James Byrne, former cop and seeker witch, loved Boston. He really did. It was a small yet bustling city, poised at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, that experienced all the weather that God and Mother Nature had to offer. Each of the four seasons had unique characteristics to recommend them. And James appreciated all of them—the cool crispness of fall with its gorgeous riot of leaf color, the snow and ice of winter for sledding and ice skating on Frog Pond, the fresh start that was spring exploding with renewed life, and the growing warmth of summer that compelled people to spend a day frolicking at the beach. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere that was endlessly cold or hot, sunny or overcast. How boring.

He reminded himself of all this as he sat sweltering in his office. Even with the window open and the luxury of the ceiling fan rotating above his head, there was no relief from the relentless heat of August. It was hot enough that he sat in his shirtsleeves. Very unprofessional, but it wasn’t as if he expected any visitors. After his early triumph of thwarting the would-be blackmailer Wyles, his detective agency hadn’t seen people knocking down the doors for his services. Oh, he had collected small fees for finding lost items, but his hopes of the high-class Boston residents coming to him for serious help had been dashed. And the money that Melinda Appleton had showered him with to buy his complicity in her schemes had been spent. His pay-out from the police force was likewise nearly gone. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to afford his office or his precious automobile. Times were tight.

James wadded up another page of the newspaper and tossed it into his wastepaper basket a few feet from his desk. As timewasters went, the game was as good as any. He didn’t have to expend a lot of energy and he took a pathetic amount of pride in his aim getting better. There weren’t many pages left, however, to turn into mini-basketballs. And it was getting time to think about closing up that which didn’t need to be open in the first place, sadly, and figuring out what he was going to do about supper. There wasn’t much money in his pocket at the moment. Still, it wasn’t only his hunger he had to assuage, so he needed to be creative in his purchases. He glanced over to the corner where Aden lay curled up in the coolest darkness the room had to offer. Snow leopards weren’t meant for hot and steamy climates and the boy didn’t seem to be any more comfortable in his human skin. At least in animal form he could pant some of the heat out of his body.

This was what kept James up at night. He wasn’t responsible for only himself anymore. His familiar counted on him to provide food and shelter and everything else that people needed to survive. James was becoming sick with worry that he wouldn’t be able to take proper care of the boy. Not that Aden ever complained about or demanded anything. No, he accepted whatever James gave him, however meager, with sincere appreciation. That didn’t change the fact that James wanted to give him far more because the boy had known little but cold duty from first his parents, then the familiar Academy where they’d dumped him out of fear and a certain amount of greed, no doubt. Plus, he loved the boy with greater and more frightening depth with each passing day. It was simply inconceivable that he would fail in giving Aden the best life possible.

He slipped his pocket watch out of his vest and looked at the time. Three in the afternoon, sufficiently late in the day to give up on anything happening. They could grab a sandwich from a street vendor and find a big, shady tree on the Common to relax and eat under until the sun went down and the heat dissipated as much as it was going to. The apartment would be as hot as the office, if not hotter, and with no fan to help stir the air. There was no reason to go there any sooner than was necessary.

James rose from his chair, gathered all the paper balls that hadn’t landed in the basket, then slipped on his jacket. God, even the light linen material made him feel as if he’d just draped himself in hot water bottles. He hoped he would live long enough to see the day when people could walk around with fewer clothes without being arrested for indecency. Of course, he could go to the beach and put on his bathing suit, but that would mean exposing Aden to even more of the sun and there hadn’t been time or money to buy such a limited type of clothing for the boy. He wasn’t going to torture his familiar to get some relief for himself.

Damn it!

He was about to rouse Aden when hurried footsteps caught his attention. Someone was coming at a rush, which gave James his first real hope in weeks. Nothing caused that much urgency unless it was very important. And really, that could merely mean a beloved pet was missing and not a stolen jewel of great value or the wayward scion of a wealthy family. That type of low-level work wouldn’t cover more than a few days of sandwiches, if that. Even as he faced the door, he braced for disappointment.

The door burst open to reveal a tall, whip-thin man with wide eyes and ginger hair sticking up in wild fashion as if his fingers had been pulling on it for hours. Although dressed as a gentleman, he was clearly not wealthy as the fashion of the garments was outdated and all his cuffs were visibly frayed. Nevertheless, James straightened and put on his best smile. From his place in the corner, Aden opened his eyes.

The visitor marched up to the desk. “Mr. Byrne? Or are you Mr. Snow?” The man’s voice was reedy and his accent wasn’t local.

“I’m James Byrne, seeker witch.” He gestured toward Aden. “That is my familiar and partner Mr. Snow.”

The man whipped his long face in Aden’s direction. His eyes widened even more. “Oh, er, yes, I see.” He returned his stare to James, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing on a hard swallow. Then he plucked at his collar and clutched a brown satchel, not unlike James’, tightly to his chest.

When nothing more was forthcoming, James took up the reins of the conversation. “Please sit.” He gestured to his one visitor chair before plopping his ass on his own. He waited a few seconds before asking, “How may we help you, Mr.…?”

More tugging and swallowing. “It’s professor. I’m Professor Horace Bullwinkle.”

Of course you are. James hadn’t met any academics that he could recall, but this man confirmed his expectations of what one looked like. Once again, he waited in vain for more information.

James softly cleared his throat. “What do you need us to find, Professor Bullwinkle?”

“Oh, um. A book? Yes, a book,” he amended his question to a statement.

James’ heart sank. He would have preferred to find another cat. This man certainly looked like someone who would have one as a pet. Still, work was work. He steepled his fingers on his desk blotter and called upon his limited patience.

“What kind of book, Professor?”

A line of sweat trickled down the man’s temple, although whether it was from exertion in this heat or nervousness, one couldn’t tell. “Forgive me, Mr. Byrne, but do you need to know that information in order to find it?”

James immediately became suspicious even though the man sitting in front of him looked like someone who would forget to eat until he passed out from hunger. So, he kept his voice calm and his expression non-threatening as he answered.

“I’m afraid I do, yes. It helps me focus my powers and be able to confirm that I’ve found the right one when I locate it.” This was mostly true, although he wanted to tease out of his maybe-client that which he was obviously hiding. The last thing James and Aden needed was another Josie Appleton situation.

The professor’s gaze dropped. “Yes, of course. I really should have known that because…” He sat up straighter. “I’m a witch myself.”

That was interesting information. Normally, as a witch, James had no trouble knowing another of his kind when he met one. This guy was very adept at hiding his nature. The question was why? In the next second he had his answer.

“You see, Mr. Byrne, I’m a very religious person and believe that the, um, witch part of me is a test of my faith. I refuse to give in to it. Not that I condemn others for doing so, mind you. No offense intended.”

James flashed a grin. “No, of course not.” Just another hypocrite, frowning on others until they needed something for themselves. “What is this book?” He prompted because really, Bullwinkle wasn’t the only one sweating. James wanted out of the office as soon as possible.

The professor’s gaze skidded away. “This is so embarrassing.”

“I assure you we’re very discreet. No one will ever know you sought out the services of a witch.”

Bullwinkle shook his head. “That’s not it. My chagrin comes from having to confess to you that I did something quite beyond the bounds of propriety.”

“Is this an indecent book of some sort? Perhaps one with pictures of scantily clad ladies?” As he asked the question, he wondered why someone would take the trouble to find such a thing. Unless the man had been stupid enough to pen in his name or something.

Bullwinkle’s chin kicked up. “Certainly not! I’m a religious man, as I’ve said. The book itself is perfectly respectable. A history of Ancient Egypt, as it happens. It’s a centuries-old copy of the much older text of an Egyptian priest.”

“So, it’s valuable.” James was beginning to warm up to this engagement.

“For a scholar such as myself, it’s priceless.”

And there went his burgeoning excitement.

“Look, Professor, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really must insist you explain what is going on.”

The man appeared chastened. “Of course. My apologies.” He leaned forward, that satchel still clutched to his breast as if it were his child. “I’m a professor of history at Harvard. Ancient Egypt is my specialized area. I’ve even had the privilege of being on a dig myself last year. It was the most amazing experience.” His eyes lit up briefly with an almost fervor. “It is also my great fortune that I have access to reference material at the university’s library. Such a rich resource. But also comes with strict rules. One of which is that patrons may not take certain books out of the library.”

James glanced pointedly at the satchel. “Can I assume you broke that rule?”

“Sadly, yes.” Bullwinkle patted his satchel. “I always have this with me. I’m very careful not to let it out of my sight, and I had only just found this magnificent book, hidden away, forgotten by my colleagues. There wasn’t a lot of time to read it, then the library was closing for the day. I just couldn’t wait a whole night to get it in my hands again. Nothing was going to happen to it. Nothing was supposed to, anyway. Somewhere, somehow between my leaving the campus and journeying to my home in Cambridge, it simply…disappeared. I’ll lose my job if they find out,” he added in a low voice. “To say nothing of having lost a valuable resource in my field.”

When the man once more went silent on him, James took a piece of foolscap, his pen and inkwell and slid them over to the edge of the desk along with his blotter. “Professor, I need you to please write down everywhere you went and everything you did that day after leaving the library. And it would be helpful if you had something connected to the book that I can use as a talisman for it. Although, being a reference book, I assume there is nothing.”

Bullwinkle had been reaching for the pen. Instead, he opened his satchel. “Oh, but there is something.” He handed over a worn leather bookmark. “I used this, as I always do. For whatever reason, it was left behind by whom I can only assume was a thief.” The professor proceeded in scratching out words on the paper.

James took the item and rubbed the soft material with his forefinger and thumb. There was something there, faint, yet distinct. And not in a good way. He supposed it echoed the many people who had touched the book over the centuries, some good, some not so much.

He placed it on his desk and reached for the piece of paper. “With these two things, I should be able to locate it.” He scanned the information the professor had provided. There wasn’t much, but it gave him a path to tread and hopefully that would strengthen what he felt from the bookmark.

The professor breathed out heavily. “Thank the lord. I didn’t know where to turn for help and keep this horrible affair quiet.” He stood and reached into his coat pocket to take out a fairly, and surprisingly, thick money clip. “Will this be enough to cover your fee?” the man asked as he handed over twice as much as James intended to charge.

Tempting as it was, he couldn’t accept the whole of it. He stood to take the wad of cash, then peeled off the right amount. “This will do, thank you.”

Bullwinkle stuffed the returned money and the clip back into his pocket. “You’re too kind.” He licked his lower lip. “May I ask when you’ll get started? I’m not the only person who might request this particular book and when the librarian can’t find it…”

“I understand, Professor. We’ll get started right away. If all goes well, we might have it back to you tonight.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.” Gratitude showed in the man’s eyes.

“No promises, but we’ll do our best. Where can we find you once we have the book?”

Bullwinkle rattled off his address. “You’ll find me there. I rarely go out and won’t leave my home unless it’s to teach. Or eat. I do need to do that.” He frowned, as if taking the time to put food in his belly was an inconvenience.

No hand was offered as the professor turned toward the door, and James sensed that a gentlemanly shake was not something Bullwinkle would welcome, so James stayed behind the desk.

Bullwinkle paused on his way out and he stared at Aden. The familiar had remained awake, listening as always, yet had made no noise to call attention to himself. James couldn’t wait to hear the boy’s take on this new client of theirs. The familiar had a keen sense when it came to humans. James trusted his judgment completely.

The professor looked at James over his shoulder. “Such a lovely creature. I’ve always liked cats. The Egyptians worshipped them, you know.” The same intensity as before flashed in his eyes. Then, with that confession made, the man left.