Deadly Curiosities

by Gail Z. Martin

  Harrison’s position as a ship’s captain was the legitimate side to his family’s shipping business.

  Smuggling was the underside of that trade, and what kept a difficult industry profitable. Rum, tobacco, stowaways, and other illegal cargo paid the bills and the enormous cost of upkeep. That meant trading with an unsavory set of partners, the type a gentleman would commonly deny. From that standpoint, bringing back some flotsam for Jeremiah Abernathy must have looked like a bonus, free money for scooping up some pieces from the Cristobal’s wreckage.

  Then Abernathy decided to eliminate witnesses.

  The sea churned beneath the ship, with waves rising high into the air, then crashing down onto the deck with force enough to splinter masts. Each wave that pounded the Lady Jane’s deck swept sailors overboard. Desperate men lashed themselves to the rail. Even then, the sea cheated, sending wave after wave of suffocating, freezing seawater to nearly drown those that were not swept away, or break their bodies when their lifeline kept them rigid against its force.

  Harrison made his way back to the bridge. Another wave swept across the Lady Jane’s deck, and Harrison nearly lost his grip on the railing. He was soaked to the skin, teeth chattering against the wind.

  The green mist shrouded them from seeing anything, isolating them on the vast, roiling sea.

  The water picked Harrison up like an empty bottle and flung him down the deck, smashing him against the base of one of the masts. He struggled to his feet, dragging himself up against the wind, and held on as another wave rose high over the deck and slammed into them once more. Men, rope, tools and anything not nailed to the boards stood a good chance of being thrown into the churning sea.

  Resolute, Captain Harrison dragged himself along the railing. His right leg sent blinding pain through his body whenever he put weight on it. He was certain it had broken when he smashed against the mast.

  Staggering and limping, using his arms to haul himself down the rail, Harrison again made it to the steps, staying on his feet as the ship pitched.

  Just as Harrison reached the top of the steps, an ear-splitting crack of lighting sizzled through the driving rain, striking the top of the Lady Jane’s tallest mast, splitting it like a dry twig. The mast exploded, sending a deadly rain of wood chunks and knife-sharp splinters flying through the air. A dozen men fell, struck in the head or chest with the heavy wooden debris. More men staggered as long splinters pierced their bodies, driven through their skin like nails.

  The huge mast creaked and groaned a death cry as it toppled, bringing its sails with it, crushing men beneath the massive post, sweeping them overboard with its yardarm or tangling them in the heavy, soaked canvas of its sails.

  The wind keened through the remaining masts, and the air buzzed with the charge of the nearby lighting strikes. Harrison staggered into the bridge, facing his terrified officers.

  “We’re taking on water,” his first mate said. “You can feel it in the way she handles.”

  Harrison nodded. “Not surprised,” he replied. “She’s not as young as she used to be.” It went unsaid that neither was Harrison.

  “Do we head for the lifeboats?” one of the officers asked.

  “In this storm?” another challenged. “Might as well throw yourself into the sea.”

  Harrison kept his eyes on the sea, and on the green flashes of ungodly lightning that flared and crackled down around them. He had the look of a man steering into hell at high speed, and if the officers around him had hoped for salvation, one look at his expression stripped them of all hope.

  A wall of water rose, towering higher than the ship’s remaining masts. The wave swept the Lady Jane up with it, then dropped her into a trough as the huge wave came crashing down. The drop broke her keel, and the wave smashed what was left of her masts. The Lady Jane went quickly into the icy depths, shrouded in a green, ghostly fog, its cursed captain holding onto the wheel with a death grip as the sea claimed him for its own.

  “CASSIDY! WAKE UP! You’re shivering like you’ve been in the arctic,” Teag said. The vision left me, and I was sitting in my kitchen once more, but the cold of the merciless sea clung to me. My teeth were chattering, and I folded my arms across my chest, running my hands up and down my upper arms to warm myself.

  “Before you ask, yes, having you anchor me made a big difference. And in the future, you are more than welcome to do it anytime you’re willing.”

  Teag gave me a pitying look and went to the living room to retrieve an afghan from the couch. He wrapped it around my shoulders and went to make me a hot cup of tea. I accepted it gratefully, holding the cup in my hands and letting it warm me as I let the horror of the vision slip away.

  “Why is it you never get to see cute puppy dogs and happy bunnies?” Teag wondered.

  “I do,” I said, barely stopping my teeth from chattering. “I don’t generally need assistance with those visions.” That was the bright side of our work at Trifles and Folly. Most of the pieces we handled were boringly normal, without any resonance at all. Some held the echoes of joy and wonder, like souvenirs from bygone trips, well-traveled luggage, silver and crystal that had been wedding presents or were part of holiday celebrations for many years. Touching those items was one of the best parts of my job.

  Teag poured a cup of tea for himself and sat back as I told him about Captain Harrison and the ill-fated Lady Jane.

  “So Harrison came upon the Cristobal either as it foundered or shortly afterwards, soon enough to scoop up crates and barrels that floated to the surface,” Teag said. “I’m guessing here, but I’d bet that either Harrison had done some smuggling for Abernathy before this, or knew enough about him to think he’d pay for goods from a pirate ship.”

  I shrugged. “For all we know, the crates might even have been addressed to Abernathy.”

  Teag nodded. “Could be. So Harrison delivers the goods – but only part of what was actually onboard the Cristobal.”

  “The rest went to the bottom with the ship.”

  “Abernathy and Harrison concluded their deal, and Harrison took his ship back to sea,” Teag said. “But then Harrison sails into a strange storm, just like the Cristobal did. In fact, it’s so much like the freak storm that sank the Cristobal, Harrison gets suspicious, but it’s too late. Abernathy – or Moran, or the demon – decide Harrison is an inconvenient loose end. Conjure up a nasty storm, and sink the evidence,” Teag said, making a spiraling gesture like water going down the drain.

  “I think that’s exactly what happened,” I said.

  “What about the ledger?” Teag asked. I reached for it, but he grabbed it away.

  “Rest,” he said with a warning look. “I can read as well as you can.” I sat back, happy for the reprieve.

  Teag frowned as he scanned down the faded ink and old-style penmanship. “Offhand, I’d say it’s Captain Harrison’s log book,” he said. “Just pages torn out – but it happens to be the day they saw the Cristobal sink.”

  “What does it say?” I resisted the urge to want to see for myself. The horror of the Lady Jane’s wreck was still too close.

  “I can see why Harrison and his crew were frightened by the storm that sank them – aside from the normal human reasons to not want lightning to strike your ship or big waves wash you overboard.”

  “Harrison’s notes say he and the crew spotted a ship flying a Spanish flag on the route between Barbados and Charleston, between Bermuda and the coast. It was a good distance ahead of them, but clearly in sight.” Teag looked thoughtful as he studied the next portion of the log.

  “Harrison says that they had crossed paths with the Cristobal before, and recognized it, even at a distance. Clouds came up ‘unusually fast’ his notes add,” Teag continued. “Here’s what he says: ‘The air took on an unusual color, like the green glow of a certain fungus, a sickly, diseased color like a rotting corpse. The mist gathered all around the Cristobal, so we could scarcely make out the tip of her tallest mast. Clouds gathered, and bolts o
f lightning began to strike all around the ship, but nowhere else. All around the Lady Jane, the sky was clear and we had calm winds. This discrepancy was noted by my men, who commented on it at length and many took out charms or good luck trinkets and prayed for deliverance’.” Teag met my gaze and raised an eyebrow. “There’s more. ‘I ordered our course changed so that we did

  not steer into the same unlucky conditions as the Cristobal. Yet I wished to see if assistance would be needed.’”

  “For a pirate ship?” I said with a snort. “More like he hoped there would be cargo to loot if things went wrong.”

  Teag nodded. “I thought the motives sounded very noble. ‘We saw lightning strike the Cristobal in several places, and the sea was wild beneath her. One huge wave and one deafening peal of thunder later, and the Cristobal vanished from our sight.’”

  “Just like that,” I murmured.

  “Apparently so. Matches what I found on the Darke Web”

  I thought for a moment, sipping my tea. “Abernathy and Moran wanted what was on the Cristobal,” I continued. “Somebody hired a wizard to sink the ship. We’ll probably never know whether that person was Abernathy’s enemy or someone with a grudge against Moran or the crew of the Cristobal

  themselves. Whoever it was wanted to make sure Abernathy didn’t get what was onboard the Cristobal, but sinking the ship didn’t completely fix the problem. Some of the items washed up anyway. He couldn’t have guessed that Harrison would happen upon the wreckage and see an opportunity.”

  “Then Abernathy and Moran got rid of Harrison, figuring that eliminated a witness,” Teag said. “And they might have wanted to go back after the wreckage right then, but something else must have gone wrong. Moran disappeared and Abernathy wasn’t strong enough to control the demon himself, so his fortunes soured and the demon caused a fair bit of damage until Sorren and the others could banish it.”

  “But they didn’t destroy the demon, and they didn’t manage to banish it permanently,” I said as I absently reached down to stroke Baxter’s fur.

  “Which meant that once Moran recovered, he had a reason to come back to Charleston and bring the demon back, and he’d want the items from the Cristobal, to strengthen his control over the demon,” Teag added.

  I nodded. “That accounts for the deaths near the Navy yard.” I glanced to Teag. “Could it account for the cryptomancer? The one someone was looking for on the Darke Web? Maybe Moran needed help breaking a code on the artifacts from the Cristobal.”

  “Very likely. And if so, then the odds are good that the cryptomancer is one of the dead men,” Teag said.

  “Anything useful from Landrieu’s notes?”

  “Nothing as interesting as what Harrison describes. Most of Landrieu’s journal has notes about the dives his crew took – looking for the Cristobal, and other wrecks. Water condition and tides, longitude and latitude – the kind of stuff you’d expect.” He sighed. “Now and then, Landrieu goes on about how he hopes the Cristobal find will put his crew in the big leagues. But it all starts to change about three weeks before the dive.”

  “Oh?” I shifted in my chair and unwrapped myself from the afghan, finally warm.

  “Landrieu was afraid he was being followed. Some of their equipment got vandalized, and he started to get the feeling someone was warning him away from the Cristobal.” Teag shrugged. “Landrieu thought it was a rival dive team. And he sketched the man he saw.”

  Teag held up Landrieu’s journal. I was not surprised that the pencil sketch showed a tall man with a withered face partially hidden beneath a broad-brimmed hat.

  “Why didn’t Moran just let Landrieu’s team salvage the Cristobal and steal the stuff from them after the hard work was over?” I asked.

  “What if, over time, something about the magic changed?” Teag speculated. “Or maybe Moran got paranoid, and was afraid that whoever had the artifact might get control of the demon?” “You’ve told me what the journals say. Does your magic tell you anything else?”

  Teag thought before he replied. “It makes Landrieu’s feelings about the dive tangible. Excitement, and then suspicion, and at the end, fear. I think Landrieu knew something bad was after them. He just didn’t realize how bad.”

  “So Moran called up some kind of dark magic to destroy Landrieu and the crew of the Privateer. Did you think he was paranoid enough to believe Landrieu was working for Sorren?”

  Teag shrugged. “It’s possible. Moran and Sorren have a history. And from Moran’s point of view, Landrieu was going after something he wanted. He might have thought Sorren put him up to it.”

  Until now, Baxter had been happy to curl up under the table around our feet. Without warning, he jumped up and raced out to the front door. His bark was so loud and shrill, I thought my ears would bleed.

  Since the ‘front’ door on my Charleston single house really looks out on the piazza and garden, I had to go to the side window to see the street. Chuck Pettis was out there, and he was facing down an akvenon

  minion.

  I didn’t take time to think about it. I threw open the door and ran the length of the piazza.

  “Chuck! Hurry!” I shouted.

  The akvenon swiveled to glare at me, and from its baleful look, I knew that Teag and I were the real reason it was stalking my street. Chuck glanced at the open door and made a run for it, moving faster than I expected. The akvenon followed, growling and snapping at his heels. I suspected that the creature didn’t really want Chuck: it wanted a way into the house to get at Teag and me. It was about to get a surprise when it hit Lucinda’s wardings.

  And if Chuck wasn’t on the up-and-up, he’d be just as surprised.

  Chuck sprinted for the door, with the akvenon close on his heels. The demon minion sprang at Chuck, launching its squat, misshapen body into the air. I ran forward, but Teag caught me by the arm before I could step beyond the warding.

  Chuck wheeled, leveling a boxy device that looked like a souped-up TV remote control at the akvenon, and stood his ground. I expected to see a flash of a laser or hear an ear-splitting squeal. I heard nothing.

  But the akvenon did.

  The demon spawn minion dropped to the ground, shaking violently. Its squashed head swiveled one way and then the other, as its lantern-jawed maw snapped in fury at the air.

  Chuck didn’t prolong the standoff. He gave the minion one last blast from his weapon and practically dove across my threshold.

  It didn’t take the akvenon long to react. Howling and snarling, it reared up on its clawed feet and bounded for the doorway like a mutant Doberman. I slammed the door, waiting for the bulky minion to come crashing through the glass. Instead, it hit Lucinda’s warding. An amber glow flared and disappeared, knocking the creature back ten paces and putting him flat on his demon ass.

  Chuck looked from the warding to Teag and then to me. “Who the hell are you people?” He asked. “And what the hell is an akvenon minion doing outside your house?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I FROZE. IT wasn’t like I could deny what had just happened. Chuck had run for his life from a snarling demon minion, which bounced off a Voudon mambo’s protective warding like a marble off Jell-O. So I decided that a good offense was the best defense.

  “Why were you stalking me?” I demanded. Teag was next to me, and he casually fell into a defensive posture.

  Chuck rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t stalking you – not really. I wanted to check you out, the way you checked me out. You don’t think I fell for that cockamamie story you gave me, did you?”

  “What’s in your hand?” Teag said. Up close, the gadget really did look like a remote control, but the akvenon sure hadn’t liked it.

  Chuck smirked. “EMF disruptor. Kind of like pepper spray for spooks. They give off an electromagnetic field. This scrambles their signal.

  “That’s not exactly off-the-shelf technology,” Teag observed, raising an eyebrow. He would know.

  Between the supernatural Darke Web and
its mundane competitor, he had a pretty good idea of what kind of equipment was out there, legally or not.

  Chuck shook his head. “Military. I told you – I was Black Ops, the real Black Ops dealing with the stuff that lives in the shadows, that ain’t from around here – and I mean Earth, not the old Commie Block countries or the Middle East. Terrorists, they’re the least of our worries. Hell, all they can do is kill you.

  The stuff we chased could eat your soul for breakfast.”

  He could have been lying, but I didn’t think so. Question was, did that make him an ally or a rival?

  “You certainly can’t go back out there right now, so you might as well come in,” I said, exchanging a glance and a shrug with Teag.

  “I’ll go clear off the table,” Teag offered, which meant I should stall Chuck while Teag hid Sorren’s package and the journal from the museum. Baxter had been barking like a maniac, but as soon as Chuck was safe inside, the little fuzzy turncoat toddled up, sat down and gave our unexpected guest his most adorable expression.

  “Well aren’t you quite the watchdog!” Chuck said, and to my amazement, bent down and scratched Baxter behind the ears. I still wasn’t sure how far we should trust Chuck, but that went a long way toward convincing me he was a quality person. That and the fact that he made it past Lucinda’s wardings.

  I glanced past Chuck to see Teag nod the ‘all clear’, and put on my best hostess smile. “Let’s go into the kitchen.”

  On the way, I realized that there was a new sound, faint but unmistakable. Chuck was ticking.

  “Teag – he’s wearing a bomb!”

  I swept for Chuck’s legs as Teag went to pin him down. Thing was, Chuck was former military himself, and he didn’t go down without a fight.

  “For the love of God! I don’t have a bomb!” Chuck said. “Get the hell off me! It’s watches. Just watches!”

  Before I could stop him, Chuck ripped back the front of his jacket. I braced myself, expecting to be blown to bits. A heartbeat later when I hadn’t exploded, I looked down to see the jacket Chuck was holding open.