But it didn’t make any sense. Vik said the book had been stolen. He wouldn’t have lied to me, and if he’d just found it again, why was he standing there like he was waiting for something to happen?

But it was more than the book that made a cold ball of anxiety tighten in my stomach. The black-robed figures. The runes, the book, the murmuring. Somehow, all of it reminded me of what had happened in New York City. Could these be… cultists? What did they want? Why was Vik with them? And where was this theatre? If Vik was there, it couldn’t be far from Portsmouth. Innsmouth.

So much for this boring place where I lived being a town of no consequence.

The sheet over the tall coffin box rustled, and a woman stepped into view, her long, smooth legs peeking out from the slit in her pencil skirt as she stood, graceful and confident in her black pumps.

Ms. Epistola!

Anger flashed through me. What was she doing there? Why was she hanging out in a dark creepy theatre with a student after school hours? Wasn’t that totally unprofessional or something?

“There.” A smile curved over her full red lips as she reached out and ran one perfectly-manicured finger down Vik’s cheek. For a moment, Vik’s lower lip quivered. “You see,” she went on, her voice husky, “Everything is ready. You have it?”

Vik fumbled as he slipped a towel-wrapped bundle out from under his arms and passed it to her. “Here,” he murmured. “I have it.”

Ms. Epistola graced him with a smile that would have melted steel, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. Typical, stupid boy. Show him a pretty face and his brain totally turns off.

Then Ms. Epistola pulled the towel away from the bundle, and my heart plunged to the soles of my feet. Sitting comfortably in her hands was a slender, red-leather bound book.

The Eldritch Grimoire.

“NYARLATHOTEP!” Riley’s roar shook the foundations of the shop.

I threw my arms over my head, cowering away from the rage, my heart thudding in my ears, my eyes glued to the screen. Vik had the Grimoire! Where had he gotten it? What was Epistola going to do with it?

“Keep your pants on,” Neil grumbled to Riley, though somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought I heard a note of concern in his voice. “We’ll figure this out.”

“My darling!” Epistola cried, delighted with the gift Vik had given her, like she hadn’t expected it at all. “You lovely, thoughtful boy!”

She leaned forward and, cradling the Grimoire to her cleavage with one hand, ran a finger up Vik’s throat. At her praise, his eyes lit up and he leaned forward, as if entranced by her scent.

“Soon,” she murmured in his ear, “we will command the gods themselves.”