The Art of Keeping Dangerous Books

by R.J. Blain
(The Apothecary’s Secret, #1)
Publication date: July 6th 2027
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Urban Fantasy

To master the art of keeping dangerous books, one must learn the golden rule: some knowledge should never be shared.

Bookshop owner by day, restorer of rare and dangerous books by night, Kita James is thrilled to acquire a new poisonous book from the Victorian era. From the swirling patterns on the cover to its unusual leather binding, IN SEARCH OF LIFE is truly a unique find. However, testing of the vibrant tome reveals its darker nature: the leather is that of a human along with an extinct animal from the ice age. To further complicate matters, a new radioactive element is discovered lurking within its pages.

The deeper she delves into the toxic text, the less she likes about what she learns. From the dawn of humanity, people had searched for the secrets of eternal life and resurrection. And if Lugalbanda-Alad, the author of the mysterious volume, was to be believed, he had found it.

Joining forces with Dav, a rather vocal book in her collection, Kita works to unveil the apothecary’s secret. With the right magic and a strong enough will, the forbidden lore might be able to set Dav free along with the other sentient books confined within her shelves.

But all knowledge comes at a price: if IN SEARCH OF LIFE were to fall into the wrong hands, it could usher in the destruction of all Kita holds dear and the enslavement of all mankind.

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While most tomes lacked sentience, three of my volumes could, when they wish, offer commentary on my work. The three I had had all been bound with human flesh, tanned into a thin leather which had been stretched over a layer of cow to offer it strength and longevity.

According to one of the tomes, the smallest of the three, he still lived out there somewhere, and a bastard of a tyrant had skinned his back several times to make the volume. He’d gone as far as to tell me precisely which incantations within his covers worked, which brought misfortune to the unwary, and the ones which did nothing at all.

Dav tended to wake up on Tuesdays, and I took care to offer him a few hours of evening conversation, mostly about the modern world, to keep him from losing what remained of his mind. Once, he’d given me a little knowledge of his past, a teaser of what he knew.

Once upon a time, he’d beheld Michelangelo carve David, and from time to time during those storied years, he’d even posed for the artist so that he might get every muscle correct. Standing with his arm straight and his hand slightly angled, all so that a tiny muscle of the elbow might be better seen, had been quite arduous on him. A quick search online had revealed Dav to be a nickname for David, and that my tome preferred it over the other options, which irritated his delicate ears.

His words, not mine.

Alas, it was not Tuesday, so I doubted Dav would come even if I called.

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.

AI is never used in the creation of RJ’s novels.

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