Beacon's Hope (Potomac Shadows Book 2)
Page 24
I kept it up, though I tapped into the ley threads we had brought along for strength. In due course, I had dug a hole about the width of my hand in to the floor, that went down just past the length of the gardening spade.
With Charity’s encouragement, I widened the hole and kept at it, tossing the dug-up dirt into the nearby corner, creating a satisfying heap of dirt in the process.
Just as I was about to suggest that maybe whatever she had buried had been found by someone else at some point in the past, my spade clunked into something hard and definitely not ground-like. I gasped and sensed Charity’s excitement grow.
Quickly, I used the spade to dig around until I found an edge, and then from there it was a simple matter to dig around the box and find all four edges.
The box was about the size of a shoebox, made of various woods with metal fittings and corners. I dug around it enough to wedge the spade in and sort of work it back and forth to extricate it from the dirt.
Once it was free of the earth, I pulled it onto my lap, tossed the spade aside, and brushed the dirt off the box as best I could. I rotated it in my hands so that the small key lock faced me, and then I rested my hands on top of it. “This is it, isn’t it, Charity?”
My God, I haven’t seen this box in over two hundred years. The surprise in her tone was evident. It looks just like it did the day I buried it.
I glanced at the little lock. “Any idea what happened to the key?”
Hah. The ley threads are the key. As she said that, I felt her reach out with one such thread, adjusting the tip of it into the shape of a key.
She inserted the thread into the lock and there was a little spark of blue energy. The lock popped open and the lid of the box rose up just enough for me to slip a fingernail into it and pull up. The lid swung up easily, revealing a folded piece of cream-colored linen, embroidered with delicate green and yellow flowers.
That was my swaddling blanket. For my daughter.
I raised an eyebrow as I rested my hand on the supple fabric. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
I said good-bye to her the night I ‘died’ and entered the journal. Someday I’ll look into her history and her life.
The sadness in her tone broke my heart. I reverently pulled the cloth out of the box and placed it in my satchel.
Moving the cloth revealed a wooden inlaid tray, filled with assorted trinkets—a gold pocket watch, several sewing needles, bone and wooden buttons, a small metal flask, and some other items I didn’t recognize. “You want all of this, right?”
Yes, if I may have a place to store it at your home.
I nodded. “I’m sure I can find a spot for all of it.” I transferred each item out of the box and into a cloth bag in my satchel. Charity and I would figure out what to do with it all later.”
Now, with that done, you just have to remove the tray. The last of my things in this cache of supplies is beneath.
“Okay.” I caught the hushed tone and didn’t know what to expect. I pulled the tray aside and stared down into two neat rows of thick gold coins, filling the bottom of the box. I whistled low under my breath and fished out one of the coins. “My God, Charity. What is all this?”
Some of the money my family and I were able to collect over the years, mostly from me working as a Beacon and earning and learning along the way. Most of the collection consists of Spanish and Dutch coins, with a few other nationalities thrown in.
“Uh…all gold?” My eyes and mind were a-glitter.
Yes.
“Do you have any idea what these are worth?”
Not at all. I assume gold has appreciated in the intervening years.
I gulped. “I’ve never thought to check, but yeah, I think so.” I made a rough count. “You have close to a hundred coins in here, Charity. I don’t know what gold values are, but I’m guessing we’re looking at a small fortune here.” I could barely keep the excitement out of my voice.
Can we find out how much? Is there an appraiser you trust?
I thought about it, then shrugged. “We can probably find one easily enough. I bet my Grandpa knows someone.”
Will he help us?
I nodded. “I’m sure he will.” I reached in to pick up the coins, but then paused. “Wait a minute, Charity. This is a lot of money. I can’t just show up at home one day with thousands of dollars worth of gold coins. That’ll draw someone’s suspicions instantly.”
What can we do? I’m confident we can put this money to better use than to just have it sit here in the Holding.
About a million possible uses for it came to mind, but I shoved those thoughts to the side. “Maybe we can talk to Grandpa, see if we can make this look like a family set, an heirloom, that I inherited. We’ll have to be careful or the tax guys will want to get their hands on it.”
I nodded, then pulled out another cloth bag from my satchel. “Let’s get it out of her and into the house first. Then we’ll figure it out. It’s not like we can spend it in its current form, anyway.”
Can we make use of this, Rachel?
I nodded. “Oh yes. I had no idea how lucky I’d be encountering you, Charity. When Miss Chin handed you to me a couple weeks ago, I didn’t know what to expect. You’ve shown me so much kindness and generosity. I can’t thank you enough.”
I am happy to help, Rachel. We Beacons must support each other, in whatever way we can.
“I can support that.” I smiled and filled the bag with ancient gold. In spite of the Spinner’s threats, the ‘geists, the mysterious Detective Bello, and the suspicions I felt about Miss Chin, things were looking up. The next few months were going to be interesting, for sure.
Author’s Note
Thanks so much for picking up this book and trying it out. If you enjoyed reading this story, please consider leaving an honest review and rating on Amazon.com. Until a better system comes along, word-of-mouth and a body of reviews remain the most effective means of discoverability for books and writers.
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I trust you enjoyed your time peeking into the shadows, and truly hope you’ll return.
Jim Johnson
October 2016
Alexandria, VA
Acknowledgments
As with any book, it took a team to put this one together, and this is where I get to thank those responsible for helping me bring this one to you. First, huge thanks to my editor Erica Satifka, who provided her usual brilliant insight on the manuscript and helped make this a much stronger story. Huge thanks to my cover artist, Lou Harper, who patiently worked through my many notes and delivered three great covers for the trilogy. And thanks to my fellow Literary Outlaw and friend, Kevin G. Summers, for preparing the layout for the print edition and offering sound advice along the way.
To all the beta readers who read this manuscript in its various formats—thank you for your comments. I didn’t use all of them, but you all helped make this a much better book.
Thanks also to the members and participants of various and sundry writing groups and discussion forums out there on the wild world interwebs, notably the Writer’s Cafe at www.kboards.com, the members of my private Pulp Speeders group, the 20booksto50k crew, and countless other writers and readers who I’ve interacted with over the years. I’ve learned from you all, whether you knew it or not.
Finally, huge thanks to my baby son Jacob for providing laughs and smiles all through the production of this book, and to my wife Damaris, without whose support and encouragement I would not have gotten this book finished, much less published.
About the Author
Jim Johnson is the author of the POTOMAC SHADOWS urban fantasy series and the PISTOLS AND PYRAMIDS fantasy western series, as well as other fiction series under development. He has written sundry other stories, including several published in the Star Trek universe, and has written material for pen and paper roleplaying game companies, including Modiphius, Decipher, and White Wolf.
Please visit www.SCRIBEINETI.com for more information on Jim and his interests and writing.
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Jim lives in historic Alexandria, VA with his wife, son, and several crazy cats. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen any ghosts around town. Might just have to look harder.
Also by Jim Johnson
PISTOLS AND PYRAMIDS
Ranger of Mayat
Flight to the Fort
House of the Healer
Omnibus 1: The Bloody Frontier
POTOMAC SHADOWS
Beacon’s Spark
Beacon’s Hope
Beacon’s Fury
The Fine Print
Copyright © 2016 by Jim Johnson
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please write to the publisher at the address below.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead; events; or locales is entirely coincidental. Whether the Veil and the Holding are real is for the Awakened and the dead to decide.
Version 1.3 (July 2017)
www.POTOMACSHADOWS.com
Cover artistry by Lou Harper (www.louharper.com)
Print layout by Kevin G. Summers (www.happycatstudios.com)
Editing by Erica Satifka (www.ericasatifka.com)
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