by Sonya Clark
Judith rolled her eyes. “Please. This is Knox we’re talking about.”
“So all he needs is a buyer,” Chet said. “Damn that kid! What possessed him to mess with something so dangerous?”
“I can’t imagine.” Judith looked almost wistful.
“Excuse me,” Eve interjected. “What’s in the box? I mean, it was so important to Mrs. Delafield that it be delivered here, I don’t understand why her own grandson would steal it. Her lawyer even told me that if he’d shown up for the funeral, he would have been the one to bring the box here.”
They exchanged another look. The director inclined her head at Chet, as if giving him permission to be the one to speak.
“It’s a book,” he said, expression grim.
“A book?” Eve was incredulous. “What’s so dangerous about a book?”
Judith laughed. Ignoring her, Chet said, “It’s a very old book. A grimoire. Do you know what that is?”
Memories of haunting certain types of websites, full of flaming pentacle graphics and pseudo Celtic midi music, filled Eve’s thoughts. “A type of spell book.”
“This particular grimoire is hundreds of years old and was designed for a terrible purpose.”
Eve recalled the conversation in the elevator. “A Key of Darkness? That’s what they called it.”
He nodded once. “The spells and rituals contained in that grimoire are designed to call forth a demon. A creature of such darkness, it could do incalculable damage on this plane.”
“Apparently Pete called it a supernatural loose nuke,” Judith said.
“Pete’s right!” Blue eyes darkening, Chet waved a hand. “That box gets opened, or that grimoire falls into the wrong hands, the body count will start in the hundreds.”
Eve suddenly felt far away, as if listening to this strange conversation from across a deep chasm. Grimoires and demons and secret institutes of the occult? And wizards – don’t forget that. Learning about her psychic ability, even finding acceptance for it, those were things she wanted. Finding herself in the midst of people who sounded like live action role players who forgot to take their meds – that was definitely not something she wanted.
“We’ve got to find Knox Delafield, and fast,” Chet said. “And when we do, I’m going to let Pete and Sanngrid take turns beating some sense into him.”
Cutting in to the conversation again, she said, “I’d like to go home. Could someone call me a cab?”
With a look of surprise Judith said, “We can have a driver take you. If you’re sure that’s what you really want.”
“Well why wouldn’t it be what I want? It’s been a terrible day and I’m exhausted.” And quite eager to be back in the land of Normal.
Judith gave Eve a long appraising look. Then she rose and walked to her desk, speaking quietly into the phone.
Eve glanced at Chet. He stared back with a furrowed brow. Irritated, Eve tried to be gracious. “Good luck finding your book.”
Judith said, “Eve, thank you for your help. We’re very sorry about all this, I hope it hasn’t been too traumatic an evening for you. Sanngrid will escort you to a car which will take you home.”
Guess they want me gone in a hurry. A strange reluctance slowed Eve as she made her way to the door. She wanted to leave, but she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to ask questions, but wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answers. Confusion twisted inside her. She paused to look back at the director of the Bradbury Institute and its head of Archives, finding them watching her expectantly. Not knowing what else to say, Eve mumbled a quick goodbye and let herself be escorted out.
Chapter 6
Eve stood in the middle of her apartment. She didn’t own much but every bit of it was new. Mass-produced, generic, impersonal. Nothing that might hold strong enough impressions for her to read with a simple unfocused touch. That’s how she’d always wanted it, to protect herself from being inundated with leftovers from the past, images and emotions and sensations that sometimes threatened to overwhelm her sense of the present. Staying firmly grounded had always been the best way for her to not be swept away by this strange ability.
It had a name, of course. Psychometry – the psychic reading of objects. Not that Eve had ever called herself a psychometrist or a psychic or anything remotely like that. If she thought of herself in those terms at all it was simply as a reader. Mostly she tried not to think about it and went to painstaking lengths to hide it.
Dropping into the plain microfiber sofa, she picked up the TV remote and turned it over in her hands. It told her nothing. That was supposed to be comforting since she wasn’t always able to control how well or how loud she received. Today that silence was a cold comfort, hollow and empty. She’d spent so much time hiding what she could do she’d almost forgotten how curious she used to be about it. At one time she had devoted hours to researching anything related to psychic gifts, poring over funky websites and dusty library books. Never once had she met another person with similar gifts, or even someone likely to accept hers.
Until last night at the Bradbury Institute. And like an idiot she’d panicked and run. Recalling the look on Rami’s face when told of a supernatural loose nuke (she could not get that phrase out of her head) she thought running was probably the smart decision. Eve had no illusions about herself. Just because she could read objects didn’t mean she was some super-powered kick-ass girl with leather pants and a tramp stamp. She wished them luck finding and containing that grimoire, but there was nothing she could do to help. Danger was so not her middle name.
But might they let her visit the institute anyway? Might they be willing to answer some of her questions about this gift of hers? Rami had certainly seemed nice. The director had been welcoming. Okay, yes, Mr. Bad Attitude and the handsome fellow with the Russian last name were a little intense. If the situation with the stolen grimoire was as serious as they suggested they had good reason to be intense. They hadn’t treated her like a freak, or like she was an intruder who didn’t belong. She’d insisted on sitting in the front with the driver on the way home last night and paid attention, so she was positive she could find the institute again. Maybe she could just show up, find out if they had a psychics department as well as an archive and whatever they called where Rami and any other wizards worked.
Doubt warred with desire. It was clear they knew what she could do but no invitation had been extended. Surely it would be foolish of her to just show up at the gate. They probably wouldn’t even speak to her. Besides, she had nothing to contribute. Why should they let her in the door when she wanted information from them but had nothing to offer in return?
Frustration ate at her until she could no longer stand to look at the same boring white walls. Pulling on a light jacket, she left the apartment and walked with no destination. Brisk late summer air blew her long blonde hair around her in streamers. Maneuvering through the busy Saturday crowds with relative ease, Eve tried to focus on her week off before starting a new temp job. There hadn’t been time to make travel plans, but surely she could find something to do in the city. The art museum, for one. Catch a movie or two. Obsess over a dangerous grimoire and an institute dedicated to the occult.
The sign for Attic Full O’ Treasures caught her eye. Eve slowed, then stopped, then resumed walking. Then she said to hell with it and crossed against the light to reach the antique store. Nervous energy ping-ponged through her body as she entered the shop. Pushing her hair out of her face, she glanced around to survey the treasures. Lots of glass and dishes in the front, furniture in the back, and a middle section full of all sorts of various things. Her eyes lit on an object that intrigued her.
It was a handheld mirror made of polished silver, a small corner of the glass missing. Eve tapped her fingers on the table around it, then traced a pattern with her index finger. She’d been curious about the box she’d been tasked with delivering to Bradbury and tried to read it. Hadn’t succeeded, true, but she knew now that meant the box had been shielded. This mirror would not be,
so why not pick it up and see what she could find out about it?
Before she could think about it any further she grabbed it, pretending to examine the curlicue pattern on the silver back. A subtle whiff of perfume came to her, a gentle rushing in her ears that might have been voices. Turning it over, she met her own gaze in the mirror for only a moment before her visage was replaced with that of another woman. Chestnut curls framed delicate features, a face out of time. The rushing broke down into distinct sounds, music and a man’s voice. The woman laughed, a flirtatious gleam in her gray eyes, and the vision vanished.
“Can I help you, miss?”
Eve snapped into the present, replacing the mirror on the table. An older woman stood to her left, looking at her expectantly. Struggling to focus, Eve shook her head. “No ma’am. I’m just browsing.”
The woman spoke again but Eve barely heard her. She wanted to touch everything in the store. She was tired of holding back, tired of restricting herself to things with no resonance, no meaning. Tired of telling herself the only thing truly remarkable about her was something that should be hidden. Eve stayed in the antique store until she’d practically exhausted herself from reading. By the time she left, she had a pounding headache and a determination to go back to Bradbury.
Stepping off the elevator on her floor, Eve halted at the sight of a bouquet of flowers left at her door. Tulips, her favorite, in a rich dark purple. Not possible. But she knew exactly who they were from.
She ripped open the note.
Dear Miss Kane,
I must inform you I am besieged by thoughts of stroking your naked body with the petals of these very flowers. I can only hope I’ve now put the same thoughts in your head.
Lustfully yours.
Eve rolled her eyes. There was no signature. Knox Delafield didn’t know she knew his identity. Either that or he didn’t want to incriminate himself. Did he still have the grimoire? And the ring Rebecca had left her, could she get it back?
Eve took the flowers into her apartment, finding a vase for them. If she left now she could make it to Bradbury just before dark. Shoving the note in her purse, she found the letter from Rebecca Delafield that was supposed to accompany the box. Feeling absurd for neglecting to give it to the director, Eve was nonetheless glad to find it now. It would be her ticket past the gate.
Offering herself up as bait to catch a thief and hopefully retrieve that supernatural loose nuke – well, she had a two hour drive to let that idea stew in the back of her brain.
Chapter 7
Pete Cadkin made his way from his office to the Oracle, the café tucked into the far end of the north wing of Bradbury. Few people were present as evening approached, since it was a Saturday night. Core staff were the only ones left on the weekends. As head of Security, Pete never left unless a situation called for heavy muscle. That was just how he liked it, too. There was nothing for him beyond the institute campus.
Retrieving the Key of Darkness was likely going to require muscle. As soon as they got a lead on Knox Delafield’s whereabouts, Pete would be on his way. If the Key’s transfer had been handled the way he’d wanted, it would be safe and sound in the Archives’ vault right now. For some stupid reason, Judith had refused to let him escort the grimoire and Rebecca Delafield’s personal assistant. Some nonsense about how he might scare the girl, and Judith didn’t want that because she had some gift or other and might decide to learn about it at the institute. Truthfully, Pete had kind of ignored everything after the word no. Judith ran the place as she saw fit and he wasn’t going to argue too much. Not as long as he wanted to stay.
That personal assistant, Eve Something or Other, hadn’t shown the slightest bit of fear. She’d held herself together with the aplomb of a person long used to playing it close to the vest. Pete could easily recognize that, what with his long years of experience doing the same. He could respect it, too.
What he didn’t like was the way her mouth lingered in his thoughts, and those green eyes like a pool of something clear and clean that a man would be glad to fall in to. Tasting her full lips, swimming in her depths - those weren’t luxuries he could allow himself.
He entered the café, spotting Chet at a table covered with notebooks and a laptop. The smell of food drew him to the kitchen first.
The Oracle manager, Devin Kelly, greeted him with a nod. “There’s pasta if you’re hungry.” She gestured vaguely at the large industrial fridge.
“What’s cooking?” Pasta sounded good but if it was already in the fridge, that wasn’t what he was smelling.
“Maura’s got some herb bread in the oven.”
He took a deep breath. “That’s gonna be worth the late night.” Not that he slept much, but Maura’s cooking was worth losing sleep over. “She make the pasta?”
Devin nodded, her face darkening. Pete ignored her and made a plate, warming it in the microwave. Eating as he walked, he joined Chet in the dining room.
“Maura must be in the kitchen again,” Chet said by way of greeting.
Pete nodded. “She’s got bread in the oven.”
Chet sucked in a deep breath. “Oh, God. The herb bread that’s so good?”
After swallowing a mouthful Pete replied. “Think I’ll make some coffee after I eat.” He took a smaller bite, then asked, “Any luck?”
“With finding Knox or finding out more about the Key?”
“Either.”
“Nope.”
“We know what we need to know about the Key. It’s dangerous and can’t be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Exactly what it calls up doesn’t even matter right now.”
Chet sat back and dropped his pen. “Doesn’t matter? How can you say that?”
“Doesn’t matter right now. Finding Knox is the priority. We find his punk ass and take the Key away from him, we won’t have to worry about what the damn book is designed to call forth.”
“Or who. Look, Knox Delafield is a delicate situation.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “If by that you mean he’s a spoiled brat.”
Chet shrugged. “And he’s also someone Judith happens to be very fond of. She’s not going to let you treat this like a military operation. This is going to require some finesse.”
Dropping his fork, Pete pushed the plate away. “I got too much, you want it?” Chet nodded, taking the plate. Pete said, “It’s not like I hurt people for fun. But I do think a nice solid beating would do that kid some good.”
“Or we could try an old fashioned honey trap.”
Pete eyed him suspiciously, then followed Chet’s gaze to the doorway. “I’ll be damned.”
Judith was there – with Eve Something or Other.
****
Eve followed Judith to the table, greeting Chet and Mr. Bad Attitude as they rose politely to their feet.
Chet said, “I’m surprised to see you here again so soon, Miss Kane.”
“But delighted,” Judith said with a smile. “Eve remembered there was also a letter in the safe deposit box from Rebecca to me, so she very thoughtfully drove all this way to deliver it.”
“I felt bad about forgetting it last night,” Eve said as she settled into her seat.
Chet moved a laptop and binder to a nearby table to make room, leaving a mostly empty plate of food and a glass of wine. “Can’t blame you for forgetting, what with the night you had.” Addressing Judith he said, “Does the letter have anything helpful in it?”
Her autumn hair swayed as she shook her head. “No, it was mostly personal. Which makes me even more grateful to Eve for bringing it.”
Rebecca Delafield’s funeral had been a large society affair, with more people in attendance than Eve had been able to keep up with. Still, she felt sure she would have noticed Judith Templeton, or any of the others she’d met here at Bradbury so far. They were not people that blended into the wallpaper. She’d seen none of them at the services, yet apparently there had been something of a close relationship. And Knox – why didn’t Mrs. D’s own grandson
attend? Was it because he was planning to steal the…the Key of Darkness, as they’d called it, all along?
“It scared me,” Eve whispered. She hadn’t meant to let the words slip out. They stared at her, Chet chewing his pasta slowly as if it were some rare and exotic meal. So much had been running through Eve’s head and if she was going to get it out, even part of it, she would need a little courage. Not caring who the wine belonged to, she grabbed the glass and emptied it in one long swallow. She caught the look the two men exchanged but chose to ignore it.
“What scared you, Eve?” Judith watched her with care, obviously taking in details. Not judging her exactly, but close.
Eve made an effort to calm her heart rate, then cleared her throat. “The Key. I’ve never felt anything like that.”
“You said it burned to the touch, and you saw a blood-covered book.” Chet leaned back to place his now empty plate on the other table. “What else can you tell us about your impressions of it?”
“Those are the only real facts I can tell you. Anything else, well, it’s subjective, I guess.”
“Believe me, we’re used to subjective. Just tell us whatever you can, even if you don’t think it’s relevant.” His blue eyes were almost electric in their intensity.
Eve swallowed the last of her reserve. “When I touch something and I, I read it, for lack of a better term, it can be different. I mean, sometimes I see things, or hear things. Emotions can come through. Occasionally I get a combination of things. Oh, and sometimes I smell things too. When I held the box in my lap and tried to see what was in it, I saw the blood covered book, like I told you. I felt a sensation of heat, first mentally and then physically wherever the box was touching me. I could feel something pushing me away. I guess that was the warding you mentioned. But there was something else, too.”
She paused, the dreams that had kept her up the night before paying another call. Blood and darkness with a suffocating sense of dread, as if she would never feel anything clean against her skin again. Never feel safe again. “It felt like nothing good existed. Like there was just…just every dark and negative thing you can imagine. And it was choking me. Choking the life out of me and I had no power to stop it.”
