Disclaimer: The characters of Mark Sloan, Steve Sloan, Amanda Bentley, Jesse Travis, and Cheryl Banks do not belong to me but to CBS, Viacom et al. All other individuals are once again the product of my own undisciplined imagination, and any dubious resemblance to any living person is totally unintentional.
A virtual season episode written for Halloween. I was just in one of those moods and wanted to see just how dark I could get.
Author's Note: For those DM fans who reside outside the U.S. and may possibly be unfamiliar with a certain chain of discount department stores, a blue light special was an item which was deeply discounted for a short period of time, advertised by a blinking blue light. The expression has found its way over time into the American idiom (or idiotism, depending on the usage!).
"Amanda, are you sure this is the right place?"
Jesse Travis got out of Amanda's car and looked around dubiously. The street was one of several rows of small shops with second-floor apartments in one of the quieter parts of Los Angeles, which some enterprising soul had turned into an artist/craft/antiques cooperative after noticing a natural trend along those lines in the development of the area. Now it flourished, and the purveyors along with it, and it was said that one could find almost anything, no matter how esoteric or unusual, if one looked carefully enough. Jesse blinked at the sign above the door of their target.
"Mysterium." He turned as pathologist Amanda Bentley hit the lock on her keychain and joined him in front of the shop. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Amanda was peering into the front window, where an assortment of old books and metallic objects could be seen faintly in the reflected light from outside. The inner part of the shop was dark, and it was hard to tell if it was even open for business. She tried the doorknob, raising an eyebrow in surprise when it turned. "Come on, Jesse. I've been told they have a selection of antique books on magic here. You know how Mark is about that sort of thing — this has got to be the perfect place to look for a present for him."
She was undoubtedly right; but Jesse shivered anyway as he followed her in, a strange little cold finger of dread trailing down his spine. He pulled himself together, telling himself it was the apparently deliberate murkiness of the interior that was bothering him, and started to look around. Strangely enough, no proprietor came out immediately to greet them, and they wandered around for a short while, occasionally picking up an item to examine it more closely, then laying it back once more. Jesse's nerves began to tauten again; there was nothing here, at least nothing he thought he wanted to take away with him. He said so, shortly.
"Come on, Amanda. Let's go."
She turned and gave him an odd look. "This was your idea, Jesse, you wanted to get him something to do with magic."
"Yeah, but — like maybe one of those kits of new tricks, or something — this place gives me the willies." He started to edge towards the door, hoping she'd take the hint.
"But —" Amanda's mouth turned down. So many old, old books — even if they didn't find something for Mark, the volumes she'd looked at so far were either fascinating, or intricately printed, with illuminated pages, or both. She wanted to see more, wallow in their historic beauty. With a small sigh of disappointment, she started to follow.
"May I help you, sir and madam?"
The voice literally came out of nowhere, making them both jump; Jesse was positive the elderly man had not been in the room at all a second ago, and here he was practically at the young doctor's elbow. He was stooped, with a fringe of white hair and pince-nez glasses, and it was impossible to determine just how old he was. How stereotypical, Jesse thought with a trace of resentment, but then he saw the spark of excitement in Amanda's eyes and knew he was stuck.
"Uh — a good friend of ours is an amateur magician, and collects old magic paraphernalia and literature, and we're looking for —"
The proprietor had already started to move purposefully towards a back corner. "Something of exceptional value, yes? I have just the thing."
Willy-nilly, the two doctors followed the small figure deeper into the gloom, noticing with some discomfort that a small light seemed to grow as they moved, lighting only the area where they were and leaving the rest of the interior as dark as before. They exchanged a perturbed glance, and Jesse murmured, "When we get out of here, you are so going to owe me."
Amanda shook her head to shush him as the old man stopped suddenly at a small table, which hardly looked sturdy enough to support the book that lay upon it.
"Here it is. The memoir and, some say, the grimoire, if you know where to look, of Marcus of Valpines."
"The grimoire?" Amanda repeated involuntarily.
His eyes slid towards her, then away again. "If you know where to look."
Unwillingly, somehow drawn to the volume, Jesse approached it and drew one finger along the etched letters chased in gold leaf on the leather cover. The compulsion spoke again, and he watched in fascination as the same finger gently slipped under the cover and slowly opened the book. "Wow. Amanda, look at this."
Now she was having second thoughts about the wisdom of this exercise. Something about the look in Jesse's eyes — but then he blinked, and it vanished. "What?" he asked, puzzled.
Amanda shook her head. "Nothing — a goose walked over my grave, is all. Never mind." She turned her attention to the proprietor. "How much is it?" she asked, hoping the price would be too outrageous to contemplate.
The shrewd eyes behind the old-fashioned glasses considered the potential buyers, flicked to the book, to Jesse's face, and back to Amanda. "Ordinarily, a volume such as this would be worth over a thousand —"
"Dollars?" squeaked Jesse, mouth suddenly dry.
A nod. "But — I have always believed that books of this kind choose their own paths, and I believe that your friend should be its next owner. I will sell it to you for one hundred."
It was Amanda's turn to play parrot. "One hundred?" Her eyes narrowed. "That's quite a discount."
The proprietor shrugged. "It's my shop. I'm not dependent on it for living expenses, so I choose to try to match items with the proper owners. Call it an old man's whim."
The doctors exchanged another look, and Jesse found himself suddenly reluctant to leave the book on its table. "You know Mark will be so excited, Amanda."
She couldn't help thinking that this was a really stupid idea, but she had no proof, nor even a particularly effective theory. And Jesse was right; Mark would indeed be delighted by the gift. Her small, recalcitrant voice of reason considered, and added that perhaps the book would find an excuse to move on quickly to a new owner, and she capitulated. "All right, Jesse. Half and half, as we agreed."
But the look in his eyes was back as he almost jealously watched the old man prepare the book, wrapping it lovingly and painstakingly, and Amanda's neck prickled. She determined to keep a weather eye on both of her friends very carefully until she could be sure that there was no need for concern.