The light shone upon it’s leather cover from the hall through the door open just wide enough for a single eye to peer in. Magnificent.
Lying there peacefully, my treasure, a dangerous book. It had brought characters back to life in a previous adventure where it had fallen open into the wrong hands. From its pages a spell had been cast that.. well, I dare not utter it!
The rough bindings were held in place by silver grommets. They say the threads of the bindings come from the hairs of head of its maker, a clever and sinister storyteller himself, one JP.
I shiver in my thin nightgown and close the door. Sleep, evil book, in your glass case. I walk away from it, knowing it had called me there. Trying to get me to release it, it sends me nightmares about my writing friends hunted by men in suits by sea and air.
Creeping back to bed down the hall from my library, I hear a low moan from the library. The book is upset that it has not won me. Hawk Manor is safe as long as I am in control of its inhabitants.