by Tegan Maher
I smiled at him as I poured a cup of coffee. "Early night. We're chasing another artifact, but the next guy we have to talk to is out of town 'til later this morning. I couldn't sleep any longer, though."
He glanced at me over the top of his paper. "Is Jake sleeping in again? I haven't much of him lately."
"Me either." I sighed. He'd met a nice college professor, and since it was summer and she wasn't working, they'd been spending a lot of time together. It worried me a little, not because I didn't want him to be happy, but because I didn't want to lose the status quo. He was my twin, and we'd always been two peas in a pod. He'd had plenty of girlfriends, but this was the first time he'd sort of tossed me for one of them. Guilt flashed through me just for thinking that.
Connell reached across and put his hand on mine. "You'll always be his number one. You just might have to share the space a little. Have you spent any time with her?"
"Oh, yeah. And she's nice. I'm just being silly. And maybe a little selfish, though I'm trying hard not to be." I took another drink of coffee, studying the way the sediment swirled in the bottom.
He gave my hand a squeeze. "Despite the tough-girl act, I know you don't have a selfish bone in your body. It's normal to feel a little lost when things change. If this turns out to be more than a May-September romance, you'll adjust and find your new normal with him."
And that was why he was the next in line to be the patriarch of the family, not that Dad was going anywhere any time soon. He always knew just what to say.
Jules, our cook and the best maker of pancakes on the planet, pushed backwards through the swinging door leading from the kitchen, a huge stack of those magical discs in one hand and a steaming plate of sausage links browned to a crisp all the way around in the other.
"You're an angel," I said, hurrying over to clear a spot on the sideboard so she could set them down.
"I know." She winked and grinned at me as she slid the plates into the spaces I'd made. "But sometimes I think you only say that because I make you blueberry pancakes."
"I take offense to that." I winked back and returned her smile as I sat back down with my coffee. She'd been with us for years but hadn't seemed to age a day. "You also make me creme Brule, grownup mac-n-cheese, and that amazing chicken with the goat cheese and lemon-butter sauce."
On her way past, she leaned down and kissed me on top of my head like she had when I was little. She was more another family member than an employee. "And I love every minute of it, too. Now, eat your pancakes before they get cold."
She wasn't just saying that, either. Jules often joined us for family events such as barbecues and vacations, and even when we went camping, she was never content to let us eat canned baked beans and meat off sticks. She always managed to sneak enough groceries into our cabin so she can cook breakfasts and at least one big meal as well as sides for the nights we insisted on eating hot dogs over the fire. Food was who she was, and she'd told me once it was how she showed people she loved them.
I'd intended to drink my coffee before digging in, but the smell of hot blueberries cooked into fluffy batter was too much to resist. I piled two on my plate along with a few sausage links and some scrambled eggs, then topped it all with hot maple syrup.
I plopped down in my chair and dug in, content to just hang with Connell and eat for a few. "So, any good swords come through lately?"
He was the weapons expert in our family. Though he knew about most all of them, his love was medieval swords. He had all sorts of connections and always kept his ear to the ground. He'd managed to turn his hobby into a cash cow for our business because he was able to tell the good stuff from the fakes.
"Actually yeah," he replied, swirling his coffee in his mug. His green eyes lit with passion, and he leaned forward, careful not to put his elbows on the table just in case Mom came in. "I picked up one that belonged to William the Conquerer from an estate sale the other day. The metalwork on it is incredible, and with the number of jewels, I suspect it was probably ceremonial. Though back then, they did love to flout their excess, so it could have been one of his dailies."
I raised my brows in appreciation. "And you have evidence of providence with it, or is that just the legend of the weapon?"
He shook his head. "Nope, I actually got documented providence. He gifted it to a loyal knight upon his death along with a healthy chunk of land and title."
"No way," I said around a bit of pancake. "How did we not already know about that?"
He lifted a shoulder. "It happens. People keep things in their vault. Not all collectors show their goods off. You know how people are, especially with stuff like that. They were probably afraid the crown would seize it, and by the time that wasn't a fear anymore, maybe it was tucked away in a private room where only the owners could appreciate it. I only managed to get it because the guy's family wanted the money when he died."
I grinned. "Which means you got it for a deal?"
He crinkled his nose, excitement practically rolling off him. The only thing he liked better than swords was getting good deals on them. He was a master bargainer. "I practically stole it. I made a mega lowball bid at twenty grand figuring they'd counter, but he snapped it up without even trying to get more out of me."
"Wow. That's ... gonna be a good payday. Didn't he have anybody value the stuff before he sold?"
"Apparently not. I talked to an appraiser while I was there, and he said he'd tried to talk the guy into working with him, but he brushed him off. He said he didn't trust anybody not to con him."
I huffed a breath out through my nose. "They couldn't have done any worse than he did to himself. Did you get anything else good?"
"Heck yeah. When I figured out he was basically giving the stuff away, I made him an offer on his whole collection along with several nice pieces of furniture and some paintings and coins. I tried to be fair, but the guy was so pompous and rude that I stayed on the low end of it." He lifted a shoulder. "We're a business. If the guy wanted to give his stuff away out of sheer stupidity and greed, I wasn't going to say no."
It always amazed me when we came across people like that, and there were a surprising number of them. Like he said, though, we made our money brokering high-end deals, and Connell knew to a dime what that stuff was worth. If he didn't, he knew people who did.
Eli shuffled into the dining room, his hair still plastered to his head. "Morning, Shmoo, Connell. I smell sausage." Unlike me, he didn't need caffeine before food, so he filled both his cup and his plate before sinking down into the chair beside me.
His eyes were red and I could pack for a weekend away in the bags under his eyes. "You sleep okay?"
He shook his head. "No, as a matter of fact, I didn't, but it's not a big deal. I just had a lot on my mind."
I studied him because there were very few things that caused him to lose sleep. "Care to share? Two sets of shoulders are better than one to carry a burden."
He waved me off as he dumped cream into his coffee. "Oh, it wasn't anything like that. Just weird dreams."
"Okay, well if you're sure."
Before I could give it much more thought, Axel rolled out from his cubby under the stairs. He'd claimed a Harry Potter-style closet to sleep in and stash his collection of shinies, and woe be to anybody who touched his stuff.
"Mornin' sunshine," I said as he arched his back and stretched. "Good haul last night?"
He usually played after-hours poker at the Jolly Roger, and he was better at the game than most. Bert, the owner, didn't mind much, though, because unlike most of the players, Axel chose to gamble for free food and shiny things. Since the after-hours was all locals, most of them knew to bring Axel-friendly payments in case they literally got skunked at the game.
"Not bad, not bad at all. I managed to score another week's worth of wings and beer, sides included, and I also picked up a few pretties."
I smiled. That could be anything from sea glass to solo earrings somebody's wife lost the mate to. Axel had a m
uch different concept of value than humans did.
Connell snapped the paper shut. Though he was as tech-savvy as the rest of us, he still preferred the paper in hard copy just like my dad did. He also read most of his books in paperback. It was one of the many quirks that make him so lovable. "Anything else good happen?"
Axel wobbled his paw back and forth. "Depends on what you call good. The twins came in for a while, so it was fun watching them hit on guys way out of their league." He drew his fuzzy brows down. "Larry came in to play, too, and when I tried to question him about that broad he's dating, he got a little irritated, I think."
I cocked a brow. "One, the term broad is taking it a little far. I realize it was acceptable back in the day, but it's not anymore. I can deal with dames and chicks, but I'm drawing the line at broad. Two, how did you approach him?" Axel was about as subtle as a chair to the face, so it wouldn't surprise me if he'd managed to offend our friend with only a couple sentences.
Axel plucked a piece of sausage off my plate. "Just like any guy approaches another about his choice of br—women. I asked him what was up with the skirt and what her background was and if she came from money."
Eli wagged his fork at him. "Skirt is offensive slang, too. It's no wonder you can't find a nice lady skunk to hang out with. It's no wonder Larry got mad, especially considering you all but called her a thief and a gold digger."
"If he chose to take it that way, it's not on me." He lifted a furry shoulder. "All he said was she moved here from Ohio and is in sales. Didn't say what kind. Sound shady to me, especially since she was askin' all those questions about his boat."
I didn't disagree, but I was trying to keep an open mind. Larry was a good judge of character.
A quick glance at my phone told me it was time to call Rob Thompson and see if we couldn't wrap this lantern thing up. All I could hope for was that he hadn't been cursed, too.
Chapter Nine
Much to my delight, Rob Thompson was already in town and headed to a rummage sale and market at the marina. It was something they did once a month and was a huge draw to tourists and locals alike. It also gave the boating and fishing community the chance to make a little extra cash, so it was a win all the way around. We agreed to meet him there.
Since that's something I knew Jake enjoyed, I fired off a to him to see if he wanted to go. When he didn't answer, I tried my best not to take it personally. Let him enjoy his time with Michelle.
Since both Eli and I had showered the night before, it only took us a few minutes to get ready. We decided to take his car—a sporty little convertible—since the day was so nice. Public parking at the marina was scarce, so we snagged a spot in the private lot reserved for people who owned a boat or lived aboard one. Being close friends with the marina manager had its perks.
The market was booming when we got there, and I smiled. It was one of my favorite places, mostly because of the fair-like atmosphere. Everybody was happy, and the smells of baking bread, popcorn, and the sea wafted over the area in a cloud that seemed specially made just for me.
Rob had agreed to meet us at the shanty, a small building where people who needed electricity or had wares that couldn't withstand the summer heat could set up their booths. Even though it was still fairly early, the temperature was already hovering at eighty with the promise of ten more degrees in the next few hours.
We beat him there, so we grabbed a couple homemade lemonades from a vendor and wandered around the nearby booths checking out the goods. I wasn't surprised when a raven flew by and settled on the edge of a tent nearly overhead. It cocked its head at me, and I knew from the intelligence shining in its eyes that Luther had arrived. I wasn't sure how he always knew where I'd be because I hadn't texted to let him know, but I was starting to just go with it.
"We're meeting him over there in just a few minutes," I said, trying not to let on that I was talking to the bird.
He dipped his head once, then flew away. Not two minutes later, Luther emerged from behind the shanty. I grinned as he adjusted his clothes, which caught a few side-eyes from folks passing by.
He returned my smile, and I went a little weak in the knees. That grin should be considered a lethal weapon.
"Not that I'm not elated to see that smile, but it almost feels like it's at my expense."
Eli giggled. "It's because the way you came from behind the building, it looked like you snuck back there to take a leak."
"Ah," he replied, nodding as it sunk in. "I hadn't thought of that, but it sure does explain why people look at me oddly when I do that."
We didn't have any more time to discuss his changing habits because a tall, middle-aged man with a slight beer gut and sandy hair too perfect to not have come from a bottle stepped up and tapped me on my shoulder.
"I'm Rob Thompson. I assume you're Sage Parker?" His smile was genuine, and I found myself liking the guy.
"I am, and these are my associates, Eli Summers and Luther VonDrake. We have some questions, and though they may seem odd, rest assured that they're critical. We're trying to figure out what happened to your business partner, and hopefully prevent anybody else from harm."
Since I wasn't as good at coming up with explanations on the fly, Eli stepped forward and held out his hand. "You see, we think he came into contact with a lantern that had toxic chemicals on it."
He frowned. "You mean like lead paint or something?"
I flipped through my mental catalog of poisons. Because we dealt exclusively in old stuff, I knew the symptoms of lead poisoning would fit right in even if it was a stretch. Humans tended to believe things they wouldn't normally if it explained something painful.
"Yes! Exactly like lead poisoning." That was all the explanation I was willing to give, though. Rule number one about lying: Don't give enough details that they can trip you up later.
Luther stepped forward. "We understand you recently bought him one, correct?"
He nodded. "I did. Well, sort of. We picked up a few because we came across some especially good specimens at a sale last weekend. He put one on his boat, I put one on mine, and we put one in our cabinet at the office. We have a tradition that involves them."
"Would you mind if we saw them?" I asked.
He cringed. "Normally, no. But his boat is in for a hull cleaning, and my brother-in-law took mine out this morning. You're welcome to see them then."
I pulled in a deep breath and exhaled through my nose, trying not to let him see how irritated I was. I did manage to keep my smile in place. "Of course. That would be awesome. And what about the one at your office?"
His face fell. "I'm afraid you can't see it, either. We usually keep the lanterns exactly as we find them because we think it makes them look more authentic, but this week was Carl's twenty-fifth anniversary running the company. Oddly enough, the gluten-free line is the twenty-fifth product he's introduced at the company, too, so I thought we should commemorate that. I pulled it from the case yesterday before he ... well, died, and took it to a local artist. She's restoring it and hand lettering a big 25 on it."
I was about to chew my tongue in two from frustration. Luther was right—it was almost like the objects did everything they could to wreak havoc.
Eli rubbed his jaw but otherwise didn't show any signs of turbulence even though I knew he had to be feeling the same things I was. I only hoped I was covering it as well as he did.
Luther, on the other hand, appeared completely unperturbed. He stood with his arms crossed and looked perfectly at ease. "You haven't experienced any symptoms, have you? Or haven't noticed anything strange with anybody who's handled any of them?"
Rob shook his head, worry etched across his forehead. "No, I haven't. In fact, I just spent time with my daughter, who went to the sale with us, and she was fine. Buckled back in for another summer term after spending two weeks with us and another two backpacking with friends in the Appalachians. As far as I know, she's the only one beside Carl and me who touched them."
I co
uldn't think of anything else to add, so I opened my mouth to end the conversation, but Luther spoke before I could.
"I imagine over the years that you've gained some knowledge about lanterns, yes?"
Rob nodded. "Sure, it's sort of a side hobby. I love antiques of all sorts, but especially nautical ones. Why?"
Luther smiled like he'd gotten the exact answer he was looking for. "Could you give us a general idea of when the three lanterns you bought were made?"
That was impressive. I would have never thought to ask that, but if we could knock one or two of them off the list because they were too new to have been used in the 1700s, then we'd be that much closer to finding the cursed one.
"As a matter of fact, I do. You can get a general idea from the way they're made, the metal and glass that's used, and sometimes there's a maker's mark. One of those was fairly new—this century. That's the one I was having painted since it wouldn't lessen the value. We thought one was from the 1800s, and the other—the one we put on Carl's boat was a really old one. From what we could guess, early 18th century."
Bingo.
"Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Thompson. Can you tell us where Carl took his boat for the haul-out?"
"Sure can," he said, smiling and pointing toward the far end of the marina. "About a thousand yards that way!"
Finally, we'd managed to catch a break. Stony, a good friend of ours, was also magical, so we wouldn't have to tiptoe around what we were doing. I also knew he was fast at what he did, so if he'd started yesterday, he was probably already finished.
He must have known I was pleased because he gave me a small smile. "It was my pleasure, Ms. Parker. I'm sorry it was under these circumstances, though. Maybe we'll meet up again at another sale. You'd love my daughter—she's probably about your age." He turned to Eli. "And she's also single."