Wake me up before you go-go
Don’t leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don’t want to miss it when you hit that high
The alarm pierced the darkness; even in her morning haze, Annie slammed the off button with her fist. As her brain stumbled through the fog, becoming aware of the day, the song on the radio wasn’t lost on her.
Her body fought between wake and sleep; rolling over, she watched the bright numbers change to 5:31 a.m.
I could use one more hour.
Against all her wishes, Annie threw the covers off and popped up. Cham turned to his back. As much as she wanted to curl against him, she stood on the cold wood floor.
“You really have to leave so early?” Cham groaned. She leaned over, kissed his soft lips, and ran her hands through his already wild morning hair.
“Perkins Abernathy likes to get the autopsies done early. I have to get there,” she said.
“I’ve got a missing person tracking again,” Cham said.
Annie nodded. Another text had been sent to all wizard guards last night. Another missing person was reported on the south side of Chicago with the same unknown magical trace found at their residence.
“I wish I could help.” But Annie had John Doe to contend with. She reached down and kissed him one more time. “I love you,” she whispered and climbed off the bed.
“Love you. See you later.” While he rolled over for a last few minutes of sleep, Annie threw on her work clothes, brushed her teeth, managed her unruly hair, and grabbed a breakfast Danish before heading out to the lab in the basement of Wizard Hall, all the while humming like she was hanging on like a yo-yo.
*
The sun hadn’t risen when Annie landed in the courtyard of Wizard Hall. Cold, blustery wind blew through her hair. She ran into the main entrance to the security desk where the day shift officer sat at his desk, reading the morning edition of the wizard newspaper, The American Sphinx.
“Annie. How’s the dead wizard?” Manny asked with a wide smile.
He must’ve been here when the John Doe was brought in. “You’re way too chipper this morning,” Annie groaned, then chuckled. “I’ll let you know after the autopsy. So how’re the wife and kids?”
Manny laughed with Annie. “Good. Two broomstick racers at Windmere.” He pointed to the pot in the corner. “Coffee’s loaded if you want some.”
“Congrats. I wish I could, but no food or drink in the lab,” Annie said. She waved and passed through the final entrance to the back hallway of the first floor.
Annie swung around to her left, bypassing the elevators for the stairs and nearly running to the basement. The staircase dropped her out by the library, which was still closed this early. She rarely saw the large, hand-carved oak doors closed shut, the way they would be until the librarian, Mrs. Cuttlebrink, opened them at her consistent time of nine in the morning.
As Annie passed the beautifully carved hanging art, she noticed the depictions of ancient wizard folklore, stories all magical children grew up learning. They were interspersed with scenes from wizard history in the United States, history she had learned as a student at Windmere.
Like they always did, her eyes found the carving of the woman who ironically looked just like her, with long flowing hair that blew behind her. The woman stood beside the carcass of a demon, her foot resting on the body, a sword held triumphantly in the air. Still to this day, no one had recognized the demon type that lay beneath her foot.
Strolling past the closed doors of the Records Chambers, Annie peered into the cafeteria, where elves and wizards were well into preparing for the breakfast shift. A few maintenance employees congregated at a clump of tables in the center of the room. Their laughs wafted through the mostly empty basement as they were either coming off the night shift or starting the day shift. Annie saw familiar faces, including Cham’s brother, Jimmy Chamsky, who was jovially regaling his coworkers with some story. Heading past the maintenance office, which was open all night, Annie saw the manager was deep in a pile of paperwork.
The laboratory, where the autopsy would be performed, was hidden away at the end of the hallway. Annie opened the metal door and entered the most orderly and clean space in the entire Wizard Hall. The laboratory, which was built on top of the incinerators, rumbled beneath her feet when she stepped through the door.
The lab consisted of two large rooms. The first half was much like any morgue. Two stainless steel tables were set parallel to each other; above them, large tilted mirrors hung from the ceiling for easy viewing of autopsies.
Cabinets lined the perimeter of the room and were filled with beakers, test tubes, cauldrons, herbs, and other potion ingredients. To Annie’s left, a large work table was piled high with containers and folders.
The far right wall of the morgue contained a huge, thick, indestructible pane of glass, the kind used at zoos to keep animals from breaking through. It overlooked a massive yet empty gym. The walls were covered in blue mats, some stained, others ripped or burnt. Extra mats were piled along the far right wall. This half of the laboratory was used to test spells, potions, and black magical objects. The linoleum floor was covered in scorch marks and potions stains; there was one nasty burn running the length of the room and up the wall to the ceiling.
John Doe lay on the table closest to the window. A large mirror was already positioned above the table, angled for a good view of the body.
Who else is coming?
Perkins Abernathy, the lab manager, was starting his examination by reviewing the X-ray on the light box along the back wall.
“Hi, Perkins.”
“Annie. Interesting case.” Perkins smiled and returned to the X-ray, taking measurements of the object and its location inside the stomach cavity.
“No kidding. Body came okay, I see.” Annie donned the required work suit, slipping on the large blue coveralls, shoe covers, and gloves. Lastly, she placed on a hat with a large faceguard protecting her eyes. Hot under the shield, her breath fogged the visor.
“I still can’t figure out what this is,” Perkins admitted, joining her at the table but leaving the X-ray on the light box.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
When Perkins finished with his gloves and lowered his visor, he began the ‘Y’ incision through the chest, opening up the skin and muscles. The stench of death hit Annie immediately. She held the side of the table to keep from passing out.
“Okay, girl?” Gibbs asked, entering the lab. He had come from his missing person’s case and ran over to back up Annie in this murder case. He yanked on his own gear before Annie could answer. “Abernathy,” Gibbs greeted the lab manager, then joined them at the table.
Perkins detached the stomach from the rest of the organs and placed it on the table behind him. Annie tentatively followed.
Perkins ran a knife through the stomach; contents spilled over, landing in a plastic storage box. Another distinct smell assaulted Annie’s nose. Something hadn’t digested before the victim died.
“You hanging in there, Annie? Gibbs?”
“Yeah. Still gross though,” she answered, trying to breathe at the same time.
Gibbs looked over her shoulder, neither fascinated nor bored. Though he was far more used to autopsies than Annie was, he was pale and breathing through his mouth.
He’s more bothered than he lets on.
Annie grimaced when Perkins stuck a hand inside the organ. Bodily fluids and flesh squished under his fingers, and she blanched. Gibbs grimaced and looked away, even though the splish-splashing of stomach contents continued.
After feeling around in the stomach, Perkins plucked out the mysterious object, holding it in his palm.
“What the hell?” Annie reached forward. The object was a large, thick ring with a dense band.
“Something worth killing for,” Gibbs commented.
Annie wiped away stomach biologicals to examine the ring more closely. It
consisted of a flat top, with a raised six-pointed star at the center. Three stones made up the corners of a square; the fourth corner was a set of empty prongs.
“It’s missing a stone. Can you check inside for it?” Annie pointed, showing Perkins the missing stone.
He widened the incision in the stomach and dumped the contents into the bowl. Annie looked away, exchanging disgusted looks with Gibbs. Perkins sloshed around in the half-digested food and stomach acid. It slopped against the side of the bowl. Gibbs turned green underneath his shield.
Finding nothing, Perkins examined the inside of the stomach, kneading every recess, bump, and centimeter of the stomach lining. “Sorry, Annie, there’s nothing in there.”
“It probably didn’t pass into the intestines yet, right?”
“Doubtful. Let me see the ring.”
Annie passed Perkins the artifact. He collected the ring’s magic from his crystal. Saving the trace, he passed the crystal over the victim’s intestines, which remained dull and lifeless.
“It could have been lost centuries ago,” Perkins suggested.
“Probably,” Annie agreed. “Thanks for checking. Do you mind if we clean it off now? I’d like to take it with me.”
“Have at it. I’ll start a full autopsy and let you know if I find something. Do you need anything from the body?”
“Just the normal stuff, DNA samples, and fingerprints for Bucky. We still need to find out who this is.”
“Will do. If you need anything else, let me know.”
Perkins began his more thorough examination and became singularly focused on that, paying little attention to Annie and Gibbs at the sink. Annie ran cold water over the ring, rinsing away slime and stomach contents.
“Whoever had this ring made was extremely large,” Annie noted as she gently massaged the ring clean.
“Yeah. Looks like.”
When the water ran clear, she dried the ring off and handed it to Gibbs, a large man on his own. He slipped the ring over his largest finger. It spun and slid off easily.
Annie dumped the ring into a plastic evidence bag.
“I’m heading to the library to see what I can find on this. Tonight the market?” she asked Gibbs.
“Call when you’re ready for me,” he said, and they stripped off the work gear, dumping it into the incinerator. It sizzled and popped.
She said goodbye to Perkins, who was so wrapped in what he was doing, he didn’t seem to notice.
*
Mrs. Cuttlebrink, the Wizard Hall librarian, flew through the stacks holding thousands of books, scrolls and tablets; some as early as the fifth century. Wisps of her salt-and-pepper hair danced out of her normally tight bun as she skipped happily on her short, thick legs to the table where Annie perused several books the librarian had waiting for her. “Here’s some more for you, Annie.”
The first pile contained encyclopedias of Middle Eastern designs. Many represented cults, clubs, religions, and other organizations originating in that area. Mrs. Cuttlebrink was most certain that the brooch worn by John Doe was indeed from that region, as per her research; however, they still had no idea what their particular design represented.
Maybe it was meant to just be pretty.
A second pile of tomes, larger than the first, contained both general books about ancient jewelry and some with a distinct focus on the Middle East. Annie pulled down another book from that pile to peruse.
The harsh library light and dry air caused her to blink rapidly. Annie pushed the book aside and rubbed her temple that ached. She slid her chair backwards, arched her tightened back, and stretched her arms above her head.
Drawing a cleansing breath, Annie sniffed a scent of lemon. As she glanced around the library, she finally noticed that the dark, wood-covered walls gleamed brightly. High bookshelves had been repacked; the books were neatly lined, alphabetized, and reorganized. The cobwebs that normally appeared from the ceiling to the top shelves had been swept away. Even the table, which was covered in books, shined after an extreme cleaning.
It must be slow in the library. Annie chuckled at the thought that Mrs. Cuttlebrink was bored.
“Are you okay, Annie?” the librarian asked.
Even after rummaging the stacks all morning, Mrs. Cuttlebrink still felt fresh and overly excited by this project. “I’m fine. Tired, a little hungry, and… well, frustrated with the lack of… anything.”
“Oh, sweetie, we have lots more books to look through.” Mrs. Cuttlebrink smiled. The kindly woman held up another book before opening it and skimming the page. As the librarian read the passage and turned the page, her eyes lit up and her smile grew wider like an excited child who had opened a birthday present and gotten what she wanted. Mrs. Cuttlebrink turned the page again; her smile couldn’t have gotten any wider. She pointed and tapped the book.
What question did she answer?
In a flash, the librarian pulled up another book, laid it open on the table, and cast a spell with her palms above the books. The pages flipped rapidly, succumbing to the magical order to search out whatever it was she requested. As quickly as it started, the pages stopped, and the book flopped open to the designated page. Mrs. Cuttlebrink scanned a passage and returned to the first book. Her eyes volleyed back and forth as she verified her findings.
Anxious for an answer, Annie examined the piles in front of her and pulled down a handwritten scroll that teetered on top of a pile. Unrolling the paper, she separated several pages, scanning the handwritten notes.
These are the adventures of Nicholas Roerich.
Out of the Russian city, with the scent of people, of animals as they meandered through the muddy streets, I find myself in Tibet, to the clean, clear mountain air that revives my abilities and gives me back my clarity as I search for my place in the universe. I’m sure of the answers I seek…
…The tea awakened me to the purpose of the sky, of the stars, of the meaning of all things not of this world, of all of the mysteries that are for me to discover.
…The people of the mountains shared their yak meat, their berries, and substance, and they let me into their world to show me the grandest of artifacts: the ring of great power, the ring that could make the wearer successful, give them insight, enlighten them.
The band is so thick, made of iron and copper. It is old and well used. It was made for a man of great power, of great girth. The craftsman who created this work of art did so with great care, using the powerful, beautiful, ethereal Chintamani Stones. This is where the power of the ring originates from.
If a wearer has magic within, he could live forever.
Annie scratched the words Chintamani stones on the paper; she had never heard of rocks by that name. She reread the description of the ring. There was no mention of the flat top or the raised six-pointed star, though that could have been added at a later date.
She took the ring from the plastic pouch and placed it on her finger, examining each feature. Cool metal vibrated against her skin; she hadn’t noticed the vibrations before. Pulling out the magnifying glass, she examined the raised star and compared its metal to that of the base of the ring. It was most definitely the same metal as the rest of the ring.
It’s probably not the same ring.
Annie sighed.
“Do you have something Annie?” Mrs. Cuttlebrink asked.
“Not really. Maybe. There’s a description in here about a ring with four stones called the Chintamani Stones. Have you heard of them?”
Mrs. Cuttlebrink smiled. “Yes. I have. Stones from heaven. Can I see the ring?” Annie passed her the hefty jewelry. Mrs. Cuttlebrink inspected it up close, her fingers grazing the remaining three stones. “Yes, Annie dear. These look like moldavite stones. Stones from heaven. Do you know what that means?” Mrs. Cuttlebrink asked.
“Stones from heaven? No. I don’t.” Annie thought. “Unless… it’s literal?”
Mrs. Cuttlebrink smiled again.
“Meteorites,” they said together.
“So, these stones from heaven… what power do they hold? According to the scant passage I read, the wearer lives forever?” Annie asked.
Mrs. Cuttlebrink handed the ring back to Annie. “Well. We know from past cases how many artifacts claim to do that. I highly doubt this ring does that. What I do know about the Chintamani Stones is they supposedly bring luck and fulfillment to the wearer. It also allows the user to see into the past and future. And yes, some cultures do believe the Chintamani makes one immortal.”
“That’s one powerful ring. Which give motive for the murder.” Annie returned the stone to the evidence bag. “The star might tell us who this ring was originally created for.” She glanced back at the scroll for additional information until the location Atlantis caught her eye.
“Oh. Here. Chintamani Stones. Four stones were cut from a larger one. Three of the stones were gifted: one to an abbot at a lamasery, one to Emperor Tazlovoo of Atlantis, and another went to King Solomon.” Annie looked at Mrs. Cuttlebrink. “The King Solomon?”
“Can I see the passage?” Mrs. Cuttlebrink, took her time to read the scroll. Her hands shook, and the paper fluttered while she read. “Okay, yes. The Russian Mystic Roerich. According to this, four stones were cut from one larger stone and were gifted to four different people. One of these men—or possibly all of them—had rings created. Wealthy, powerful. That would make sense. Let’s see…” she continued reading the passage. “There’s nothing in this description that matches ours. So ours might have been from one of these men. Emperor Tazlovoo. King Solomon.” She looked up from the scroll. “A six-pointed star. The ring please?” She stared intently at the flat top of the ring as Annie handed it to her. “That’s it. The stones, the six-pointed star. King Solomon!” Mrs. Cuttlebrink was so enthusiastic that she bolted from her chair and headed to the stacks, as spry as a child.
As she levitated and flew, she displaced the air with her body, leading to popping noises throughout the stacks. Several heavy tomes came crashing down; the force of the crash vibrated across the stone floor and against the wood walls. “No, not this one.” Air sizzled and popped again as she floated along the aisle to another section.
Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Page 39