Antique Absconding Arsonist

by Gretchen S. B.

  Antique Absconding Arsonist

  By

  Gretchen S.B.

  Copyright © 2021 by Gretchen S.B.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Works by Gretchen S.B.

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  About the Author

  Works by Gretchen S.B.

  Night World Series:

  Lady of the Dead

  Viking Sensitivity

  A Wolf in Cop's Clothing

  Visions Across the Veil

  Hidden Shifter

  Berman's Wolves Trilogy:

  Berman's Wolves

  Berman's Chosen

  Berman's Secrets

  Berman’s Origin

  Anthony Hollownton Series:

  Hollownton Homicide

  Hollownton Outsiders

  Hollownton Legacy

  Hollownton Case File

  Lantern Lake Series:

  Pizza Pockets & Puppy Love

  A Flurry of Feelings

  Teacher’s Crush

  Pugs & Peppermint Sticks

  Moving Home for Christmas

  Mayor May Not

  Building a Holiday Miracle

  Jas Bond Series:

  Green Goo Goblin

  Spectacle Stealing Supernatural

  Book Burgling Blood-Magic

  Antique Absconding Arsonist

  Stand Alone Stories:

  The Tongue-Tied Hunter

  Poker in Portland

  Big City Bachelor

  Lone Wolf (Early 2022)

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my editor Lacie at Pelican Proofing and proofreader Rose David. You ladies made this book readable for everyone.

  Thank you to Get Covers for giving this book such a beautiful cover. I want to add a thanks to my beta readers for letting me know this story is worth reading.

  As always, thank you to my friends and family who cheer me on as I work toward my dream of being a full-time author.

  Last of all, but not least, is the Hubster. Although he hates to be mentioned, he deserves credit for all his support.

  Chapter 1

  "I understand that, but I've been on hold for forty-five minutes," I bite out through gritted teeth to the woman on the phone as I rap my fingers faster on the counter.

  "I apologize for the inconvenience, but Billy's gone home for the day. Can I leave a message?"

  As much as I want to scream and curse the woman out because I have been on hold waiting for the curator for the semiannual supernatural auction for forty-five minutes only to now be told he's gone home, I don't. Instead, I take a deep breath and am quite proud of myself when my voice comes out only slightly aggressive.

  "Please tell Billy that Jas Bond from Fix 'n' Find has an item he wants to add to the auction. And before you say anything, yes, I’m aware we are less than a week away and that this is short notice. Please tell him the item I wish to add he will very much want to sell, as it will fetch a good price, getting us both good margins."

  I hear typing in the background before she makes a humming sound in the back of her throat. "Mr. Bond, I have that you are already putting an enchanted compact up for sale at the auction. Is this request regarding the compact or is it an additional item?"

  I fight not to grind my teeth again. "It's an additional item."

  "Can you tell me what that item is?" Agitation lines her voice.

  "I'd rather not; I only want to tell Billy. I don't want a lot of information about this item floating around."

  I can sense her seething, as the supernatural auction house is known for its discretion. But before she can respond and we can get into some ridiculous argument that won't help anyone, I jump in.

  "Will you please pass on that he needs to call me back ASAP?"

  There is silence for several beats before she sighs. "Yes, Mr. Bond. I will relay your message and tell Billy to call you back ASAP."

  "Thank you, have a nice evening." I hang up the shop's phone before the woman can continue to probe me about the item I want to add to the auction.

  A week ago, I came into possession of not one but two of Geyser’s Journals, Volume Eight. A book so ridiculously rare I’ve never had one before, let alone two. I lined up a buyer for one copy and although there was some initial trouble, she and I made a deal. The second copy is proving to be a bit harder to place. There is no doubt in my mind that if I put it up on the website, it will snatch a buyer in seconds, even with a hefty price tag. But Geyser’s eighth journal is all about necromancy magic. It is the sort of item that is conspicuous to buy, and the purchaser should have at least a background check if not permission to buy more dangerous items from one of the supernatural governments.

  The woman I sold the first copy to has such permissions. I don't know anybody else who will buy it who fits that bill. But Billy at the auction house can and does routinely verify permissions to buy objects so it wouldn't be any extra steps on his part. Plus, getting it in the auction this weekend will get it out of my hands a heck of a lot sooner than if I had my own bidding war on the shop website.

  Blake, a werewolf supernatural detective and my best friend released the second book to me just this morning. The book was covered in blood when we found it, so the crime scene technicians, the supernatural equivalent that is, scraped it clean in search of any clues about the murdered skin walker who had the book on him when he died. No one had a better place to send it. Since it seems the skin walker stole his copy from me, they gave it to me.

  The bell above the door to my shop jingles and I plaster on my customer service smile only to let it drop when my ex-fiancée Violetta Harker comes through the door in a figure-hugging black dress, clearly heading somewhere much fancier than the places I frequent.

  She glances around the shop and spots an older couple going through the books on the back shelf. They seem to be far enough away to satisfy her because she steps up to the counter and leans over, putting her hands on the glass, ignoring Bailey, who had leapt off her bed upon Violetta entering the store and is wiggling around Vi's feet as the witch walked over to me.

  Her mouth quirks up as Bailey whines and Vi jostles; Bailey is probably head-butting my ex-fiancée’s legs.

  "Jas," she purrs in a singsong tone.

  "Oh, crap, what do you want," I reply in an exasperated tone.

  I remember that tone, that tone means she needs something and has decided I'm the only way she'll get it.

  "Nothing as dire as all that." She rolls her eyes and gives me a put-upon expression. "I ran into Blake, as he and some of his compatriots were breaking up a borderline-illegal witches’ gathering."

  She waves her hand in a dismissive gesture as I raise my eyebrow. Now I have so many questions as to what exactly makes a witches' gathering borderline-illegal and why on Earth Blake would break it up if it was only borderline.

  She continues, ignoring my curiosity. "He tells me something happened last week I might find interesting. I am wondering if this has anything to do with the very expensive book you sold Priscilla last week. When I questioned him about it, he said I should talk to you?" She leans farther over, putting her head in her hands and her elbows on the counter.

  I purpo
sefully do not deviate from making eye contact. "You remember the book that Brownie was looking for a few weeks back?" I purposely keep my tone completely blank and my voice quiet, so the older couple doesn't hear our conversation.

  Her eyes darken and Violetta straightens up, her hands dropping to her sides. "You have one? Is that what you sold Priscilla? She didn't tell me exactly what it was, just what she paid for it." Her whisper was more of a hiss.

  Nodding slowly, I lift my right hand and fold all of my fingers back except my thumb and forefinger, and her eyes go wide.

  "Two? You had two? Is that including the one you sold Priscilla?" Her voice is so full of disbelief if I didn't know better, I'd swear she is inferring I’m a liar.

  "Yep."

  "Whoa." Whatever she was going to say is cut off when she jolts.

  Clearly frustrated with the lack of attention she was getting, Bailey has taken to leg-checking Violetta.

  "Oh, for Pete's sake, Bailey," she half coos, half chastises before bending down and begins scratching my dog under the chin.

  Bailey, for her part, faces Violetta and whines happily.

  After several seconds of giving Bailey her undivided attention, Violetta continues to scratch her under the chin and looks back to me. "As fascinating as this is, I don't understand what it has to do with me."

  "We found the second book in the possession of a skin walker. At the house of said skin walker was a closet full of surveillance photos. Amongst those surveillance photos were more than a dozen pictures of Priscilla, almost as many of you, and by extension, a handful of me. Neither of us knows how long the skin walker had been following you but it was more than just a day or two."

  All friendliness drops from Violetta's expression, and she gives Bailey one stroke on the head as she slowly straightens, making direct eye contact with me. "What?"

  With anyone else I would have concerns for my safety, but even though we are no longer together, I trust Violetta with my life.

  "Yeah, these paranormal crime scene technicians and officers took all the evidence. I think it’s an ongoing investigation, which is why Blake couldn't tell you, hence sending you to me."

  "How dare somebody follow me," she spat loud enough to make the older couple turn toward us.

  I give them my customer service smile and a nod. They glance between me and Violetta before returning their attention to the books in front of them. Violetta is clearly fuming. Even my smile can't cover that up. Her eyes sharpen and it isn't until they do that I realize she is looking over my shoulder. Her gaze focuses on me again.

  "Do you have any items at the auction this weekend?"

  The first tiny tendril of dread curls up my stomach. "Yes, why?" I have the distinct impression I am about to regret that question.

  "I need to get my hands on those photos. I've been hired to help work security for the auction. Me, a werelion whose name I keep forgetting, and a sorcerer named Derek. There are apparently a few high-value items, so they bulked up bringing in some private contractors on top of the usual security assigned to these events. Also, Priscilla has some items for sale, though she does not plan to be there on the day of. Their old family trinkets that, try as she might, she and her sisters can't use, their magic just isn't compatible with them so she figures she might as well make money by selling them. I'm willing to bet that either the extra security or people selling items are amongst those that got photographed. Or it could all be one big coincidence but neither you nor I believe in such things." The last part of her sentence hung in the air between us.

  "No, neither of us believe in coincidences," I comment unnecessarily.

  Could the skin walker have been monitoring people with items in the auction? Billy doesn't run the supernatural auctions the same way regular auctions do. There is no list of items other than the ones he and his staff have. People show up to the auctions and hope there is something of interest. It is to prevent theft or other issues. Could the skin walker pose as someone who works for Billy? Could they have gotten their hands on that list? Could the accomplices Blake and I are fairly certain the skin walker had, have that information?

  Part of me wants to back out of the auction but it is in my best interest to get rid of the vortex-holding compact and the Geyser’s eighth journal and I can't let one skin walker following people around impede me making money.

  "I don't like your expression, Jas," Violetta says slowly.

  Shaking my head, I give her my shop-owner smile. "It's fine, Violetta, I am thinking about whether I really want to be selling items at an auction requiring extra security like you, No name, and Derek."

  Violetta rolls her eyes at me again. "Perhaps I can convince Blake to let me look at those photos." Squinting her eyes, she taps her chin in thought.

  "He wouldn't even tell you what was happening. He sent you to come ask me. What on Earth makes you think he will loan you those photos?" My response is dripping with cynicism.

  Violetta frowns until a spark lights in her eyes and she smiles. I like nothing about this expression. Every time it appears it is about five minutes before I agree to something I never should agree to.

  "Jaaaaassssssssss ..." she purrs, elongating the A and S sounds.

  This does nothing to convince me the next thing out of her mouth will be a good idea. "Whatever it is, Vi, the answer is absolutely no. Hell no."

  Undeterred, her smile broadens. "You don't even know what the idea is yet."

  Looking past her, I glance at the customers in the room. Luckily, the two older, wire-thin elves are making their way toward the front of the store, and the relief is plain on my face.

  "Violetta, if you could step out of the way, I'd like to help these elves check out, please." I smile at her, moving my customer service expression back into place.

  Vi's smile shrinks down into a mischievous curl of her lips as she takes a few steps to the side to not crowd the elves with their handful of objects.

  I take my time helping the elves check out, not slow, but no one can argue I am rushing the process. I make friendly conversation with them, who chatter back innocently, totally unaware of the fact this is a delaying tactic. After them come a small rush of customers entering and making quick transactions or pick-ups. With each additional transaction it becomes clearer and clearer Violetta is holding back a laugh. Part of my pride bristles at my ex-fiancée finding me funny, but more of me is relieved. It gives me less time to be herded into whatever her cockamamie scheme is.

  About fifteen minutes and several hundred dollars in transactions later, I harrumph when I scan the store and find it's just me, Violetta, and Bailey. The last of whom gives up on anybody paying attention to her and flops on her bed, facing away from both of us. Violetta drifts back to her original place on the alternative side of the counter, grinning up at me with a fake innocence I see right through.

  "Are you ready to hear my idea yet?" The smile on her face is all predatory amusement.

  "Ugh fine, what is this thing I really shouldn't agree to that you're somehow going to convince me to do?" I finally relent, throwing my hands up in the air as I do so, probably more dramatically than necessary.

  Her smile broadens again. "That's the spirit—accept defeat now. You saw all of those pictures in the closet, right?"

  I eye her suspiciously. "Yes."

  "How about you let me dip in there." She taps her own temple with her pointer finger. "And check out that memory. It would be much faster than trying to get permission from Blake to check out those photos. Many of the things you remember would come in handy. In all the years we've been in each other’s lives, I know for a fact that when something strikes you in any way, you remember it forever. I'm willing to bet that a closet full of photos will be pretty clear."

  All I do for a moment is blink at her. As far as weird plans of Violetta's go, this is fairly benign. There has to be a more outrageous aspect to it. This is too straightforward. "What's the catch, Violetta?" I ask slowly, letting my suspicion saturate my
voice.

  She tilts her head slightly and shrugs, her eyes gently moving just past my head. "Nothing big. Even with you concentrating on that specific memory it's not an exact process. Should your mind wander or if you attached some other thought to it, I might catch some random other memories of yours at the same time."

  "Nope, nope, nope, nope, I do not want you wandering around in my head, picking up memories of mine willy-nilly." I slash my hands across my chest for emphasis.

  "Oh, come on, Jas, it'll be fine. What could you possibly be hiding in there that you worry about me seeing?"

  I'm not thinking about memories I don't want her to see. It is just the idea of her wandering around in there I don't like.

  Violetta crosses her arms across her chest and frowns. "Look, unless you've attached other memories to it, it should be fine. All you have to do is concentrate on what you saw in the closet until I'm done. That's it. If those people have objects in the auction, it'll help security out to watch those people closely. There also may be something they all have in common. And since you don't socialize with a lot of the magical community, you might not put it together." She says that last part slowly, knowing her words will sting. I don't attend supernatural events. The rest of the supernatural world wants me there even less that I want to be there.

  I glare at her a moment, warring with myself. If this really is a security issue, she needs a leg up on what the skin walker and whoever else was working with it might want. The question is if my sense of duty outweighs my discomfort at my ex-fiancée seeing my innermost thoughts. What if while she’s in there Violetta digs around in other memories? I can't put it past her. She is right though, she might catch something I missed, not having as much information about the supernatural world as she does.

  "Fine, but only the one memory, please. I'm trusting you to not dig around to who-knows-where." I shake my pointer finger at her.

  Violetta beams at me and it warms my heart a little, but I tap that emotion down.

  "Awesome. If you're okay, I can do it right now while there are no customers in the store."