by R. L. King
Hello…what’s this?
Across the open space, a few feet away and snugged up against the outside wall next to one of the concrete columns, a faint blue glow could be seen. It was so faint that even looking at it directly he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t seeing things, or indulging in wishful thinking. His heartbeat picked up and so did his breathing as he switched the flashlight back on and hurried closer, then turned it off again.
The area plunged into darkness once more—except for a still faint but slightly brighter patch, about eighteen inches on a side. It looked like the kind of glow you got in the few seconds after turning off a television set, and faded depending on whether he looked at it straight on or from the corner of his eye.
Yes…please let this be what I’m looking for…
He reached up and ran his hand over the rough surface of the ceiling. It all felt uniform, without any seams or openings. Shining the flashlight on it didn’t reveal anything either—if something had been hidden in there and then plastered over, they’d done a remarkable job of hiding it. He frowned. Was he going to have to take the ceiling apart? He didn’t have the tools for that, and it would make a lot of noise that would be hard to hide.
Also, it didn’t make sense. The documents Beal had given him indicated that Goodwin had hidden the papers, but in a way that would require magic to retrieve them. Would he have blocked them away so completely? Or—
Wait.
He glanced up again.
The glow was faint, perhaps because this was just bleed-through, seeping through a seam in the rough ceiling.
What if the actual hiding space wasn’t down here, but above it? What if there were a space between the floor above and the ceiling below?
It made sense. But in order to check it, he’d need to get inside one of the apartments above. That just made things a lot harder. He shone the flashlight around again, comparing the basement walls against what he’d seen of the upper floors. If he was accurate in his assessment, the apartment in question would be the one on the left side of the house, in the area closer to the front door.
He let his breath out and turned to head back for the stairs, already going over strategies for what he’d do if anyone was home in the apartment he needed to get into.
Inside his pocket, his little radio crackled. Tensing, he pulled it out. “Did you call? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Grace’s voice sounded tentative, uncertain.
“What do you mean? I think I’ve located where I need to look. It’s in one of the ground-floor flats. I’m headed there now. What’s going on? Did you see someone?”
“No. It’s just…sort of a feeling. I can’t explain it.”
He reached the stairs and paused. “I might not be able to talk anymore once I get upstairs. Do you want me to come out there?”
“No. It’s probably nothing—just me being nervous. But I wanted to let you know, in case it’s more than that.”
“Well…just—call me back if you see anything suspicious. I’ll try to make this as fast as I can. And if you do see anything, don’t try to deal with it yourself unless you’re forced to. All right?”
“I won’t. But please hurry. I’ll feel better once we’re out of here.”
So will I. Stone stuffed the radio back in his pocket. As soon as he reached the stairs, he shut off the flashlight and worked his way back to the first floor by feel, quickly but with care. When he reached the top, he opened the door a crack and peeked out into the lobby.
It was deserted.
At least something was going his way. He quickly slipped back out, making sure the door was securely closed behind him, and crossed to the door of apartment 1A. Yes, this was definitely the one that corresponded to the glow downstairs. Somewhere in the front part of the apartment, near the exterior wall.
He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He had no idea what he’d say if someone answered—he had to hope his improv skills hadn’t deserted him.
But no one answered. He knocked again just to make sure, waiting a full minute. About thirty seconds in, a chill ran through him as he remembered something Jason had pointed out when they were breaking into Elias Richter’s rented mansion in Woodside last year: he hadn’t even considered that there might be a security camera, and that all his actions so far had been recorded. Stupid! Maybe that plan to take up cat burglaring might not be such a good one after all.
He was lucky this time, though: a quick visual sweep of the lobby area showed no sign of any cameras. Sure, it could be hidden, but he didn’t think a borderline-dodgy apartment building would bother with that kind of subterfuge to make sure nobody nicked the residents’ FedEx packages. He’d have to take the chance.
Nobody had answered his knock yet, and nobody else showed up in the lobby. It was now or never. He pulled a pair of thin black gloves from his pocket and slipped them on, then used magic to flip 1A’s lock. It was much easier this time, since it wasn’t pitted with decades’ worth of rust.
Two seconds later, he was inside the apartment with the door locked behind him. He thought about engaging the security chain to give him more time to get out if the resident came home, but decided against it. On the plus side, the fact that it wasn’t engaged could mean the occupants weren’t home, rather than just deeply asleep.
He didn’t turn on the flashlight; enough moonlight filtered in through the open window to make sure he could get around without tripping over anything. He crept across the living room, mindful of every creak of the old wooden floor, moving in the direction of where he’d seen the glow down below. Ahead was a short hall, and the doorway to the left appeared to be the one he wanted.
Something hit the floor behind him with a soft whump! and he whirled, nearly jumping in alarm. A small, four-legged figure trotted up to him and wound around his ankles.
Bloody hell, it’s just a cat. Stay calm. He crouched down to scratch it behind its ears and then hurried through the doorway.
The room was a tiny kitchen, barely larger than a kitchenette. Stone carefully stepped around the two-person table in the middle of the floor as the cat leaped up on it and watched him with curiosity. He wondered if the beasts had some kind of communication network: now that he had one living in his house, had the message gone out to the rest of them that he was a soft touch?
He didn’t have time for this. Grace might think whatever uneasy feeling she’d gotten was nothing to worry about, but he wasn’t so sure. She seemed unusually sensitive to that kind of thing. Best to get out of here as fast as he could.
He switched magical sight back on, and immediately spotted the blue glow again. The good news was, it was brighter now, which lent credence to his theory that the actual entry point to the magical hidey-hole was here, not in the basement.
The bad news was, the glow crept out from beneath the refrigerator.
“Well, damn,” he whispered. This would be harder—and take longer—than he’d hoped.
First, he had to know for sure that nobody was home. If the occupant was away, he could get away with making a bit more noise. He exited the kitchen and walked to the end of the hall, where there were two more doors. Both were closed.
He nudged open the first one: a bathroom. Good. That meant the other one had to be the tiny apartment’s bedroom. He turned the knob silently and pushed it a few inches into the room, magical sight active.
The bed was empty. He saw no sign of an aura.
Shoulders slumping in relief, he closed the door and hurried back to the kitchen. The cat still sat on the table as if waiting for him to come back and get on with it.
The room was so small that in order to have enough room to do what he needed to do, he’d have to arrange things carefully. With one wave of his hand, he sent the tiny table across the floor until it was against the wall. With a second wave, both chairs floated up and settled on the table top, startlin
g the cat into leaping down. At least whoever lived here was relatively neat, so he didn’t have to worry about moving drifts of dishes or stacks of papers.
All right—only one more thing to do. Moving with more care than he had with the table, he levitated the refrigerator an inch off the floor and moved it outward until it reached the end of its cord’s length. Good—there was enough room so he wouldn’t have to unplug it, but it would be a tight fit to get in there.
He shifted back to magical sight.
And there it is.
The space beneath the refrigerator, a foot and a half or so out from the wall, glowed brightly blue. Now that he could actually see it, he could make out a definite rectangular shape, with odd runes etched around its edges.
He leaned in, tilting his head so he could get the best angle on them. As he suspected, they were runes of protection and concealment—even with the ley line he knew ran through the area, it was amazing that they were still so effective after all this time. One or more of the Goodwins must have been master mages.
That could be a problem, though—he could see the runes and the border delineating where the hiding place was, but what he didn’t see was any seams, loose floorboards, or other ways to get inside it. Was the enchantment there simply to conceal it, or had they actually done something to make it impossible to access without some kind of magical key? He realized he’d been assuming the former (or at least hoping for it) but now he wasn’t so sure.
The radio crackled in his pocket again. Without taking his eyes off the runes, he pulled it out. “What is it?”
“The feeling’s getting stronger, Dr. Stone.” Grace definitely sounded nervous now. “Something’s happening. I’m not sure what, but I’m sure I can feel it. And I just saw somebody go inside the house. How much longer?”
“I’ll hurry. I’ve found it, but I need to—”
From the front room came the sound of a key rattling in the lock.
Chapter Forty-Six
Damn, damn, damn!
“Someone’s coming in,” Stone whispered into the radio. “Can’t talk.”
He glanced wildly around the kitchen, looking for a place to hide. He could use the disregarding spell or even invisibility to avoid being seen, but the kitchen and the hallway outside it were both so small and cramped that if the occupant decided to come this way, he’d likely be discovered by being bumped into.
Quickly, he moved the refrigerator, table, and chairs back into position, then hurried to the farthest back corner of the kitchen and waited.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor, getting closer.
The cat came out from under the table and approached Stone. He waved it off, keeping his gaze fixed on the doorway as he brought up his invisibility spell and powered it with another of his crystals.
A figure appeared in the doorway and flipped on the overhead light. It was a young woman, a little older than Grace, dressed in a businesslike white blouse and gray pencil skirt. She went to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle, and smiled down at the orange cat, who’d abandoned Stone and was now winding around the newcomer’s legs. “Did you miss me, fuzzybutt?”
Stone crouched in his corner, certain the woman could hear his breathing and the pounding of his heart. Either that, or the cat would take renewed interest in him and rat out his position.
The woman crossed to a cabinet, not two feet away from Stone’s hiding place, and pulled out a can. For the next few seconds, she busied herself opening it and dishing up a meal for the cat, who was by now attempting to climb her legs.
“Hold on, hold on!” she said, laughing. “You’d think I was trying to starve you!” Then, to Stone’s horror, she walked directly toward him carrying the empty can. Only then did he realize he was standing in front of the kitchen trash.
He was just about to see if he could shuffle to the side without attracting her attention when there was a knock on the door.
The woman looked startled. Clearly she wasn’t expecting any visitors so late in the evening. She set the can down and hurried out of the kitchen. A moment later, Stone heard the door open and a klunk as it hit the end of the security chain.
Then, amazingly, he heard a familiar voice. “I’m so sorry to bother you this late,” Grace said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. “I live just down the street, and my little dog got out when I opened my door. I saw him running around toward this area, so I wanted to check if you’ve seen him.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” the woman said. “I haven’t seen any loose dogs tonight, but maybe you can put up a notice on the—”
Stone wasn’t listening anymore. He’d have to act fast—the only problem was, he still didn’t know how to get into the magically protected cache. With no seam or hinge or loose floorboard, the hiding place must have either been designed so it would be difficult to get into, or there had to be some magical trigger to trip an unseen lock. But what could it be? Would he have to come back tomorrow when the woman wasn’t here and tear up the floor?
Think! Out front, Grace was still chattering on about her dog—Stone caught the words “Chihuahua” and “sweetheart” and “since I was a teenager”—and for whatever reason, the woman hadn’t slammed the door in her face yet. She’s buying you time—use it!
His mind returned to the documents Beal had given him. This house had been passed from one Goodwin to the next—it has been their family home for at least half a century. What would they use as a trigger to open a magically hidden storage area? It was probably something that meant something to all of them—a snatch of a song, a shared phrase…
And then he had it. Of course!
He moved fast, quickly sweeping the table and chairs out of the way and lifting the refrigerator back to where he’d moved it before. Every couple seconds he glanced toward the door to make sure the woman wasn’t approaching, but he could still hear her and Grace out front.
Hoping he wasn’t wrong, he shifted back to magical sight, leaned over to focus on the rune-framed rectangle, and muttered, “In hoc signo vincit”—the Goodwin family’s motto.
The runes flared and the illusion faded, revealing a rectangular space in the floor with a clear seam around it and a tiny recession, just big enough to get a finger into.
Yes!
With one last glance toward the doorway, hardly daring to breathe, Stone used magic to lift the cover.
Beneath it was an object about the size and shape of a large book, wrapped in oilcloth. Stone snatched it up, put the cover back, and repeated the phrase. The seam faded and the runes reappeared. As soon as he got the package clear of the nook, it too began to glow with magical power.
Stone frowned, staring at it. How was that possible? If the documents were simply an account of how the Goodwins had dealt with Archie, why was it emitting magic—and unwholesome magic at that?
He didn’t have time to deal with it now. Getting out of here was his number-one priority.
“Well, thank you so much!” Grace was saying loudly in the front room. “I really appreciate your help!”
“No problem. I hope you find him!” the woman said, and the door closed.
Stone waved his hands like an orchestra conductor, settling the fridge back into position and the chairs on the floor. Stuffing the parcel into his bag, he recast the invisibility spell and just barely made it free of the kitchen before the woman returned.
Grateful that he was thin, he flattened himself against the wall just past the kitchen doorway and remained there until the woman disappeared back inside, the orange cat trotting after her. He didn’t want to use another spell, but had to risk it; he couldn’t take the chance of stepping on one of the creaking floorboards and attracting her attention, so he levitated a couple inches off the floor and zipped toward the door. No helping the security chain—perhaps she’d think she’d left it unhooked after Grace left. He opened it, darted b
ack out into the lobby, and closed it silently behind him. Grace was nowhere to be seen.
For a moment, he just leaned against the wall, puffing and waiting for his heartbeat to slow. That had been close!
But it didn’t matter now. He clutched the leather messenger bag in triumph. He had it! Now all he’d have to do was get it back home and spend the rest of the night poring over it. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight, but he didn’t care. It was all he could do not to pull the thing out now and find out what was causing the unhealthy magical glow, right here in the lobby.
Instead, he hurried outside, looking up and down the street. Grace was waiting for him near the driveway. He strode over to her and pulled her into a hard hug.
“That was bloody brilliant!” he said, grinning. “An Oscar-worthy performance!” Then, realizing that perhaps hugging almost-nuns wasn’t the proper thing for unmarried men his age to do, he quickly let her go.
She didn’t seem to mind. “I’m so glad it worked. I was so scared! Please tell me you found what you were looking for.”
He raised the bag. “Found and secured.”
“Good. I want to get out of here. I still think something’s wrong.”
“Let’s go, then. I’ll drop you off at your place, and I want to get to this right away.”
Stone kept magical sight up and paid more attention than usual to their surroundings as they walked at a brisk pace back toward the car. He still wasn’t convinced that Grace wasn’t simply suffering from nerves—he doubted she’d ever been involved in something like this (aside from her brother and the demon, at least) prior to meeting him, and it wouldn’t be at all unusual for her to be suffering from a bit of delayed-action PTSD after what had happened at Mr. Juarez’s home the other night. Still, her instincts were good—possibly better than his about things like this. A little extra vigilance wouldn’t be too much to ask.
A corner of his mind was already going over what he planned to do with the rest of the night. Of course, it was possible what he’d found wasn’t what he’d expected to find. Even if it was magical in nature, it might be something else completely—perhaps a valuable old grimoire belonging to the Goodwins. Interesting, absolutely, but not helpful in his current situation. Even if the package did contain Robert Goodwin’s write-up of their encounter with Archie, there was no guarantee it would do Stone any good in getting rid of the demon now. But at this point any additional information he could get would be more than he had. He just had to get Grace safely home and then he was free to examine it. He could see the car now, just across the park. Soon, they’d be—
