Deadly Curiosities

by Gail Z. Martin

  “What do you know of white magic?” I decided an abrupt change of topic was appropriate.

  “You mean, like you’ve been able to call on, using the stored memories in an object as a source of power?”

  I nodded. Since I was self-taught when it came to my touch magic, I was always eager to learn. I hadn’t had a chance to discover what Uncle Evanston knew, and most of the time when Sorren was in town, there was too much going on for a lesson. I’d been making it up as I went, and I was coming to the conclusion that might not be a good thing.

  Sorren paused. “I was fortunate to have Alard as my maker. He mentored me in the Dark Gift. Those whose makers are not so generous, or who lose their makers too young, are not so lucky.”

  He shook his head. “Your ancestors were able to pass the store down from one generation to another with enough overlap to ‘train’ the incoming owner of Trifles and Folly. You were born with your gift, but how to use it doesn’t come naturally. Unfortunately, your Uncle Evan didn’t have the chance he’d hoped for to show you what to do.”

  “The family said he had a heart attack,” I said quietly. “But that’s not true, is it?”

  Sorren and I were long overdue for this conversation.

  Sorren pressed his lips together and then shook his head again. “In a manner of speaking. His heart stopped abruptly.”

  “Because someone – or something – killed him.” He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  Sorren looked at me, and I saw the full sorrow of the centuries in his eyes. “Evan had your heart for adventure. And like you, he was a gifted psychometric. He inherited the store from his father, who also had your gift. But he had the chance to work with his father for a decade before the store fell to him.”

  “Did any of my ancestors – the ones who owned Trifles and Folly – die of disease or old age?”

  Sorren shook his head. “No. Although members of your family believe otherwise.”

  I felt like the world around me was spinning. Baxter pawed at my leg to be picked up and I lifted him into my arms like a fuzzy little anchor to reality. Sorren’s words took my breath away, but at the same time, they weren’t a complete surprise.

  “What happened to Uncle Evan?”

  Sorren looked past me, as if he were reliving the memory. “We went looking for a particularly dangerous item, a watch that could enable the wearer to ‘jump’ into the skin of another person. The search took us to an old lunatic asylum in West Virginia,” he said quietly.

  “Psychiatric hospital,” I corrected without thinking, then remembered that six hundred year-old vampires weren’t always politically correct.

  He shrugged. “Words change, but not the beliefs of those who confine people.

  “The Alliance wanted to return the watch to a safe storage place,” Sorren continued. “We were up against a very powerful enemy who wanted the watch for himself. I fought the enemy, and Evan went after the watch. He was supposed to just keep it out of the line of fire but he touched it –”

  “And all the lives of everyone who had touched it coursed through him at the same time.”

  “Yes.” Sorren nodded and then paused. “Perhaps if he were younger or stronger… but it was more than his heart could take.”

  Sorrow lodged in my throat. Having been possessed by moments of other people’s lives, I did not want to think too hard about the power that had overwhelmed Evan.

  “He picked me to inherit the store. I remember the first time I met him. I was a little girl.”

  “What do you recall?” Sorren asked.

  I thought back. “He gave me a bracelet,” I said quietly. “And he asked me what I saw.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  I smiled, remembering that long ago day, my seventh birthday. “I told him a story about a dark haired girl with curls in a white dress who liked to chase ducks. He listened as I told him all about her.” I looked up and met Sorren’s gaze. “It was a test, wasn’t it? To see if I had the gift.”

  Sorren nodded. “Yes. He was very excited when he came back. He was so thrilled that someone in a new generation had the talent. Sometimes the magical gift skips a generation, and even then, Evan had an eye on retirement.”

  I stroked Baxter’s soft fur. “But he didn’t get to retire.”

  “No, he didn’t. And I mourn him, as I mourn all your ancestors, back to the first Evann, who opened this store when South Carolina was barely a colony.” I heard the sadness in his voice.

  “So there’s no retirement plan,” I said, but the humor sounded forced.

  Sorren looked at me and chuckled. “Cassidy – I am a very wealthy man. I take care of my own. I have never left one of my partners without support.”

  I returned his gaze. “Trifles and Folly isn’t the only store like this, is it?”

  He shook his head. “Over the centuries? No.”

  “And now?”

  A faint smile touched his lips. “There are several sister shops scattered around the world. All managed by someone with a gift that enables them to identify – and intervene – when dangerous objects come onto the market. From there, the Alliance takes over, as it does here.”

  “I want to find more things I can use to protect myself. I’m tired of getting knocked flat on my ass every time we go out.”

  Sorren nodded. “I agree. Your Uncle Evan was quite good with a number of weapons, both mundane and magical. You and Teag need protection.”

  Just then, the phone rang, and I jumped. I could tell from the caller display that it was Teag. “Just talking about you,” I said with as much cheer as I could muster. “What’s up?”

  “Is Sorren there?”

  “Yep.”

  “Mind if I come over? I’ve got some more information – and something to show you.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll put out some cookies. Come on over.”

  I looked up as the call ended. “I’m glad Teag called. If we’re going to decide what to do next, he should be part of it.”

  Sorren nodded. “That’s fine. Lucinda should be here in a few minutes as well.”

  Teag made it in record time. “Good evening,” he said cheerily.

  “I think that’s supposed to be my line,” Sorren said, with an utter deadpan delivery. It was so unexpected that I did a double-take. Maybe the fear of facing down the big bad darkness made me a little punchy, because I laughed harder than the joke was worth.

  Teag grabbed a soda from the fridge and came to sit down with us in my living room. A moment later, the doorbell rang, and I welcomed Lucinda into the room.

  “I know you say you don’t read minds,” I said, “but I had just been thinking that we really needed to invite Lucinda into this before we take the next step.”

  “That’s just common sense,” Lucinda replied. Tonight, she was dressed in a form-fitting black cami and a crinkled, loose cotton skirt. I glimpsed silver necklaces with the veves of several powerful Voudon Loa.

  Her hair was held back with a headband. It was quite a departure from the buttoned-down business suit-wearing professor. “Good. I’m glad we agree,” I said.

  “Now that Lucinda is here, we can get to one of the reasons I dropped by tonight,” Sorren said. “You wanted to be better able to protect yourself.” He said with a look in my direction. “I brought you something that will help you do that.”

  Sorren took a piece of amber from his pocket. It was circular, about the size of a stuffed mushroom, and the smooth amber surface had been carved with runes. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

  Teag frowned, thinking. “It’s a spindle whorl,” He said, finally making the connection. “They were used to weight the spindle and help twist fiber into thread.”

  Sorren nodded. “They used to be quite common. Long ago, people understood that there was magic in the process of weaving and spinning. It’s not a coincidence that it’s said that someone ‘spins�
�� a spell.

  Teag’s beginning to understand it, although he’s more prone to spin data than wool. Spinning whorls were thought to possess magic.”

  All traces of humor left his eyes. “This was a gift from a Viking Seior to my maker,” Sorren said. “I’ve seen its power.”

  I looked to Sorren and then to Lucinda. “I thought the Seiors died out back in the Dark Ages.” I’ve always loved mythology, and reading old legends and folktales has been a hobby since I was a kid.

  Sorren gave a half-smile. “I assure you, Secona is very much alive.”

  Mentally, I did the math. If Sorren was five hundred and some years old and Secona had given the whorl to Sorren’s maker, then both the staff and Secona were very, very old. Well, damn.

  “What does it do?” I asked. The thought of taking up the centuries-old spindle whorl of a Viking witch and wise woman gave me pause.

  Sorren’s smile was encouraging. “I don’t know what it will do for you. Why not try touching it and see how it speaks to you?”

  I could think of about a millions reasons why that might not be a good idea, but practicality won out. If we were going into a dangerously haunted facility to face down a demon, then I needed a better way to defend myself.

  I sighed and nodded my assent. “Okay. Pass it over. Probably better if I do this sitting down.”

  The whorl was a beautiful piece of amber. Its rich, clear color drew me down into its depths, into the one-of-a-kind bubbles and imperfections. I knew enough about weaving from Teag to know that a whorl weighted a distaff, which was a pole around which thread or yarn was coiled. Legends all over the world revered the distaff as a powerful and sacred tool for gaining divine guidance, cursing enemies and seeing into the future.

  I had no idea how such an ancient magical item might react to my touch. Lucinda came to stand on one side of me as Sorren brought me the whorl.

  “Honestly, Teag’s the Weaver,” I said. “It might be more in line with his Gift.”

  “And perhaps at another time we’ll test that but Lucinda has something else for Teag,” Sorren said giving a nod to Teag. “But you need something now. See how Secona speaks to you,” he urged.

  “Hold on,” I said, setting aside the spoon that was inside my sleeve. I thought about unclasping Bo’s collar, but left it wrapped around my wrist. I took a deep breath and held out both hands, palms up, to receive the whorl.

  The amber felt warm and smooth on my palms, and the whorl was heavier than I expected for its size. I sensed the incredible age of the whorl and the disillusionment that came with long existence. So much gone, never to return… Power thrummed through the amber. Every magical working leaves a residue. Magics great and small had been done with this whorl, and the echo of those spells clung to the smooth resin. She who wielded this piece had great magic. I remembered the name, Secona, and I saw a blonde woman wearing a blue cloak with a headpiece of black lambskin trimmed in white rabbit. A gem-inlaid mantle covered her

  shoulders and fell to the bottom of her skirts. Strings of glass beads hung around her neck, and a large leather bag was attached to a belt at her waist. She wore ermine gloves and carried a distaff set with a brass and stone top. She was old and very powerful, and across the ages, I sensed that she was looking at me, taking my measure.

  In my vision, Bo was at my side, a large and powerful guardian presence. He gave a wag of his tail and sat down, letting me know that the woman was not a threat.

  I felt my psychometric gift connect with the power of the whorl, and the vision of another place and time overwhelmed me. I saw rough-looking men clad in tunics and furs. They were tall, broad shouldered with red or blond hair. I saw them loading longboats with dragon figures on the prow, and I knew that I saw a Viking war party.

  I did not understand their language. I didn’t need to. I saw the raiders’ preparations through the eyes of a woman who moved among these men as an equal and was accorded the respect due a queen. She spoke and the men hastened to do her bidding. They brought her swords to bless and she spoke words of anointing over them. The tallest and strongest of the raiders, the man to whom all the fighters deferred, sought her counsel and listened gravely to her words.

  Wives and mistresses watched the boats sail from the shore, but Secona accompanied the warriors. I could feel the magic in her whorl, feel it channel power between the heavens and the sea, sense the energy that it drew from the world itself and fed back to her gift. Secona had made the whorl that I held in my hands, and it preserved a piece of her memories and her power, maybe even her consciousness.

  Centuries flickered and passed in a blur. Power grew stronger, deeper. Secona endured. Among the unfamiliar images, I glimpsed a face I knew. Sorren looked unchanged, but the world around him was that of centuries past. I felt a bond, sensed her fierce protection, and once again, power surged through the amber, cleansing and restoring as it passed.

  My eyelids fluttered open, and I felt unsteady, though I had not moved from my seat. Lucinda put a hand on my shoulder as Sorren carefully removed the whorl from my hands.

  “I saw… centuries,” I murmured.

  Sorren and Lucinda exchanged a telling glance. “I’d say the whorl will accept her,” Lucinda said.

  Sorren slipped the whorl into a small velvet bag and handed it to me. “Please keep this with you Cassidy from now on until we find an object better suited to you. Your gift makes you valuable – and vulnerable.”

  I saw an old sadness in Sorren’s eyes. Over the centuries, he had worked with many human allies to do the Alliance’s work. I knew for a fact that he had worked with at least ten generations of my own family.

  How many mortals had become his comrades? I wondered. Maybe even his friends, and what did it cost him to lose them to the dangers that went with the business?

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. It was difficult to shake off the impressions I had read from the whorl, and the power I had touched still tingled in my fingertips. “I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”

  “And you won’t, until you’re in the moment,” Lucinda said. “Magic is like that.”

  That was a little more seat-of-the-pants than I liked, but I had to admit it was probably true. I took a deep breath and laid a hand over Bo’s collar to calm myself, and I picked up Baxter when he danced around my knees for attention.

  “Cassidy and I did some snooping,” Teag said.

  Sorren looked like he was about to launch into a reprimand, but I raised a hand to forestall his comments. Sorren and Lucinda listened as we recounted our visit to Flora, our calls to the former renters, and the stranger Flora had nicknamed Clockman.

  “I don’t think there’s any question that the storage unit is where we’ll find Moran and his demon,” I summarized. “What I want to know is how we’re going to deal with them when we find them.” I met Sorren’s gaze. Even now, I think my willingness to stare him down still surprised him. “Do you think we can stop them, and end the killings? And will getting rid of Moran and the demon put the haunted objects right again?”

  “Yes, I think they can be stopped, and yes, I think that will end the killings and most likely stop the hauntings,” Sorren replied, but I sensed a cautionary note in his voice. “The difficulty comes in the number of attempts it takes to find the right approach, and the price to be paid.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that at all and I was guessing Teag didn’t either from the way he tightly folded his arms.

  If this had been a movie, I imagine that right then, there would have been a loud clap of thunder or the lights would have suddenly gone out, or the wind would have blown a shutter loose. When the moment passed and absolutely nothing startling happened, it seemed anticlimactic, as if the director had missed his cue.

  “We can even the odds as much as possible by bringing in help,” Lucinda said. “That’s one reason Sorren asked me to join you. As you saw at the Archive, I have skills,” she said with a hint of a grin. “In Voudon,
you’re never alone, and I’ll bring my family ghosts and ask the Loas to lend us a hand.”

  She leveled a conspiratorial look that seemed designed to lift my spirits. “And I have asked my sister seers to send me their power. You’ll see. We’ll give Moran and his demon a run for their money.”

  I suspected that both Lucinda and Sorren were far too experienced at these kinds of things to be cocky about the odds for success. Still, Lucinda’s confidence and the revelation that we had more back-up than I expected did cheer me up a little. I looked to Sorren.

  “What are you bringing to the party? Legions of the undead? An Alliance hit squad?”

  Sorren looked askance at me. “The undead would not be of help, even if I could summon them.” “Alliance hit squad… I like that.” Teag volunteered.

  I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t mean it literally. I meant, what tricks do you have up your sleeve to increase the odds that we all make it back in one piece?”

  “I’ve heard from the demon hunter. That’s as close to a ‘hit squad’ as I can come. He’ll come to my house tonight,” Sorren said. “I’d like all of you to meet him. It would be good to do our planning on safe ground.”

  He gave a wan smile. “As for ‘tricks up my sleeve,’ my only magic is the Dark Gift,” Sorren added. “My maker left me a few magical relics. You held one of them in your hands. I apologize for the oversight in not having collected it sooner.” He paused. “The whorl did not accept Evan. Perhaps Secona favors you.”

  “You said that your… maker… received the whorl from a Viking witch,” I said. “Is she a vampire too? If she’s immortal, can you get her to help us out?”

  Sorren looked away, and his expression was unreadable. I saw sadness, regret, and other emotions I could not place. “Secona has slipped farther and farther from the mortal realm with every passing century – more so than the rest of us. She was not a vampire. She is… other. I have not seen her in several lifetimes. The last time I asked for her intervention, she did not heed my call.”

  He didn’t need to add that Secona’s lack of help had caused a tragedy. I could see that in his gaze. It was also apparent that, however long ago the betrayal had occurred, the memory still hurt him deeply.