Page 6 of The Banning of Bath Bombs
Declan obediently grabbed the soaking wet grimoire and wrapped it in a towel before following Ross out and downstairs. Ross messaged Keane and managed to coordinate their Australian wizard to his house with the right stuff to dry out the grimoire in record time. In fact, he’d barely gotten Declan situated at the kitchen island with a glass of wine and one for himself when Keane burst in through the side door.
“What’s this, then?” Keane demanded, juggling an arm full of items.
Declan lifted the grimoire with a pitiful expression. “Help. I didn’t mean to get it wet.”
“Oh, that…is not good.” Keane zeroed in on the grimoire and immediately settled his armful on the marble countertop before reaching for it. “But it’s not as bad as it could be. Let’s stick this right in the freezer until we have a game plan.”
Ross waved him on and peppered Declan with questions. “I need names at least. Give me two full names. If you know their social media drug of choice, tell me that, too.”
Declan’s brow furrowed. “I know what social media is, but I don’t use it. So I don’t know.”
Of course he fucking didn’t. “Names, then.”
“Oh. In that case, uh, Gunnar Killian Sutherland and Kittichat Konkaeo.”
Ross blinked. “Is that last one Asian?”
“Thai.”
“Well, hopefully his name makes him easy to find. How do you spell it?”
Declan took the paper and pen Ross handed him and neatly penned both names. A lead, finally! Ross waved them on to work on the book, as Keane apparently had a lot of questions for Declan about the book’s makeup before they could plan how to salvage it. Some of those questions, of course, were “How did you even get here?”and “What do you mean bath bombs are portal magic?” It’s fine. Keane could unravel the how’s of Declan’s arrival. It would all make more sense to him than Ross, that was for sure.
Now, he could try social media first, especially with the unique Thai name, but…odds were it would be the slowest route to find Declan’s people.
Besides, Ross had a K. Or a Widow. Whoever picked up their phone first.
He got himself situated in a comfy chair in the living room, angled so he could see his guest from the doorway, but far enough away as to not have the conversations overlap. Settled in with his wine, he called K.
“Ross, hi. Please tell me you’re not calling for an emergency.”
He felt that greeting. He felt it in his soul. “Nothing’s actively on fire, at least. But I do need help ASAP.”
K let out a long sigh. “Seems to be the day for them.”
“You too, huh?”
“We’re both the problem solvers for our little groups, after all.”
“I really can’t refute that. It’s why I’m sitting here on the phone with you with wine in hand.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“A man portaled into my bathtub because of a bath bomb gone wrong.”
A digestive pause. “Jesus in the crackhouse. Are you serious?”
“He was starkers, for the record. Oh, and fumbling with a grimoire he’d dropped in the bathwater.”
“Let me guess, he was more concerned about the grimoire and not that he was in some random guy’s tub?”
“You sure you don’t have cameras in my house?”
“I’m unfortunately getting used to how you guys roll. I’m just as upset about this incident as you are. It means the insanity is getting predictable and I do not approve. All right, you called me for a reason. What is it?”
“I need help finding and contacting his people.”
“So this is something I can do remotely?I don’t have to travel?”
