“It’s a cipher.”
“Are you familiar with it?”
“Something like it.” He had seen it before. He knew he had. In France, on documents…that last mission, the man he’d been in search of…they’d intercepted some strange letters, magical ones, that they’d assumed had come from Napoleon’s sorcerers, and they’d needed to know what it all meant…
He’d thought it had been military. Intelligence. Something developed by the French, charmed against easy deciphering. But if there was a version of it here, in a centuries-old proscribed text…
“Are there any other copies of these ledgers?”
“I don’t believe so.” Theo’s eyebrows tugged together. “The Aiwass cult was based in England—in Surrey, in fact—and they were awfully paranoid about outsiders. I know the partial copy that was stolen and brought to Paris
