He looked at a eye

The silver bell rang louder than it should have as the door burst open beneath it--a clear announcement that the proprietor of Dog-Eared Books had returned from her errand.

"Can you believe it," she shouted incredulously. "They didn't have IBC? That's bullshit."

Madison's footsteps thundered throughout the store as she stomped over to the counter, where her blue-haired employee stood.

"I had to settle for Barq's. Even bullshittier." Which wasn't a word, she was 99% certain. But we're going to roll with it.

She reached into the plastic bag and tossed a bottle Marcus's way. "Here, got you one too. Catch."

He didn't.

The root beer unceremoniously hit his shoulder and fell to the ground, where it bounced on the carpet three times before rolling away. The necromancer blinked. Usually the boy was a bit more skittish than that, and should have at least flinched when hit by the sugary carbonated beverage.

Madison drew closer, her brow knit in confusion. "Hey, Marcus--"

She raised her fingers, ready to snap them in his ear, when she caught sight of the thing on the counter. A very familiar thing, a frightening thing, a powerful thing

a thing that should not have been out in the open like that

"What the fuck," she muttered. Her hand fell onto Marcus's shoulder, her thin fingers digging into soft flesh.

"What the fuck." Her sapphire eyes darted back and forth between the Grimoire and the empty look in Marcus's eyes.

"What the fuck," Madison nearly screamed as the color drained from her face. "No you didn't, you idiot. No. You. Fucking. Didn't."

He didn't say no.

She was going to hit him.

Marcus did not say no.

She was going to hit him really hard. Rattle a couple of his teeth loose, knock the answer she wanted to hear out of him.

"We don't have this in the store," Madison hissed through clenched teeth. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to snap his collarbone and incur some sort of fine from the city. "This book doesn't exist, do you understand me?"

Madison hoped beyond hope that the Grimoire didn't reach into the young lad's mind and fill it with promises. She knew that it was an idiotic thought--as soon as that hungry little pile of eyeballs caught a glimpse of someone packing a soul, it reached out with its little telepathic tentacles and made grabby-hands with them, begging and pleading for their essence.

She dragged him away from the counter, away from the dangerous and alluring book. Her face twisted in anger, her eyes filled with a crazed fire. "What did the book show you? Did you... did you read it?"

"You read it," she repeated, almost a growl.

The feeling when one's world falls apart around them is hard to put to words, but however you'd describe it, that's what Madison was feeling right then and there.

"You read the book." She took a step closer, her left hand clenching tightly into a fist and opening again. You peered into one of its eyes, and allowed it into your mind."

Great. Just great.

Maddy could hear the police sirens now.

But... Not everything had gone to shit, yes? Marcus was still here, he was still coherent... mostly. Clearly, he had no idea what the truth of the Grimoire was. The curious and careless wretch knew that something about him changed, but couldn't say what, exactly.

That was good.

...No, it was obviously less than good. But she had to believe it was, to keep from screaming.

He didn't need to know that his soul was now forfeit. He didn't need to know that the book left him with a present of its own imprinted in him, a fancy new line of magic for him to practice--whatever it might have been. He didn't need to know that he probably should report her for violating sooooooo many Manta Carlos Island laws, having an artifact such as the Grimoire in her store. He didn't have to learn that she would've stuffed his corpse in the labyrinthine sewer system beneath the city streets if he tried to.

Deep breath. Exhale. Everything was going to be fine.

Madison relaxed just a bit, as much as she could have. She tried to think fast as she gave Marcus a couple of quick, tense pats on the head, messing up his azure hair.

"It's a book of powerful illusions," she lied, scrambling for some sort of cover story. "That's why it's all..." The necromancer waved a hand towards the book made of eyeballs, as if that would explain why it was, well, a book made of eyeballs.

"If you're still feeling off, it should pass within a day or two. Maybe a week. I'm still trying to study the effects of the spells within it, but as you can imagine it's been quite an ordeal."