The Otsha Police Department was a busy place with Officers and Detectives handling various cases like ants in an ant hill. Josefine sat in one of the interrogation rooms on the wrong side of the table across from Andries and his partner Detective Davidson.
"So you claim you were working a case and tripped over two bodies in as many days," Davidson held the same disregard a lot of law enforcement held for Josefine and it was made clear in the tone he used to question her, "You were even there when the second one dropped. Any idea how he died?" He folded his arms across his chest.
"I'd say magic, but you won't believe me." She copied the gesture as she spoke, keeping her voice level despite his antagonism,
"What did you see?" When Davidson leaned forward, she mirrored him.
"I watched him get very cold very quickly as those runes appeared on his skin, and then he dropped dead." She opened her hands in a wide shrug, "I don't know how it happened exactly, I just know what I saw." That was a lie, Andries would know it was a lie because he knew she could sense magic, but then Josefine had never liked his partner and he knew that too.
"Magic?" The partner scoffed so she flashed her teeth in something that almost resembled a smile and leaned away from the table.
"Did you think I killed them? I'm legitimately curious how you think I did it."
Davidson was on his feet with that, towering over her across the table. "Do you take me for a fool?" Josefine raised an eyebrow at the question and glanced at Andries as if questioning whether he was being serious and taking in the don't you dare look on his face before she focused back on Davidson.
"Usually, yes. Andries at least listens to reason—" She broke off when his open palm connected with her cheek with a loud crack that snapped her face to the side and left her ear ringing. Her chair crashed to the floor as she scrambled back and he lunged after her.
"I'll show you reason, you little—" Andries grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back.
"That's enough," he muttered, shoving Davidson to the side while the gruff man straightened out his suit with an indignant look.
"Look," Josefine paused to right her chair and flex her jaw muscles, "you don't actually have anything solid tying me to these deaths and my case has a deadline, so I'll just see myself out."
"You're not—" Davidson began to protest as she rose to her feet.
"She's right, Davidson, we can't hold her." Andries cut him off and gave Josefine a nod, "You're free to go Doc, we'll be in touch if there's anything else."
"You know where to find me," she gave him a wave and slipped out the door.
#
Her visit to the Otsha Police Department used up a sizeable chunk of the time Anna had allotted Josefine for the case, so she was quick to head back to the university in search of the linguistics professor and the black book. Getting into the university now that the sun was setting was easier than she'd expected, she supposed professors working late grading papers and such kept the doors open late. She made it all the way to the linguistics department without running into anyone and found the door open just a crack.
"Quiet," Wolf whispered from the dark.
"Yeah," Josefine murmured back, "it is." She reached out and cracked open the door a little bit further, peering through the gap.
Then she opened it all at once and muttered a Norwegian swear under her breath.
The linguistics professor was slouched in his chair with ink-black runes patterning his dark skin.
The book was gone.
#
Back at square one, Josefine returned to her apartment and office to regroup with Neirin. Neirin met her as she rounded the partition leaning on the table in the middle of the space and looking at a familiar black book. She exhaled a long-suffering sigh and sank against the divide at the sight of it.
"Neirin," she breathed and he looked up in surprise, "that book is a very dangerous thing to have."
"I thought we wanted the book back," he trailed off.
"We did, but that book killed the last three people who had it longer than a couple of minutes." Neirin paled a bit at those words.
"Like it's cursed?" Josefine nodded.
"If we hand that book over now, it'll kill you," she checked her watch, "three hours left."
#
When dealing with magic and curses, there was only one person Josefine trusted and that was Emilius Solomon. Josefine let herself into Raven's Roost, his book and magic supply shop, with Neirin hot on her heels and Emil looked up from his book. A smile started to appear on his face except something twisted across it like distaste before it could.
"What are you bringing into my shop now?" Josefine gestured toward Neirin and Neirin pulled the black book partially out of his suit jacket.
"I seem to have picked up a cursed object," the Welsh lilted over his accent as he approached Emil's desk but Emil raised his hands in a stopping motion, eyeing the book warily.
"Flip the sign around, will you Josie? We'll have to take that upstairs." She listened, stepping back to flip the sign around to closed while Neirin followed Emil up the stairs into his living space. Protective sigils were painted across the walls, crystals and salt lined the windows, and plush rugs were scattered across the floor. From there, Emil led them into the spare room he'd converted into a workspace after moving in. The magic sparked across Josefine's skin as she crossed the threshold into the room and Emil glanced back as if he felt it too. "The room is sealed off from the outside so that whatever's inside can't affect out there." Now he took the black book from Neirin and settled it on the table against one wall. "Where'd this book come from?" He opened the book to a random page.
"Anna." He stopped at that.
"You stole from Manhattan?" He looked back at Neirin in surprise.
"My partner did," Neirin spoke defensively, "I was stealing it back." Emil glanced Josefine's way again because he knew Neirin about as well as she did so she gave him a noncommittal shrug.
"Alright, we'll say I believe you," he turned back to the book, studying the pages. "This looks like a grimoire," he observed as he turned them carefully. "See these runes?" Josefine leaned forward against him, balancing on her toes to see them over his shoulder.
"They look like the same runes that appeared on the bodies," her breath whispered across Emil's skin and he shivered but by the time he'd glanced her way she'd already stepped back again. He cleared his throat and looked back toward the book.
"I don't recognize the language, but some of the letters bear hints of Enochian and Dimoori Sheol," his finger followed certain lines on some of the letters, "it makes me think the language is as old as they are."
Enochian Josefine was familiar with—the language of the angels—but she wasn't certain she'd ever heard of Dimoori Sheol. "What's Dimoori Sheol?"
Emil barely looked up at the question, wholly fascinated with the grimoire of someone as powerful as Anna Manhattan and the knowledge it potentially contained. "The language of the damned," he turned another page, studying the images and writing for a moment longer before he turned to Neirin and reached out, bluish energy swirling at his fingertips as he turned his hand like he was turning a key in a lock. Josefine wasn't sure what was supposed to happen, but the spell flashed a dark, angry red as faded runes started appearing across Neirin's skin before Emil flinched back as the bar ring across two of his fingers sparked. Emil breathed a heavy sigh, closed the book, and handed it back to Neirin. "Unfortunately I can't break this curse," he flashed them an apologetic look, soft German in his accent, "I don't think anyone could break this curse other than Ms. Manhattan, what with her being the one who made it." Josefine and Neirin exchanged worried looks as Emil leveled Neirin with pitying blue eyes, "My best suggestion: beg for her forgiveness."