The alarm rang and the man awoke.

"Awoke" was perhaps a strong term- Maximilian Cotto often found himself in a sort of half-doze in the hour before the alarm went off. A conscious dream. Sometimes he had pleasant thoughts, sometimes he saw things he couldn't be certain were real or a nightmare. Given the number of occult books packed into the sprawling old Cape Cod style house, Max had no way to be sure.

At any rate, Max got out of bed, stretched, wandered into his newly refinished bathroom for a leisurely shower, an exacting shave, and to meticulously brush and floss before combing his hair. His grooming routine completed to his exacting specifications, Max then entered his walk-in closet and dressed for the day, selecting a dark blue three-piece. Scrupulously clean and boasting the latest gadgets, the kitchen had been recently expanded and refurbished as well. Aware of the Wells and Raick tradition of bringing breakfast foods (and trying to remember when his turn was coming up), Max did no cooking, instead brewing a pot of strong, freshly-ground Ethiopian coffee- a born Seattleite, anything less than the best coffee would elicit no enthusiasm from him. He drank precisely one cup of the flavorful brew, before pouring the rest into a Thermos to be drank at the office. 

Now it was time for the part of his morning ritual that he always, always dreaded.

Max returned to his bedroom and got the items he needed from his bedstand- his Hand of Miriam necklace, his revolver, his shofar. Revolver in one hand, shofar in the other, he walked to the door of his library. Max glanced down at the bottom of the case-hardened steel door- the Ward of salt was undisturbed, a positive sign. He turned the key in the heavy deadbolts in the thick door, took a deep breath, and walked in.

This one room had required more renovations than any other part of the house. Several bedrooms and a study had been joined in one cavernous chamber, the walls knocked out and the ceiling raised to accommodate his magical library. The windows had been bricked up to prevent natural light from coming in- or the escape of any of the demons he occasionally Summoned in this chamber. The walls had been thickened from the inside with a layer of reinforced concrete. And of course the hermetic seals, the rerouted ventilation, the careful light and climate control to protect some of the more ancient volumes. 

Revolver raised, Max made a thorough and careful survey of this room. Having this many magical books in one place could become a bane as much as a boon. They gathered arcane force of their own, and there was always a possibility that the amount would reach a sort of magical critical mass, a weight too heavy for our reality to carry. His teachers had warned him of this hazard of amassing too many occult books- no one wanted to repeat the infamous experience of the Hermit of the Rif in 1895. No one at all. Max looked for what he had been told were early warning signs. Nothing out of place from when he left it last night, no ectoplasm, no scorch marks, no smell of brimstone. Good. Ever cautious, Max took a careful look at the heavy steel safe in which some of his more dangerous tomes were locked. Still untouched since the move, still unopened since he had placed the script for [i]The King in Yellow[/i] inside with the other dangerous works last month.

Finally satisfied that there was nothing to see here, Max walked over to the desk in the center of the library, picked up the book had had received via airmail yesterday. A 1922 edition of [i]Tobin's Spirit Guide[/i] in the original French, unlike the abridged and bastardized English translation. Most of the French copies had been destroyed by bombing in WWII, but through determined Internet searches he had chased down a copy in Bruges. He thought it might make a useful reference guide to keep in the office- though honestly only Lenya would be likely to use it and the higher-ups probably had everything in there memorized. 

Done with his morning routine, Max donned a light scarf- it was getting cold earlier than he was accustomed to- and made the morning commute in his Chrysler 300 sedan. The drive into town passed uneventfully, and he was soon walking into red-brick building that housed Wells and Raick.

He planned to stop only long enough to grab a Bavarian cream donut on his way up to the bullpen, but saw he was not the only person working on the most important meal of the day- Lenya was also hunting through the donuts with an intent expression on her face. "[i]Guten Morgen[/i], Lenya," he called with a smile and wave. Excitement getting the better of him, he set down his Thermos long enough to open his briefcase and pull out [i]Tobin's Spirit Guide[/i] to show her. "I managed a decent find. Thought we might keep this around the office for quick reference." This was a difficult and rare find, surely a fellow bibliophile would have some enthusiasm for it. A good way to start out the day.