, “It is you who needs to be safe, Miss Nota. You are the one working for Petofi.”

Cue Music End of Episode