The Curious Case of the Cursed Dagger (Curiosity Shop Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Constance Barker

  Clarence laughed as we took seats and were handed tea. “I agree. In fact, even just my story is going to be a little ragged in spots. At some points... Well, I’m having a rough time sorting out the real from imagined."

  I smiled at him. “The things we were made to see, or our interpretations of what we actually saw were pretty vivid, I'd say.”

  Enid clapped her hands. “Then we should have each of you tell the story in turn as if it was the only one. Then maybe, working together, we can get an idea of what really happened, using Edgar’s perspective as a guideline.”

  “Makes, sense,” I said. "But first I need to know something that’s been driving me crazy. A couple of things, actually.”

  I stared at Albert who shifted uncomfortably in his seat and raised his eyebrows as he looked back at me. “You have a question for me? I saw very little of what happened. We didn’t get there until after Bel had already disarmed Clarence.”

  “This question is one only you can answer, Albert. It isn’t about Traverse or the dagger. I want to know what you were talking about when you warned Beatrice about stepping to the right or left when you entered the Grand Storehouse."

  He chuckled. "Oh, that. It’s nothing big.”

  Enid looked surprised. “You can move freely in that space?”

  He nodded. “A little.”

  “Albert, given how little I understand about that place, anything you can tell me could be very helpful.”

  “Okay. The times we’d been in there, I paid close attention. For whatever reason, I seldom seemed to be at the center of the action, so I was able to observe the way things worked. I noticed some things that seem random, but when you watch carefully, you see that they are really very consistent. Locally consistent, but globally random, I call it.”

  “The Grand Storehouse has a logic to it?” I asked.

  He grimaced. “Let’s not over estimate what I learned. I don’t know much about the Grand Storehouse, but I worked out a few things about how you can navigate it.”

  “That could be incredibly useful,” Enid said.

  “I hope so. But I’m just starting. So far, what I’ve learned is that each door that accesses the Grand Storehouse, whether going in or out of it, leads to more than one place. If you’ll recall, when we entered through Enid’s door, we’ve always gone straight ahead. We didn’t think about it much, but as disorienting as the place is, I figured out that doing so always will lead us to the same place on the inside. But then, holding a key, I experimented and found that if you turn to the left, take a sidestep as you enter, you wind up in front of a door. If you exit through that door, moving to the right, it pops you out at our house, entering it through the utility room.”

  “Wow. And it is consistent?”

  “Seems to be. Each door seems to have a set of places it leads to or from. You can’t just reverse things and get back where you were, but in each direction, the set of destination remains constant. That’s what I mean by locally consistent. But each door has a different set of destinations. That’s what I mean by globally random.”

  “So if we made a map...” I said excitedly.

  “That’s what I’m doing. I’ve only mapped out three doors so far, it’s a tricky business at best, and I have to be careful, but I think when I get done, I can give us directions that will ensure we can use the Grand Storehouse as an effective shortcut to go wherever we want."

  As Enid refilled our cups with tea, Beatrice put her hand on her son’s shoulder. "Albert is being modest, as usual. The truth is that he has a real knack for knowing, guessing he calls it, where various doors will open and a certain facility for opening them from inside the Storehouse so that he winds up wherever he wants to go."

  “So you can use a doorway to open where you want it?”

  "Some of the time," he said. "I can't explain how it works. Not yet."

  "I wouldn't want you to if you could," Beatrice said. "That's just far too much information for me to handle." Then she handed me the plate of cookies. "Albert inherited that ability from his father, I suspect. The man had some talents and for the oddest things."

  "So now the dagger is stored safely?" I asked.

  "Oh my, yes," Beatrice said. "We double boxed the fool thing and left it in a remote corner, assuming the Storehouse has any actual corners. The way it messes around with dimensions is unsettling."

  "Almost everything we touch is unsettling in its own charming way," I said. "Why should one of the most potent things we encounter be any different?"

  Putting her fingers to her face Beatrice thought for a moment. "I never thought of it quite that way, Cecelia. That's rather a clever way of putting it all into a larger, more comprehensive context. How delightfully clever."

  I wanted to know more and I was sure she was holding back a lot of information. "Back in Traverse, Bel said something about that dagger being the same one that Brutus used to kill Caesar. Is there any truth in that at all?"

  Beatrice nodded. "Well, we think it is. It’s hard to be certain, and none of us is actually a historian, except for you, of course.”

  Albert grinned. “Except when it comes to curses. You are pretty on top of those, Mother.”

  “There is that,” she said. “The story goes that Brutus, who was terribly conflicted by having to kill Caesar, hid it after the assassination. It wasn’t so much that he was afraid of being caught with it, it was more as a kind of embarrassment, I understand."

  "I can understand that feeling, that need," Clarence said, giving me a strange glance. “The man wanted to do right, and had just gone against one set of principles to support another set.”

  "Perhaps that’s what it was, but regardless of his motives, it disappeared. Ever since then, stories have come up about it reappearing, and always associated with an assassination. Then, sometime around the day President William McKinley was shot...”

  “September sixth, 1901,” I blurted out.

  She smiled. “I’ll take your word for it, dear. Anyway, it was widely thought at the time that the assassin, Leon Czolgosz had not acted alone.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Emma Goldman, the anarchist, was held for three weeks before being released without being charged.”

  Albert coughed. “That, of course, was just a way to put her on notice that the government was not thrilled with her activities. There was another group that formed in the late 1800’s, a secret group, that might have been more involved. Their symbol was a dagger. We think it was a branch of the Cabal.”

  “A branch? There is more than one branch of them?”

  “Possibly.”

  “And less widely reported,” Beatrice went on, “there was a casual mention of someone seeing Leon Czolgosz with an actual dagger in his hand the day before the assassination. It was never verified, but that was the last sighting of it, that we know of, of course, until now, although there were some rumors of it appearing a bit later, around 1924, in the hands of Gavrilo Princip.”

  “Who was that?” Clarence asked, looking at me.

  Out of politeness, I let Beatrice answer. She smiled her thanks. “He was the man, a Serbian, who assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria.”

  “Oh, the guy who started World War One,” Clarence said.

  “Not alone. Again, there were confederates.”

  I considered that information. It all fit. “So, if the dagger we have is the one Brutus used, it has a rather lengthy pedigree of assassinations.”

  Beatrice nodded. “There is a lot of assumption there, but its appearance at significant assassinations defies coincidence and we know that it all fits with the way temporal echo artifacts like to work. Of course, there is no certainty. A lot is unknown and it was always gone again once the deed was done."

  "So it can appear anywhere?"

  "We don’t know how it traveled. Odd isn’t it, that it could be transported without other assassinations taking place.”

  “Almost as if it was stored in a cursed box?”
/>
  “Enchanted, dear,” Enid said. “Get it right.”

  Beatrice agreed. “It seems that is a possibility that we know is real. Although how or why it somehow got stuck in the little town of Traverse for the last fifty years is challenging to sort out.”

  “So you knew about this dagger?”

  “Of course. It's been on our watch list of dangerous artifacts since shortly after the fall of Rome."

  I looked at Enid. “Why didn’t you know?”

  She shook her head. “This is the first I’ve ever heard of a watch list.”

  “Really?” Beatrice looked shocked. “Albert, see that Enid is put on the email distribution list as soon as we get home.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “And if everyone, all the Antique Dealers knew about it, I wonder why it wasn't mentioned at all in Mason's journal?" Clarence asked.

  That made Beatrice sigh. "Mason didn't always pay attention to the rest of us," Beatrice said. "He often went off on his own and seldom even attended meetings.”

  “We have meetings?” I asked.

  “Not anymore.” I thought she said that rather quickly, as if burying it. “But anyway, Mason didn't usually review the watch list or pay much attention to the larger group’s efforts when it came to artifacts. Except for working with Enid, he was a bit of a loaner. He insisted that he preferred to focus on his own list of important or suspected artifacts. Perhaps that one was so obvious to him that he didn't think it was worth a mention."

  That seemed odd to me. "So he didn't discuss his reasoning for listing objects in his journal? That must’ve resulted in a lot of duplication."

  "I couldn’t say, Cecelia. We never knew about the journal, had no idea it existed, until you told us.”

  “Wow. There is a lot more in that dynamic than I can digest right now.”

  “Well, now it's your turn to tell the story. Tell us everything that happened, so we can learn more about how the artifact works." She looked at the others. “Wait until they’ve all told their stories before asking any questions,” she said.

  So I took a deep breath and began, telling the story from my point of view, trying not to look at Clarence. I was sure that I’d see things on his face, expressions that would make me doubt the accuracy of my memories.

  Then Clarence, stumbling a lot and seeming ill at ease, told it from his perspective. I found it spooky to hear about how he’d watched me grow power mad and begun weaving conspiracy theories. From his point of view, he’d been so upset and worried by that, and caught up in thwarting my evil intentions that when the dagger appeared, he hardly noticed. By then he wasn't thinking of the artifact at all. "It was just a convenient tool,” he said. “It wasn't until Bel called it an artifact and tried to take it from me that I remembered why we were there. But by then I was firmly in two places at once. I don't think I've ever been so confused."

  When Clarence finished, Edgar took a turn. "I can't provide a lot of detail," he said. "Even though I wasn't influenced by the artifact, as far as I can tell, something about Bel obscured a lot for me. He radiates the same kind of energy that some artifacts do. Not to mention that just when things get interesting, someone, although I will refrain from naming names, took great pleasure in stuffing me back in the pen box. It’s hard to know what’s happening when you are locked in a box."

  "I’m sorry," I said. "But you do tend to start screaming at me when things get stressful and it gets tiresome."

  "I? Scream? That is utter nonsense, Cecelia.”

  “Actually, you do,” Clarence said. “I hate to say it buddy, but...”

  “They are engaging in a smear campaign,” Edgar told Beatrice. “At times like that, I am ever the gentle, yet persistent voice of reason."

  Beatrice laughed. "Which is to say you can be quite a nag. No wonder Cecelia wants to lock you up."

  "Regardless of that, you've added a significant bit to the narrative, Edgar," Enid reassured him. "Your view is very helpful."

  I could see that Edgar liked hearing the compliment and I felt bad about being so hard on him. “I am sorry, Edgar.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  They all looked at each other. “You know, I see what Cecelia meant,” Beatrice said. “There is too much to digest in all that. We did learn that the artifact functions as we imagined, appearing when summoned by specific conditions. Beyond that...” she sighed.

  "For now, I think I need Albert to get me home," Beatrice said, standing. Albert moved toward the door.

  "Call me when you get home," Enid said.

  "Of course, dear," Beatrice said. She walked over and touched my shoulder."Cecelia, would you mind walking us to the door?"

  I stood up. "Not at all." I had a hunch she wanted more than to say goodbye privately, so I let her take my arm and we walked down the hallway, toward the door to Enid's spare room, rather than to the front door. "You two, you three, I should say, have become quite a formidable team," Beatrice said. "You are getting well known throughout the Antique Dealer community."

  I hoped that was a good thing.

  "I'm flattered that you think we are getting better," I said. "We are learning a lot, at least I think we are."

  "You are innovative and resourceful and that’s necessary, not just important.”

  “Thank you again.”

  “However...” you knew that was coming, right? I did.

  “But you must learn to be more careful."

  "I try to be."

  Her smile suggested she didn't believe me. "Are you?"

  "I try to be. Sometimes it seems more important to act quickly than cautiously."

  "At times that is certainly true. But also, keep in mind that you aren't alone. There is a team, a network of Antique Dealers out there and we are happy to help out."

  "I tend to forget that."

  "And also remember that calling for help isn’t a sign of weakness. Even experienced and clever Dealers can use a spot of help from time to time."

  "I know. And we really appreciated you showing up when you did," I said. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't."

  "And the reason we were there was due to your panicked call to Enid. My point is that Enid shouldn't have had to call us. If you'd called as soon as you saw things getting complicated, we could've helped. We might have been able to tell you about Belial, for instance. And although Enid didn't know about the dagger, I did."

  I was embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

  "Just don't be hesitant to call for backup when things are a bit sticky. Life and death situations should be treated as such."

  "I will," I said. "It would've helped if you'd been there sooner."

  "And Enid won't always know that you've gotten in too deep."

  "True."

  "Now we really need to get home," Albert said, reaching for the bedroom door.

  "I take it you're going to travel through the Storehouse?" I asked.

  Beatrice smiled. "With Albert developing his ability to navigate, it turns out to be very convenient. Why? Do you think we shouldn't?"

  The idea made my stomach churn slightly. "But isn't that just another case of us using the artifacts, this enormous one, in this case, to achieve our own ends? The goal might be benign, but we criticize the Cabal for doing that."

  Beatrice looked thoughtful. "Mason and Enid fought over that a lot. Please don't tell her, but we, Albert and I, take the view that Mason was right. It might be foolish not to use the artifacts in the struggle. We try to monitor their influence on us, but at the same time, I doubt we can win the battle without using them."

  "We each need to determine our own position on that," Albert said. "And for mother and I, while we use the Grand Storehouse more than most Dealers are comfortable with, both to transit quickly and to store artifacts safely, we avoid most other artifacts and never rely on spells or potions, except the boxes. I guess we do rely on the ones intended to contain the bad."

  "And we avoid the powerful cursed object mostly becau
se we don't understand all of their ramifications," Beatrice said, "whereas, as I said, Albert has a facility with the Storehouse."

  Albert nodded. “We don’t like the side effects that come with using most artifacts.

  "I see. It's something to think about." They were right. In some ways, at times, we all resorted to using artifacts to some degree. The cursed dice had actually saved Clarence and I, and Lila, in Las Vegas. None of us were purists and each had to find a balance that suited them, apparently. Again, without a user manual...

  I watched Albert open the door to Enid's spare bedroom, holding it for Beatrice. "Step straight ahead, mother and don't hesitate. I don’t want to have to look for you in Chicago this time."

  "But that side trip was entirely enjoyable," she said.

  Speaking of side effects.

  "Nonetheless..."

  And they were gone, hopefully home and not in Chicago.

  I heard footsteps and turned to see Clarence coming from the living room. "Enid is brewing more tea," he said. "You need to help me drink it."

  "My bladder is already afloat.”

  “But I’m expected to eat those cookies she makes.”

  “All right. I’ll take my share of the burden."

  He took my arm. "By the way, I wanted to apologize to you...”

  “For what?”

  “Well, I was thinking about me almost killing you, or trying to. I’m sorry I was so weak that it could make me want to do that."

  I laughed. "The irony is that you only got caught up in the curse because you are my best friend."

  "Your Brutus?"

  "Oh, you are much better than my Brutus. You’re a regular best friend. You didn't kill me."

  He considered that. "I'm your best friend?"

  I reached up and touched his cheek. "Yes, you are. Of course. And the truth is that if someone had to assassinate me I'd rather it was you." Those words made him smile happily as I'd hoped they would. "And I want to apologize to you as well. Neither of us seemed to have the presence of mind to notice the artifact had arrived and was taking control."

  "Or to even listen to an impartial ghostly warning or six," Edgar huffed.