Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  She appreciated his effort and offered a wan smile. “I know. It’s just, this. It’s different this time. The people who died, the attack. It’s just…”

  “Different. I get it.” He squeezed her hand and opened his door, stepping into the warm, gas-tinged air.

  “Thanks for arranging this meeting. I appreciate the help,” Annie said as she exited the car and waited for Jack to pop the trunk.

  “Annie, this case affected the entire world. Amelie…” He opened the trunk where ten boxes of evidence were stored. “Not to mention, I’m glad you and your team are safe. Anything to help put criminals behind bars.”

  A large dolly waited for them near the elevator. Jack grabbed it, and together he and Annie loaded the boxes for the trip inside.

  *

  “Yes. That’s correct. We’ve been following Marielle Beauchamp for months. She’s been importing stolen artifacts into the U.S., and in the course of our investigation, we became aware that she was connected to several murders. We think that’s where these stolen goods came from. Kill the owner, take their items. These will help you prosecute her.” Annie slid the first box to Fergus Bergeron, agent with the DST. It contained all of the case files.

  “I thank you for your assistance in bringing this to us. Sad, unsolved cases,” Fergus said through an accent so thick, Annie had to pay careful attention to each word. He smiled, and Annie returned with one of her own. “And you will not prosecute in the U.S.?” he asked.

  “No. We feel the murders are far more important. The owners are grateful the perpetrator was caught,” Annie said. “I just hope the evidence is enough for you. It’s horrible what this woman was able to do.”

  “Thank you, Jack Ramsey,” Fergus said. “And should we have questions, I can refer to you, Ms. Pearce?”

  “Anything you need, please let me know.”

  “I will follow up with you in a few days to extradite her back to France. The paperwork will be ready?”

  “Yes, Fergus. We’re preparing everything for you as we speak.”

  *

  It was a shorter meeting than Annie had expected. She knew this had something to do with Jack and his ability to handle any situation she dragged him into. He had deftly contacted Fergus, explained the situation, and was straight and to the point during their meeting. When they had concluded business and handed off all of the evidence, they had shaken hands and left.

  Jack led Annie on a stroll through Paris, ending their trek along the Seine River. Annie was grateful. She wasn’t so keen on leaving just yet.

  “This was one hell of case for you,” he commented. He caught sight of a tour boat as it was guided down a bend in the river. Annie followed his glance and watched the boat slash through the water.

  “A lot of entities had a hand in this. I’m just very glad it’s over.” Annie found a dry spot in the grass and sat herself down. The tour boat was getting closer, and she watched with interest.

  I’ll have to remember to do that when I come back.

  Jack joined Annie in the grass.

  “What’s the condition of your relationship with the French Wizard Guard?” he asked.

  “For now it’s shaky. Their Wizard Council is horrified at what their Wizard Guard had been doing. With Marielle in prison and Armand dead, they’ve offered their sincerest apologies. Which is fine. They had nothing to do with the attack. It’s the memory modification… that’s serious.”

  Annie plucked a blade of grass and wrapped it around her finger. As the tour boat passed, several passengers waved to the tourists along the banks. Annie absently waved back.

  “And?” Jack asked.

  “And we distrust them. Their Wizard Hall is in turmoil. Employees are disillusioned, unsatisfied, and pissed off that their memories were tampered with.” Annie continued to watch the boat as it slid easily along the water toward Notre Dame Cathedral.

  “And Fabien?”

  Annie had given Jack the detailed story from the beginning. He was well familiar with all of the players, places, and events.

  And he remembers everything.

  “Fabien was let go because he approved the memory modification program. The pins were all melted and destroyed, and the rod they used to disperse the spells was taken down and destroyed.”

  “I bet it’s a mess,” Jack commented.

  “It’ll take some time for everyone there to trust that department again. I get it. We are often allowed to step on the line and almost cross it.”

  “Really? You?” Jack joked, as he attempted to elicit a smile from Annie.

  She offered him a halfhearted one. She really didn’t feel like laughing.

  “You wouldn’t really modify the memories of your people unless it was of the upmost importance. Would you?” Jack asked.

  There’s still something’s he doesn’t understand about magic.

  “I did it to the French Wizard Hall on their insistence to buy some time. I debated the entire night before we performed the spell. It never felt right to me and, honestly, I regretted it immediately. But in some cases, with the queen’s death, I was okay with it. Better off safe than open to exposure,” Annie admitted.

  “You take time to think about it before you do it, though,” Jack defended her.

  “Yes. We need special approval. They made it into a regular program.” She pulled her knees up and rested her head on them.

  The sun was hot against her hair. She pulled it into a thick ponytail. “You about ready to go home?”

  “Do we need to do anything else for anyone else?”

  “All done.” Annie smiled.

  “Then let’s do this.”

  *

  It had been a week since Annie had been home. If it hadn’t been for Amelie turning up as a vampire, Annie would have spent the week deliriously resting from her recent injuries, watching television, baking, or doing something else mindless to take her mind off of the loss of the Black Market and the recent brush with her father’s eight-year-old murder case.

  Exhausted, she moved the heating pad to a new location and snuggled in to the corner of her sectional sofa. She wrapped herself in a thick, warm blanket and settled in for a long overdue nap. It didn’t take her long to find sleep, which overtook her for most of the afternoon.

  When she woke, she was enveloped in Cham’s arms. He was sound asleep.

  Of course, and I’m not anymore.

  She slid out of his embrace and left him sleeping in the corner.

  Entering the kitchen, she immediately noticed the dusty box that had been sitting on her kitchen table since before she left for France. She had found it hidden in the crawl space in the basement and had placed it there moments before receiving the newspaper from Sturtagaard. As Annie stared at the box, still sturdy only dusty, the pull of curiosity was more than she could stand.

  Cham lay sleeping, his chest rising and falling peacefully. Sure he was comfortable, Annie lifted the lid and peered inside.

  The missing file!

  From the dusty box, Annie pulled out the fourth file, the missing file she had searched for in Records Hall when she was investigating the Fraternitatem of Solomon. She pulled it from its tomb and placed it on the table.

  With a tentative sigh, Annie opened the folder.

  “What the hell?” she asked no one as she unclipped a note attached to the folder. It was addressed to her.

  My dearest Annie,

  If you are reading this, I am dead. And as I write this, that realization hits me hard with the things I will miss or have already missed. For that, my angel, I am so very sorry.

  But sometimes as a wizard guard, there are cases so challenging that you are forced to do things that you otherwise would not do. Sometimes the rules can no longer apply. There is too much at stake to risk our way of life and the lives of our family.

  I have to make a choice. I have to choose being with you and Samantha for as long as I can, or I can save the world from ourselves. It’s a choice that I deeply regret tha
t I have to make. Sometimes our choices lead us to this very place and time.

  I came across Wolfgange Rathbone in the course of this case. The Chintamani Stones that once belonged to King Solomon have been stolen and are sold in the Black Market. They are a danger to our people, and to the nonmagicals that we share this world with.

  So sorry my love, but they asked me to stop. They asked me to hand over the stones that I was able to retrieve. They belonged to the Wizard Guard, to the Wizard Council but I did as they requested because they threatened my child. They threatened you, Annie.

  My dear, sweet Annie. It wasn’t the first time that your very existence has been threatened. I regret that I will not physically be there for you at any time to protect you. But there is a reason why I so diligently trained you, my dear. Because there will be a time in your future when you need to know what to do, how to keep yourself alive. I gave you all that I could in the short time that I had with you.

  I promise you, Annie, that I gave them back all of the stones I had in my possession. But when you deal with secret societies such as the Fraternitatem of Solomon, which hide themselves away and don’t participate in the world as it is, you find that you can’t trust them. They are paranoid, distrustful, and have many secrets I wish I could have shared with you.

  They had Rathbone in their employ, and it’s him I fear the most. Not because I can’t defend myself against his weaknesses, but because I have you in my head, and your safety blinds me. I will die before I let them get to you. Because there is a prophecy my love. You are at the center, and I will do whatever I can in life and death to ensure that the prophecy doesn’t come true.

  This might seem to be the ramblings of a man who knows his death is eminent, but I assure you this is real. If I am dead, it was at the hands of Rathbone on the orders of the Fraternitatem of Solomon. They will still be after the stones that I promise I no longer have.

  Please believe me that I will do everything in my power to keep myself safe, to keep my friends and my children away from this difficult case. I do this for all of you because it was I who dug myself into this mess.

  You deserved so much better than what I gave you. I wish that I could have raised you more like I did Samantha, but I couldn’t. I had to protect you.

  Rathbone knows this prophecy, and he is using it against me to get what he wants. Be wary of him.

  I didn’t die in vain. I died to protect you and the powers you will someday have.

  You are so very special, my love, so strong, so beautiful. I wish you happiness, security, and safety. May you remember all that I taught you. Be safe, my darling. I love you always.

  Dad

  Shaking, Annie placed the folder inside her blood-lock cabinet and slammed the door shut. As she reread the letter from her father, she slid herself to the floor, lowered her head, and cried.

  The End

  Prologue

  One week after Annie returned home from Paris…

  Since returning from France, Annie couldn’t help but think if Sturtagaard hadn’t let her know that Amelie was a vampire, she would have spent the week deliriously recovering from her recent injuries, watching television, baking, or enjoying some other mindless activity rather than chasing and killing the vampire. She shuddered at the thought.

  She had little time in France to dwell on the loss of the Black Market or of its connection to her father’s eight-year-old murder investigation. But, in the end, the journey across Europe left her exhausted. She moved the heating pad to a new location and snuggled into the corner of her sectional sofa, wrapping herself in a thick, warm blanket. It didn’t take long for sleep to overtake her, leaving her blissfully unaware for the entire afternoon.

  When she woke, she was enveloped in Cham’s arms. He was sound asleep.

  Of course and I’m not anymore.

  Annie slid out of his embrace, pulled the blanket to his chin, and left him sleeping in the corner. She walked through the dark house and switched on the kitchen light, which blinded her momentarily. When she gained her bearings, she was immediately drawn to the dusty box that had been sitting on her kitchen table since before she left for France. After searching her house and garage, she had finally found it in the crawl space in the basement, where her father hid it eight years prior. But the newspaper from Sturtagaard, letting her know Princess Amelie was still alive and living as a vampire, had put going through it on hold. Though Cham was curious, he had left the box alone. Now that Annie felt better and more rested, her curiosity was overwhelming.

  Annie was fairly certain that, in it, she would find the missing file for the case her father was investigating when he died. She sighed and glanced at Cham sleeping in the other room; his chest rose and fell peacefully.

  She lifted the lid and peered inside. Sure enough, she saw a file and pulled it from the box. Her father’s handwriting was slanted and square, scrawled across the spaces for guard name, case name and number. She could still feel the grooves left from where he had pressed the pen into the folder. Her stomach roiled with relief and uncertainty.

  Is this still important?

  With a tentative sigh, Annie opened the folder. It had been partitioned into several sections; the first item she saw was a note addressed to her in the same familiar writing.

  “What the hell?” she asked no one as she unclipped the note.

  My dearest Annie,

  If you are reading this, I am dead. And as I write this, that realization hits me hard with the things I will miss or have already missed. For that, my angel, I am so very sorry.

  But sometimes as a wizard guard, there are cases so challenging that you are forced to do things that you otherwise would not do. Sometimes the rules can no longer apply. There is too much at stake to risk our way of life and the lives of our family.

  I have to make a choice. I have to choose being with you and Samantha for as long as I can, or I can save the world from ourselves. It’s a choice that I deeply regret that I have to make. Sometimes our choices lead us to this very place and time.

  I came across Wolfgange Rathbone in the course of this case. The Chintamani Stones that once belonged to King Solomon have been stolen and are sold in the Black Market. They are a danger to our people, and to the nonmagicals that we share this world with.

  So sorry my love, but they asked me to stop. They asked me to hand over the stones that I was able to retrieve. They belonged to the Wizard Guard, to the Wizard Council but I did as they requested because they threatened my child. They threatened you, Annie.

  My dear, sweet Annie. It wasn’t the first time that your very existence has been threatened. I regret that I will not physically be there for you at any time to protect you. But there is a reason why I so diligently trained you, my dear. Because there will be a time in your future when you need to know what to do, how to keep yourself alive. I gave you all that I could in the short time that I had with you.

  I promise you, Annie, that I gave them back all of the stones I had in my possession. But when you deal with secret societies such as the Fraternitatem of Solomon, which hide themselves away and don’t participate in the world as it is, you find that you can’t trust them. They are paranoid, distrustful, and have many secrets I wish I could have shared with you.

  They had Rathbone in their employ, and it’s him I fear the most. Not because I can’t defend myself against his weaknesses, but because I have you in my head, and your safety blinds me. I will die before I let them get to you. Because there is a prophecy my love. You are at the center, and I will do whatever I can in life and death to ensure that the prophecy doesn’t come true.

  This might seem to be the ramblings of a man who knows his death is imminent, but I assure you, this is real. If I am dead, it was at the hands of Rathbone on the orders of the Fraternitatem of Solomon. They will still be after the stones that I promise I no longer have.

  Please believe me that I will do everything in my power to keep myself safe, to keep my friends and my children away
from this difficult case. I do this for all of you because it was I who dug myself into this mess.

  You deserved so much better than what I gave you. I wish that I could have raised you more like I did Samantha, but I couldn’t. I had to protect you.

  Rathbone knows this prophecy, and he is using it against me to get what he wants. Be wary of him.

  I didn’t die in vain. I died to protect you and the powers you will someday have.

  You are so very special, my love, so strong, so beautiful. I wish you happiness, security, and safety. May you remember all that I taught you. Be safe, my darling. I love you always.

  Dad

  Shaking, Annie placed the folder inside her blood-lock cabinet and slammed the door shut. As she reread the letter from her father, she slid herself to the floor, lowered her head, and cried.

  *

  She hid the letter in her thick sock. Throughout the evening, the paper would scratch her skin whenever she moved. Annie still hadn’t shared what she discovered with Cham. There were too many questions, and she hadn’t wrapped her head around the information. He clearly knew something was bothering her; it made him overly attentive and patient as he held up the conversation. In that, she felt guilty and anxious. All Annie wanted to do was pull out the folder and dig into its secrets.

  Even though she was exhausted, Annie couldn’t sleep. She sat on the window seat beside the bed and watched the moon travel across the sky, but it didn’t calm or help quiet her thoughts. She broke down and snuck through the dark house, retrieving the folder from her locked cabinet. She held her breath, burning her lungs as she opened the well-organized folder. Jason had broken the contents into sections that were each separated by a sheet of colored construction paper. She slowly let air out of her lungs, took another deep breath, and noted each section: photos, notes, and a plastic bag stapled to the folder, containing a small cassette tape.

  What the hell?

  She forced herself to breathe in and out, in and out, as she opened the binder clip that held a large stack of photos. Her jaw dropped violently and her heart hammered; the pictures slipped to the table.