Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Acknowledgement

Acknowledgements

A Note to the Reader

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Thanks for reading Rise of the Catalyst!

Other books by Honor Raconteur

Author

Published by Raconteur House

Plymouth, MI

RISE OF THE CATALYST

Ancient Magicks Artifact 1

A Raconteur House book/ published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2022 by Honor Raconteur

Cover by Natasha Snow

This book is a work of fiction, so please treat it like a work of fiction. Seriously. References to real people, dead people, good guys, bad guys, stupid politicians, companies, restaurants, cats with attitudes, events, products, dragons, locations, pop culture references, or wacky historical events are intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Or because I wanted it in the story. Characters, names, story, location, dialogue, weird humor, and strange incidents all come from the author’s very fertile imagination and are not to be construed as real. No, I don’t believe in killing off main characters. Villains are a totally different story.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

Purchase only authorized editions.

For information address: www.raconteurhouse.com

Acknowledgements

Huge hugs, respect, and love to my history researcher, RC. I seriously underestimated how much research this book would take and he saved my bacon.

Much love and kudos to all of my betas, who find all the flaws and sing all the praises.

As always, thanks to my editing team. The book doesn’t really shine until they’ve gone through it. Usually gone through it too many times to count.

Any remaining mistakes are mine. And RC’s. ’Cause he said so.

A Note to the Reader

As most of you who have read Case Files are aware, I like to pull from history. Anything I see that intrigues me, or fits into the world I’ve created, will become a part of the story. That said, I’ve never actively pulled from history as strongly in a series as I did with Ancient Magicks.

When I started the series, I knew that I would base it heavily on history. I wanted to draw upon the history in North America that we never really got taught in school. Of course, I can’t write a steampunk series and tell history with complete accuracy, but I danced along that fine line as much as I could.

The places, cultures, and some of the people I mention in this book are real. The Anasazi were an incredibly powerful culture that existed before the American Indian tribes ever stepped foot on the land. Their disappearance is a mystery to this day. The Wetherill family also existed and are still controversial in Chaco Canyon. I had to cherry pick what to use, what to include, and some of it I spun for the sake of the story. If you run across anything not historically accurate, chalk it up to artistic license.

That said, for the history buffs out there, do read up on the Anasazi. They’re incredibly fascinating.

One

When potential clients asked me to meet them at some random, outside location, I knew there was an issue. Either they wanted to keep the little magical problem of theirs under the table, which was the usual reason, or something had seriously gone wrong and they wanted to keep their distance from the point of impact.

I wondered which category the Boston Museum director fell into.

I preferred discretion, as anything that scared people was definitely the more problematic to deal with.

I sat outside a café, my friend and companion Flo at the little table with me. Boston was unexpectedly warm and gorgeous today, and we wanted to take full advantage. I did try to keep my back to the sky and my body in the shade, however. The color of the sky was the perfect shade of blue to mess with my sight. Sky blue and I were not friends. I kept my tinted glasses firmly on to mitigate the piercing color as much as possible. It was better I had the glasses on anyway. My eyes were strange to look at and often unnerved people upon first meeting. It also inevitably led to questions I didn’t want to answer.

I wondered how much the museum director knew of me. Would he question my ability to do the job since I was a visually-impaired woman? Would he question my glasses, or did he know enough about me not to pose the rude questions people liked to aim my direction? Hopefully, he knew my reputation and wouldn’t ask the rude questions.

Hopefully.

“Want to place a bet?” I asked Flo. “Are we meeting here because the issue is that bad? Or because he’s trying to be discreet?”

“Director of the Boston Museum…” Flo murmured in her throaty New England alto. “I’ll bet on discreet.”

“I’ll say disaster, then. Usual bet?”

“Usual bet.” Flo paused and regarded me. “Arwen, are you sure you want to pick up another job? We just finished the last two back to back and have barely been in Boston two days. I thought you wanted to take a mini vacation.”

I shrugged. Our last case had ended here—rather spectacularly, if I did say so myself. I’d been called because a private curator had bought something off the black market that he truly should not have: a cursed painting. Or at least, it had liked to seduce people and drive them mad. Turned out it had been possessed by the mad painter who’d created it, so a little exorcism, apply lead foil and some fire, problem solved. Two days for one case was nice, and I’d enjoyed the ending of it immensely. Fire was incredibly therapeutic.

“If the director has an emergency on his hands, there’s no helping it.” His note had sounded desperate. Or at least, the multiple exclamation marks had certainly given that impression.

“Mm, true. I just don’t want us to overdo it like last year.”

I shuddered. “Heavens above, let’s absolutely avoid doing that.”

Last year had been back-to-back cases, some of them overlapping. In retrospect, I honestly don’t know how we managed. My little team had been dragging by the end of the year, and we were so glad to see winter hit that we’d almost cried tears of joy. We’d all gone home and slept for a good month. I’d promised to be choosier on our projects from then on and not just take whatever came my direction. It had been something of a learning curve. This year was only the third year I’d been in business. I was still both gaining a reputation and learning how to pace myself.

All that said, I did lean toward taking on jobs more often than not. It was a matter of prudence, really. I had a very unique skill set, and it wasn’t like there were many people in my career. If I turned down the job, the person with the problem didn’t have much—if any—other recourse.

“Ah.” Flo turned, tracking someone coming toward us along the busy sidewalk. “I would bet that’s him. Harried, middle-aged man, wrinkled brown suit, and an expression that looks like the world is ending.”

“Probably him,” I agreed calmly, turning to look also. I appreciated her description. I could see general shapes, light and dark, and blurs of color. Finer details were beyond me entirely. My glasses had a charm to help bring things into focus, though they could only help so much. Without them, however, the world was even more a blur. Flo picked up cues I could not, and she was accustomed to describing things to me just to make sure I hadn’t missed something.

The man stopped at our table. Whatever description he had of me, it wasn’t a good one. He looked at Flo first. “Ms. Arnoult?”

“No, I’m Florence McGrath,” she corrected, gesturing toward me. “This is Arwen Arnoult.”

“Oh. Oh, dear me, I’m sorry.”

It was an honest mistake many people made. Flo had nearly twenty years on my own twenty-four, and she looked like the responsible, professional type of person one would contact. She dressed respectably, too, usually in a linen suit tailored for her pear-shaped build. She always kept her straight black hair put up in a tidy bun, her hat flattering her oval face. (The last part was something Flo had assured me, quite confidently.)

Then there was me. Nothing about me was formidable at first glance. I was tall and slender, my curly dark hair refused to be tamed by any hair oil, and I preferred wearing culottes over dressing “respectably.” Scandalous, I know. And while 1910 was more progressive than any previous decade, my age and gender worked against me a lot of the time. Female magicians went into healing arts, generally speaking. It was rare to find a woman with my abilities outside that field, much less in a field that required hazard pay and was considered men’s work. Most people made the assumption that I couldn’t handle whatever problem they possessed.

At least, not until they saw me at work. Then their opinions abruptly reversed.

This man, though, after that second of hesitation, got over his mistake quickly. In jerky, agitated motions, he pulled a chair away from the table. “My colleague who referred you barely gave me a name and an idea of which hotel you were staying at. I didn’t think to ask for a description of you. I hope you’re not offended.”

I gave him a smile to put him at ease. “Not at all. I assume you’re Director Downes?”

“Yes, quite so, sorry.” He sat abruptly in the chair opposite mine, yanking out a handkerchief to wipe at his temples. The man was rattled enough to make coffee nervous. Looking at him, I got the general impression of a bulldog’s temperament, although that was mostly from his energy. The fine lines of energy coiling about in his person were neither dominant nor impressive. A sweet man, just not overly bright.

I had a feeling I was going to win that bet with Flo. “Director, take your time. Just start at the beginning. You said in your note that something disastrous happened to the museum. What did you mean by that?”

“It can only be one thing,” he said, looking around nervously, as if he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

At this hour of the afternoon, people were very much on their own business. Boston’s population seemed to be like any other large city. They minded themselves, with little curiosity for what other people were doing. The rattling of carriages and the few automobiles on the road served as sufficient noise coverage as long as the director didn’t start shouting.

I encouraged him with a wave. “Please, speak comfortably. No one’s paying any attention to us. Should I order you some tea?”

“No, thank you, I couldn’t possibly get anything down right now.” He grasped the table, clenching his hands hard enough along the edge of the metal to break bones. Sucking in a loud, noisy breath, he found words and spoke. “Ms. Arnoult, I understand you are both discreet and an expert in the…unusual.”

“I am, yes.” Expert might be pushing it, really. I always figured it out in the end, though.

“This is highly unusual. I’ve never heard of or seen the like, and I’ve been in archaeology for nigh on three decades. Roughly one week ago, we acquired a perfectly preserved specimen, a mummy in full religious clothing. It was quite an exciting acquisition at the time, an almost perfect example of Incan religious garb. We immediately brought it in and carefully started to clean and sort the pieces—cataloguing them, you understand.”

I nodded, showing I was following along. It was standard practice from what I knew of museum workings.

“When we removed the mask is when things took a turn for the worse. At first, I wasn’t sure what was wrong with my employees. People kept trying to put the mask on, like we were at some sort of carnival. I had to supervise them myself when the mask was out of its box.”

Now there was a disturbing mental image. “What happens if the mask is put on?”

“I had no intention of finding out. I made sure that didn’t happen.”

“Wise of you,” Flo murmured. “It can’t be just that?”

“I wish that was the only complaint I had. I could put that down to mischief. No, things abruptly became strange yesterday. The stones…the very stones of the building started moving. Spinning in place!”

I blinked at him, sure I wasn’t understanding this right. “Wait. The stones started spinning? Like—” I reached for the spoon on my saucer and spun it on the table in demonstration. “Like that?”

“Precisely! Only in the room where the mask was being held, fortunately. I shudder to think of what would happen if the entire building suffered from this. The integrity of the building in that corner is already in question. I—” He mopped at his forehead again, voice strangled and going up an octave. “I have no idea what to do about this. I’d have already thrown the thing into the sea, but I fear what that might do to me. I haven’t directly touched it.”

“Nor should you,” I said firmly. “If the mask started acting up when you removed it from the mummy, did you try putting it back on?”

He stayed perfectly still, as if struck by this thought. “Well…no?”

Really? That was the first thing I’d have tried. Then again, most people didn’t think like me.

“Miss Arnoult, have you seen anything like this before?”

“Spinning stones is a new one, I must admit. Still, not the most dangerous thing I’ve encountered.” Definitely the oddest, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

I thought of the repercussions of leaving the mask in place. It wasn’t something I felt comfortable ignoring or passing along to someone else. The situation had already escalated to the point that it now endangered multiple people and a building. Left alone for much longer, it could only get worse from here. Even the delay of contacting someone else to try and deal with it might be the museum’s undoing. There were other people in my field—granted, not many—and some of them were quite good, but…well, finding them was always the issue. They were often out of touch because they were on some job or another. In impossibly remote locations, no less.

I was inclined to take the job, even though I had no sure approach. If nothing else, I wanted to see what this was. I felt a little thrill of adrenaline go through me. Challenges always did that to me, and this would certainly be a challenge. It was part of the reason why I had chosen this career. I’d much rather pit my wits against ancient magick than stay at home being decorative.

I gave him a smile. “Director, I’m inclined to help you. Let’s discuss price and particulars after I see the problem. If we can agree to terms, then I’ll start immediately.”

He shuddered with visible relief. “My dear Ms. Arnoult, I’m relieved to hear that you think you can still do something about this. Can I ask what your general prices are?”

I went with the higher end, as I had a notion it would take many consultations with other experts and a lot of travel to sort this problem out. “It depends on the problem. If this is something I can solve immediately on sight, then I only charge one hundred dollars or so. If this requires that I travel, then it’s a two-thousand-dollar up-front fee. You cover all travel expenses.”

I heard his little squeak of dismay. It did seem obscene at first glance.

I gave a slight shrug of my shoulders, both hands splayed. “I have a team of four people who help me with these things, and that price covers consultation fees with experts. You won’t receive a follow-up bill from me once travel expenses are reimbursed.”

“Oh,” he said in a small voice. Then his shoulders firmed, head coming up. “I want this thing out of my museum. What other terms?”

“I need all the paperwork that came with this artifact. Any provenance, receipts, all information. If I’m to deal with it, I must know as much as I can. ”

His body language shrank back in. Still, he agreed. “Everything I know, I’ll tell you. Please, let’s hurry to the museum. I shudder to think of what’s happened in my absence. I’ll write you a check before you leave with the mask. Assuming you can solve this, of course.”

“Of course. Then let’s go,” I encouraged him.

He was up from the table with alacrity. “I’ll hail a taxi for us.”

I let him go, taking a moment longer to finish off the last of my tea before rising as well. I straightened out my culottes as I moved from the table, adjusting my bag to hang off my left shoulder. Seems I’d won the bet. Flo owed me a foot massage.

Flo leaned in to murmur, “Spinning stones? How can we possibly travel safely with a mask that makes stones move?”

“That is my question, too. I’ve got everything on me necessary for a quick seal. I’ll start with that. I can’t make promises until I lay eyes on this thing. Why would an Incan religious mask have that effect? It makes no sense. That’s not what their religious practices encompassed. I don’t think.”

“Not from what I know of them,” she agreed, sounding troubled.

What I knew, Flo basically knew. She was the one who read everything to me, after all. Just speaking of the mask wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know in order to plan ahead. The director might be able to tell me the origin of the mask, but he was in no way equipped to read its magical or spiritual energy. I could see the energy perfectly, which was why I needed to lay eyes on the mask and ask more questions later.

The director was quick to catch a taxi, and we loaded in with all due speed, him in the front seat with the driver. The carriage wheels made a loud clatter on the streets that I paid little attention to. I made a mental inventory of what was in my bag, trying to think of a few strategies ahead of time so I didn’t fumble on site. There were several possible seals I could try, although how compatible Shinto seals were with Incan spiritual magick was anyone’s guess. Mixing any two religions’ spiritual magick was a gamble. Sometimes they worked together, sometimes they didn’t. If they were compatible on a base level, then I could blend them without incident. If they weren’t inclined to play with each other… There were approximately a million words in the English language, yet I could still never string enough of them together to explain how catastrophically two different types of magical energy could collide. You’d have better luck licking a tree and hoping for maple syrup.

All I could do at this point was hope for the best.

Two

I entered the museum with my hand tucked into Flo’s elbow, letting her guide me. Walking through a museum was always an interesting experience for me. I didn’t see it the way any other visitor might. They could look at the displayed pieces and see the surface, the textures and materials the items were made of. They could read the plaques at the base that told something of their history.

I looked at the artifacts and saw their energy composition, sometimes faint, sometimes overwhelmingly strong. I saw the history entwined in the items, their age and power, sometimes a hint of their purpose. These artifacts were bundles of lines, pulsating with energy, occasionally with very strong colors that hinted at their origins.

Useful, for my career. Otherwise annoying, as I couldn’t really play tourist. Sometimes, I came into places and saw something so dangerous that I had to warn the owners. Trying to explain that the innocent-looking jewelry under a glass box might kill people was always a fun experience.

I digressed.

The director took us not through not the front entrance but through a side door meant for employees. Discretion, I assumed. Or this was a more direct route than me trotting through all the front rooms. The hallway was dim, which didn’t help my vision any, but fortunately short. I kept hold of Flo’s arm so she could guide me in case of something too small for my eyes to readily pick up.

We stepped through a doorway and down a short flight of three steps that opened into a much larger room, which I assumed to be a workroom. It had all the smells of one, at least, with packing paper, must, cleaning supplies, and a hint of the grave clinging to the walls. This was no doubt the first staging room where artifacts were initially brought in, cleaned, categorized, and prepared for display.

I paid little attention to anything on the tables. I couldn’t—my entire focus was on the walls themselves. When the director had described the situation, he hadn’t been exaggerating.

The stones of the walls were literally spinning in place.

I regarded them with a fascinated stare, abruptly halting my progress into the room. Strange enough to see stone move under its own locomotion, granted, but this… The energy overlaying it was something else entirely. I’d never seen the like. Each brick rotated in place, spinning much like a top but with a slower speed. They made a groaning, scraping sound of stone against stone as they moved, which was both more annoying than nails against a chalkboard and decidedly more alarming.

Delicate, pulsating, reddish-brown tendrils of energy touched each moving brick. The energy seemed almost…musical? Like a deep hum given shape in the form of light, something that called and pulled at the stones.

“My god,” I murmured, perplexed. “What even is this?”

Flo turned in place, shifting from foot to foot uneasily. “What are you seeing?”

“This is the strangest magick I’ve ever seen. It’s not even physical, not really. It’s melodic. Somehow, it’s drawing upon earth power, too. I’m really…” I trailed off, at a loss for how to describe it further. I saw no obvious catalyst to the energy, but it was bright in my vision, like lightning in a dark sky.

Director Downes hovered near my other elbow, as anxious as a mother hen with people in her coop. “Ms. Arnoult, can you do something about this?”

“Wait, I need to see the mask first. That’s…over here, it seems.” I walked with only a little of Flo’s assistance to a table tucked into a back corner. There was a mummified body laid out on top, with little in the way of clothing left. Wan remnants of the mask’s energy still touched the body, and the smell of the grave lingered about it.

Next to its head was a box that held the mask. Or I presumed as much, since all the energy came from it, like a spider that had shot its web out around the room. I tipped my head sideways so I could peer beyond the walls of the box. Definitely the source. I couldn’t make out every detail of the mask, but it looked blocky. The shape of the energy was rectangular, at least, giving me a clear outline. Most ancient masks were carved to fit a face, but this one looked like a solid block of stone with eyes and a mouth cut out.

“I need this box open.”

Director Downes came around me, pulling jangling keys from his pocket. He hastily opened the lid and then retreated a good six feet, eyeing the box as if it contained a viper.

The power vibrating off the mask wasn’t entirely comfortable. It wasn’t evil but also wasn’t good, very much a neutral source of power that could be used in any direction. The energy was very strongly reddish-brown here, even deeper in hue in its concentrated form. Whenever I saw reddish-brown energy surrounding an artifact, I knew it was trouble. That color had never boded well for me. Especially the redder it was. Red usually meant blood had been spilled.

I saw hints of sand entwined with the energy, which at least gave me a hint of location. This thing had been born in the desert. Maybe the southwest? The more I looked at the mask, the more I gained the impression of desert sand and mountains.

It was ancient, too, that much I could feel in my gut. A creation from a people that well predated American society. Perhaps even American Indian society, that’s how old it struck me as. I had no idea where it came from, but the possibility of tracking down some forgotten piece of history excited me. Half the fun of this career was learning stories nearly forgotten in the annals of time.

What concerned me the most was the dust trickling down from the ceiling and walls, getting into my mouth. I didn’t like that at all. The roof wasn’t going to fall in on our heads…was it?

I eyed the ceiling warily. It didn’t look entirely stable. Then again, two of the walls were doing a lively jig over there, so that wasn’t unexpected. That said, did I want a stone building falling down on my head?

Somehow, I think I’d pass on that life experience.

How to stop this, and quickly—that was my burning question. My attention went back to the mask, trying to visually dissect it before I got too close and tangled up in its web of energy lines. It seemed to have some sort of awareness. Not sentient, exactly, but it could sense that people were nearby. The longer the top of the box was open, the stronger its song sang, calling to me.

“Oh!” Flo exclaimed softly. “My, it’s really not much to look at, is it? Green stone, edged in decorative beading around the sides, mouth, and eyes. It looks like a strap is still there in order to tie it on to a person’s head.”

I could see her hand reaching for it and grabbed her wrist firmly. “Flo.”

She startled, flinching back. “Did I just…”

“Reach for it? Yes, you did. It’s calling just as strongly to me, so don’t feel bad.” I had a feeling her charm was low on magical power and wasn’t shielding her properly. I’d deal with that later, when I had a moment to do so. “Do back up, though. I don’t want to have to watch you while working on this.”

She hastily backed up to stand next to the director.

I stared back at the mask with mixed feelings. Well, this was quite the problem I’d just been handed. When the rest of my team heard of this, they would not be pleased. That was a problem for later, though. Right now, I had to figure out how to even seal this. I absolutely would not move it until it was sealed. I didn’t dare.

Would a regular seal even work?

More dust flew into my mouth. The building started making some rather alarming noises, not like it was groaning and ready to fall down, but a sort of grinding sigh. Almost like it was settling. With my luck, settling in all the wrong ways.

I eyed the walls again with trepidation. “Please tell me the building has been evacuated?”

“Oh indeed, yesterday, in fact.”

Smart. Then again, I didn’t think anyone foolish enough to work in a building making these noises.

I turned my head and told the director, “I must correct you on one point, sir. It’s not Incan.”

He startled, noisily sucking in a breath. “What?”

“Trust me on this. I’ve seen Incan artifacts before. I know their spiritual energy and magick. This is not it. I don’t know where this is from, but it’s decidedly not Incan. What provenance do you have?”

His head went down, and he seemed to have trouble looking my direction. “Um. Well, to be perfectly honest, we bought it off a black market.”

I groaned loud and long. “You’re telling me that whatever paperwork you have is a pack of lies?”

“Apparently so.”

I hated black markets. Seriously hated them. They created so much difficulty for me. I couldn’t trust anything that came from them. Ninety percent of my jobs unfortunately came from a black-market purchase because the buyer didn’t know what they were actually getting into. One might think I would like black markets because they brought me so much business.

They would be wrong.

I glared at the mask, my frustration kicking up a notch. “How perfectly splendid. Now I really have no idea where to put you back.”

Director Downes cleared his throat hesitantly. “Put it back?”

“Yes. Nine times out of ten, when something like this acts up, it’s because it was removed from its proper place. Putting it back will make it settle again, and it’ll peacefully go back into a stasis state. I try not to destroy anything. The energy backlash alone can kill anyone within radius if done incorrectly. It’s not like these things come with instruction manuals, so it’s easy to make a simple mistake that costs lives.”

“Oh,” he said faintly, with the air of a man who desperately longed for something strong and alcoholic. “Hence, you said travel expenses.”

“Indeed. What did you think I was going to do with it? Go to some remote place and toss it off a cliff?”

“I really didn’t care, to be frank with you, Ms. Arnoult. As long as it was outside my city, I was quite content for you to take it anywhere you pleased.”

“Thank you for the honesty. I think.” I turned back to my troublesome new problem. Now I had a whole new question. Since I didn’t have a ready destination, I might have to apply seals on a regular basis.

When I came across things like this, something I didn’t know the origin of, I never tried to use the Shinto seals. Why? Because I chose life.

Shinto wasn’t incompatible with all magicks in the world—far from it. It was nature-based, and nature magicks from any religion blended fine. But this mask’s energy…I didn’t even know what this was. I had no point of origin. Was it nature-based? Seemed to be, from what it was doing to the building and the way it connected to stone, but I didn’t want to make any assumptions and jump to conclusions that would result in a rather spectacular explosion.

So for this, I would go with the very basics and use the known elements of the world to create my own shielding. It wasn’t the first time I’d needed to do so. Odds were, it wouldn’t be the last, either. I had enough elements on me that I could cobble something together long enough to get the mask to the truck and then build something proper on the workbench.

Assuming I could think of something brilliant between here and there. Right now, I couldn’t think of a single seal that would be powerful enough to keep this under control for more than a week. Could I layer two seals, though, and hope it would last longer?

I didn’t see how it would hurt to try.

“Director, are you particularly attached to this box?”

“Uh, no?”

“Good, I need it. I also need you to collect several materials for me. I don’t have enough on hand to seal it. I need paper—at least six hundred sheets, if you would—a razor blade, a ruler, strong glue, and more light in here.”

His head canted in question but he was already turning on one heel, moving toward the door. “Of course. I’ll only be a moment.”

“Thank you.”

Flo came in a little closer, maybe a foot, as he left. “Do you have a plan, then?”

“I don’t think my usual trick of wrapping this thing in lead foil will work. Not for more than a couple hours, at least. The energy coming off the mask is far more intense than our usual fare. But if I layer the lead with both paper and stone, I think it’ll hold.” Maybe. I had doubts but no other ready idea to try. At this point, I had to experiment and hope for the best.

I considered the best course of action once more. Whatever this was, it had a very strong earth connection, although how that tied into music was beyond me. I would have to study this for days before I figured that part out. My first concern was shutting off its connection to the stones in this building before the roof came down on our heads. Maybe obsidian?

No, that might strengthen the earth connection for the mask. Black tourmaline sounded like the better choice. Tourmaline cleanses energy, and I needed a cleansing right about now.

I removed a platinum wand from my bag, along with the leather case holding all of my stones and crystals. I had this case particularly organized so I could find things even when blindfolded. I removed two black tourmalines, then closed the case and put it back into my bag. One of the tourmalines I slotted into the butt of my wand, the catch snapping into place to keep it there. The other, I set aside for now.

The director was back in minutes, an assistant trailing him with two lanterns in hand. They quickly deposited everything onto a nearby table before the assistant scuttled back out without even a backward glance. I couldn’t wholly blame him.

Director Downes, at least, was made of sterner stuff. He was sweating like a nervous pig waiting for slaughter—I could smell it—but something made him hold his ground. A tremor was in his voice as he asked, “What can I do to help?”

I slapped a handful of lead foil on top of the mask, more of a makeshift gesture to quiet its noise than anything else. It cut the song down to about a third, the stones still spinning, just at a much slower rate and they were no longer in sync with each other. Ho, so that worked. Good, good, something had to.

“Measure the box for me,” I directed him. “We need to cut paper to fit inside.”

He took the ruler and went for the box. “Can you explain why?”

“Paper, when used correctly, makes an adequate shield against magical and spiritual energies. It’s best used in conjunction with other elements, such as lead, as that also has a very unique property suitable for this. The reason I asked for six hundred sheets is because the paper must be at least one inch thick before it becomes effective.”

He measured, then came away with, “The box is precisely eighteen by eighteen inches, ten inches deep.”

“Flo, if you would?”

My friend was already on it, measuring the paper and figuring out how much needed to be cut.

Director Downes turned to join her, but he was staring fixedly at the box. “Ms. Arnoult, are you intending to manhandle the mask in order to lift it free? I can’t imagine how we’d get the paper underneath it otherwise.”

“Do not worry, sir, I do have protection on me.” I riffled through my bag again and took out a pair of cotton gloves. I held them up for his perusal. “These are lead lined on the inside with, as you can see, a stone of protection sewn on the back. I can handle the mask, at least short term, without adverse effects.”

He gave a nod, voice relieved. “Good. Let me assist with that paper.”

“Thank you.” I let them work—I couldn’t cut a straight line if my life depended on it—and focused on what I could do.

Lead foil was one of those things I bought stock in, that’s how much I used it. It took up a third of my bag, in fact. I always kept a thick bundle of it on me, no matter where I went. The one time I’d failed to do so…was best not spoken of. Or remembered. I got chills just recalling that incident.

I wasn’t interested in being chintzy with the lead I had, either. I laid two sheets out as a base, then gingerly lifted the mask free of the box. I wanted to try putting the mask back on the mummy first. Just for grins and giggles, as my father would put it. If that made the mask quiet back down, I was happy to transport the mummy as well.

Okay, ‘happy’ wasn’t the best word choice, but I was willing to grit my teeth and explain to multiple porters that, yes, I was transporting a mummy, and, no, I wasn’t carting it about for black occult purposes.

I gently settled the mask over the face of the mummy. Then I held my breath. In part, because no amount of mummy dust was about to enter my lungs. Hard no on that.

If I’d bet on my plan, I would have lost. The mummy did nothing to quell the mask. It was like I’d done nothing at all. Why the mask had triggered when it was removed was now a question for the ages. I growled in vexation and lifted the mask again, this time turning for my foil. Back to Plan B, then.

It was heavier than I expected and seemed to like being lifted. The energy turned even darker in hue, more blood-red than brown, and that was never a good sign. Its song doubled, trying to sing temptation, encouraging me to put it on.

No chance, mask. I refused. Even if you weren’t ugly, as Flo said, I’d still refuse.

With more haste than care, I set it on the lead foil, then grabbed more lead sheets and slammed them on top. That helped stifle it some.

My brother once attempted to wrap a present by hastily wrapping foil around it and then tying it off roughly with a ribbon. To mixed success, of course. I felt in that moment like I was channeling his energy as I quickly wrapped lead foil around the mask without any care for how it looked. As long as it worked, I was satisfied.

The mask had four layers on it before I deemed it sufficient. Only then did I take some of the bottled glue and paste the black tourmaline on the top.

It was like a gramophone that had just ground to a halt. The song immediately stopped, cut off mid-note. I could no longer remember what it sounded like, its influence gone from my head. I felt strangely as if I’d just visited a bad hypnotist or been in a drunken stupor, only to have no memory of it the next day. The energy lines were dissipating quickly at least, although not gone yet. Drat, I’d truly hoped this much would do it. No dice, eh?

Flo clapped her hands. “The feeling stopped. I no longer want to put the mask on.”

“It stopped for me, too. Excellent. The stones still seem to be spinning, though.” I squinted at the nearest patch of wall, trying to see for myself. The energy lines were still tugging at the stones, albeit weaker and slower.

Director Downes was cautious in his approach, his hands full of paper. “Are you ready to place this in the box?”

“I am, sir. Thank you.” I took the paper from him and started arranging it along the bottom.

The next twenty minutes was three adults playing at crafts, or so it struck my fancy. We took turns holding things for each other so we could glue the paper into place along the sides of the box, forming a tight seal. Only when I was satisfied it would hold and was as tight as could be did I dare return the mask to the box. The last layer of inch-thick paper was glued to the top of the box and then put into place. I closed the box’s lid with satisfaction.

“One last step.” I lifted my platinum wand and tapped the top of the box three times, clearing the energy still clinging to the outside of the metal.

The stones abruptly stopped moving in the wall, stilling in whatever position they’d been in. Several stuck straight out, while others were partially turned. I didn’t envy whoever got to fix this.

Director Downes sagged against the table’s edge. “My dear Miss Arnoult, you just proved you are worth every penny. I never would have thought to use those elements to make it subside.”

I took the praise in the spirit it was meant and smiled at him. “If you’ll cut me a check, I’ll be happy to take this out of your building immediately.”

“Come to my office, please, and I’ll do so.”

Since I was probably the only one brave enough to handle the mask, I picked up the box. Flo put my wand back into my bag, hefting it onto her own shoulder to distribute the weight between us. The box in my hands was not light. I appreciated her thoughtfulness.

As Director Downes led us out of the room, he inquired eagerly, “What else can I do to help you? I’m quite invested in your mission succeeding.”

I almost demurred because he’d called me here for a reason—he couldn’t manage this problem. Then a thought occurred and I changed what I had planned to say on the spot. “Actually, I need to confer with an archaeologist who specializes in the desert areas of the United States. Can you give me some sort of direction?”

“I most certainly can. There’s an archaeologist we sometimes work with at Boston College.”

I smiled, glad to have someone to aim questions at. “Splendid. Let me check your employees before I leave. I don’t want anyone to suffer ill effects.”

“That’s most kind, Miss Arnoult, and I do appreciate it.”

I didn’t want to explain that I’d had half-mad people seduced by ancient artifacts climb into my bedroom window before. He’d had a bad enough day already.

Three

It took several stops on the Boston College campus to inquire of the students where to go, and, of course, two ladies on a college campus garnered all sorts of odd reactions. This wasn’t a medical or magical school, so women here would be a very rare thing indeed, and it led mostly to inquiries if we were lost and offers of directions off campus. But Flo and I persevered. We found Dr. Warwick’s office on the fourth floor, tucked into a back corner.

Flo marched us confidently up to the door and gave the wood a firm rap with her knuckles.

“Enter!” a male voice called out, sounding absentminded.

We did so, Flo first, although she came to a rather abrupt stop some three feet inside. I stopped as well, trying to discern why. The room wasn’t the brightest; only one lamp on the desk was burning, which gave my eyes some trouble. My night vision was nonexistent, and this setting did not help me distinguish anything in the office. I could only gather the impression of ‘cluttered’ with little room to maneuver around the many stacks of things on the floor. It smelled strongly of paper, books, and the musty scent of very old things clustered in a room with little in the way of ventilation.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, I thought you were one of my students.” The man behind the desk rose and came toward us, weaving his way around piles as if he’d done it so many times he could manage it blindfolded.

Flo leaned in and rapidly filled me in, speaking in an undertone, “A lithe, younger man, seems to be in his late thirties, rather handsome in a way, light tan suit.”

I appreciated the description, as always. All I could swear upon, especially in this deplorably dim lighting, was that he was rather tall. His voice was easy on the ear—a soothing baritone—and his words well enunciated. “Can I help you?”

“Dr. Preston Warwick?” I inquired, double-checking we had indeed found the right office.

“The same. You are…?”

“Arwen Arnoult. This is my companion, Florence McGrath. We need you to examine an artifact I just acquired from the Boston Museum.”

“Now, there’s a request I don’t hear every day. Please, sit. Ah, wait.” He hastily grabbed several things off two chairs, haphazardly moving them to another pile, then waved again. “Sorry about that. I was supposed to be on an expedition next month, you see, and I was in the middle of sorting and organizing everything in preparation. My office is not normally like this.”

I reserved judgement. Every person I knew who was an expert in their field did not believe in the virtues of organization, shall we say. I sat, the box firmly in my lap. Flo sat next to me, and Dr. Warwick found a slice of the couch opposite me to perch upon.

“I assume the artifact in question is in that box? But why did the Boston Museum give it to you?”

“To be precise, I’m charged with taking it back to where it originated. There’s a bit of a story there. Dr. Warwick, are you familiar with artifacts from your digs having a certain amount of…intrinsic power to them? Not magical, per se, but a realm of energy of their own.”

He paused and very carefully responded, “I’ll say that I’ve seen and experienced things I can’t readily explain. Something modern magick can’t explain, for that matter.”

“Good, that will make this easier. I am going to hand you two gloves. Please don them and do not handle this thing barehanded. Do you understand?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I do have field gloves—”

“No, those won’t do you any good. Mine are lined with lead foil and will protect you. Right now, you can’t hear the artifact’s song of influence because it’s very tightly shielded inside this box, but the minute I lift that protection, you’ll be struck with the strongest urge to put the mask on. I need you to brace yourself for that feeling.”

“Ms. Arnoult, you realize this sounds strange, do you not?”

“I’m quite aware. I’m also aware your opinion will change the moment I open this box. Please just bear with me.”

Dr. Warwick was apparently enough of a gentleman that he wasn’t going to accuse me of having bats in my belfry. At least not to my face. He accepted the gloves I handed him, and I waited until he had them both on before turning the box and letting Flo unlock it. Only then did I lift the lid and the inch-high stack of paper on top.

The result was quite visceral even in this dim lighting. Dr. Warwick startled, visibly, hands going up to his ears. “My god! Ms. Arnoult, you weren’t joking.”

“I was not.” I had to listen more to his voice than see his face for cues on how he fared. “Are you able to withstand it? This will get worse when I remove the lead foil.”

“I think I can. I never have experienced the like of this. Why a song?”

“That is one of my many, many questions.” I turned to Flo, who had dealt with this before. “Can you hear it?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

So it didn’t focus on magicians? Then why had it not effected the museum director? He’d been wholly immune to it. There was a rhyme or reason to this. I just didn’t know enough to put the pieces together. “All right. Let me undo the foil.”

I did so gingerly, not wanting my fingers to touch the mask. My hasty wrapping of it at the museum worked in my favor here. It was easy enough to undo, although I didn’t fully unwrap the mask—just the top layer so he could examine it.

Dr. Warwick leaned in as I tilted the box toward him. “How…extraordinary. I’ve never seen the like. Wait one moment, I need more light for this.”

Well, he was taking this rather better than I’d hoped. He didn’t seem nearly as affected by the song as I had expected. (Again, why?) I checked again on Flo, only to find that she had firmly sat on both of her hands.

“Okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she answered with a reed-thin voice. “Once you lifted the foil, I started to hear it.”

“You can wait outside his office if that helps.”

“I don’t dare get up.”

“Ah.” I had some sympathy for her but no answer to the dilemma until the archaeologist had finished his examination. I’d definitely renew her charm later today or tomorrow, however. I didn’t want to travel with this thing without bolstering her.

Dr. Warwick was back in a flash with his lamp turned up to full brightness, which he set on the only flat surface available between us. I could see more of the room now, and the additional light did not help its condition. It was as disorganized as a junk shop and about as clean. He did not sit but stood over me and leaned in, his eyes taking in the mask fully.

“What did the museum tell you, anything?”

I shook my head. “What was told to me is not the truth. It was labeled as Incan.”

“Ah, no, that is decidedly not Incan. Although I can see how the mistake was made. At first glance, it bears a strong resemblance to that culture. But their masks are more refined, more fitted to the face. This is a block of stone with slits carved out. Not the same artisanal work at all.”

So he did know enough to be able to discern the difference between cultures. Excellent, that meant he might know enough to tell me where it had originated.

“What else?” he urged.

“It was acquired off the black market,” I said, somewhat apologetically. “I can tell from its energy that it’s not from South America, if that helps any.”

Dr. Warwick made a sound as if he had just bitten back an oath. “I do loathe those things. So much history lost because we can’t trace it back to its own people.”

“I quite agree, I assure you. Where do you think this came from?”

“That…is the question, isn’t it?” he answered slowly. “Certainly not from a culture I’m readily familiar with. May I ask, why did the Boston Museum give it to you?”

“Do you mind if I cover it once more before we continue the conversation?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course, please do.”

I replaced the foil and paper, then closed the lid with a hard snap of metal on metal. Flo was instantly there to lock it, her breath shuddering with relief to have the troublesome thing once again sealed.

“Quite extraordinary,” Dr. Warwick murmured again. “The effect of it was instantly silenced when you did that. I have many questions for you, Ms. Arnoult. Let’s start with who you really are.”

Oh good. He was observant enough to realize I was not what I seemed. I did enjoy working with intelligent men. “I, sir, am in a rather unique field. You can think of me as a retrieval expert. I take items that are cursed or have strong magical affiliations, that are causing havoc in society, and I take them back to their place of origin. Once there, I put the protections they were under back into place so they will not be disturbed. Usually, it’s a private collector or museum that contracts my services.”

“Hence, the Boston Museum gave you this?”

“Quite so. The reason for it was two-fold. First, this mask has the strangest effect on buildings. Given enough time, it will set the very stones of the building to move. The back corner of the museum had its stones spinning in place.”

“I…I beg your pardon?”

“You heard her correctly.” Flo shook her head. “It was quite the sight, I assure you. And unnerving to work in that environment, fearing the roof might collapse on our heads.”

“You didn’t fear for my office?” Dr. Warwick asked faintly.

“No, it seems to need some time in an environment before the effect happens. The director told me the mask was in there for a week before it started. A few minutes here wouldn’t bring about that danger.”

“Oh.” Dr. Warwick sat again, rubbing at his jaw. “What else was it doing? You warned me I would want to don the mask.”

“Everyone working near it at the museum had that urge. The director seemed to be one of the few who didn’t feel the same desire, and, frankly, I think it’s because he was terrified of it. In my experience, when ancient artifacts want someone to put them on, it’s never for a good purpose.”

“You, ah, have much experience with this sort of situation?”

“Two years and running. That doesn’t include my training years.”

“Ah. I see.”

Flo prompted, “What did you make of the mask, Dr. Warwick?”

“My first guess is this was a mask made for religious ceremonies. Almost all of the civilizations that lived in the Americas had masks of this sort, and they were rarely made for any other purpose than religious rituals. I’m even more inclined to think that because of its strong connection to music. You were correct in that it’s not South American in origin, Ms. Arnoult. Neither Incan nor Mayan, for that matter.”

“The energy around it told me that much. This mask is from a desert climate.”

He abruptly leaned forward on the couch, his voice going up a notch in curiosity. “I’m sorry, the energy?”

“I see the energy around objects,” I explained patiently. “It’s why I’m hired for this sort of thing. I can both see and manipulate the energy of the artifacts. To a certain degree, at least. It’s why I was able to seal it well enough to transport it to you.”

“How…” He trailed off, almost spluttering. “How are you able to see it?”

“I always have, since birth.” My mouth quirked up in dry amusement. No one ever believed me the first time I said it.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, but you do understand how extraordinary that statement is? Magicians can’t see energy like that, and their entire talent revolves around it!”

“They love to tell me that, too. But I’m of the opinion that if I wouldn’t go to that person for advice, I won’t accept their criticism either. There are those who believe me. There are those who fast refuse, no matter the evidence presented to them.”

Which category he would be in was the question.

Flo chose to ask that question aloud. “Do you truly believe her, Dr. Warwick?”

“My dear lady, she walked in here with a mask that clearly sang to me, and she told me precisely how to safeguard myself against it. Then she proceeded to tell me where it was not from, even though experts at the Boston Museum said otherwise. Of course I believe her talent to be real, even if I’m struggling to wrap my head around it.”

Well, well, Dr. Warwick was one of the rare few who were willing to believe. I beamed at him, beyond relieved I wouldn’t have a drawn-out argument. I usually had to argue either my ability or capability with people for several minutes before one of us gave way. Or my patience did. I didn’t always win those arguments in the first round. One could not force a closed mind to accept what it would not. To those fools who would not listen, I let them suffer.

He held up a hand. “I’ll need to sleep on this for my poor brain to absorb it, but let’s continue the conversation under the assumption I believe what you say. You say it’s from a desert location?”

“The energy around it says so, yes. The stone it’s made from is also from a desert place. Hence, I asked to see you, as I understand you are an expert in the southwest area of the United States?”

“The Indian tribes there, at least. I must tell you, this mask does not belong to one of them.”

“No,” I agreed equably. “It’s older. Too old to belong to the tribes.”

“Older than…hmm. I see why you decided to consult with a historian, then. The information we have on the people who lived here before the Indian tribes migrated into the southwest region is sketchy at best. We only have oral history to rely upon, really.”

I winced. “I’m not an expert on American history. I wasn’t aware of that. Do you have any idea of who it could be?”

“I have a few notions, yes. It would take research on my part to answer you factually.”

Now came the real question. “Dr. Warwick, as I said, I’m tasked with returning this mask to its rightful place. I can’t very well do that if I don’t know where that is. If you can give me a starting point, I can take it from there.”

He didn’t answer me immediately, but instead seemed quite lost in thought for a moment. “Miss Arnoult, frankly, I’d feel nervous about merely pointing you in a direction. I don’t know enough to be sure what I’m pointing you to. I realize this is rather unorthodox, but can I come with you?”

I blinked at him. He did not just say that, did he? “Come with me?”

“To see this through. I’m really quite intrigued. In truth, I’m at loose ends. I mentioned I was preparing for an expedition? Well, the funding for it fell through at the last second, leaving the entire party out of sorts. I have absolutely nothing on schedule for the next six months, in fact. This is an incredible mystery that I want to solve. I can pay my own way, of course. I’m also quite intrigued by your ability, Ms. Arnoult. I wish to interview you to figure out your ability and training.”

It would be interesting to have a historian with us. He might prove to be very handy. I held out my hand. “Done.”

He shook it, his grip firm. “I assume we need to start today?”

“Yes. This is not something I want sitting around.”

“No, rather like a ticking bomb, isn’t it? Let me pack, gather some resources, and perhaps speak to some colleagues. Where are you staying?”

“Hawthorne Hotel,” Flo supplied.

“I’ll meet you there tomorrow?”

“Meet us there tonight at six for dinner,” I requested. “So you can meet the rest of the team.”

“Oh. Oh, it’s not just the two of you?”

“Heaven forbid.” I snorted at the thought. “I have two others who help me with these adventures of mine.”

“I do feel better hearing it. At six o’clock, then.”

Four

Introducing people to my team was always a bit touch and go at first, and always for the same reason: Nozomi.

One of the best friends I have in the world, not to mention one of the best mechanics I’d ever met, was Nozomi Banks. As a biracial Japanese American, she wasn’t always welcomed in certain areas of the United States. Prejudices ran rampant in this country, and being anything but Caucasian often meant you had a target on your back no matter what you did. Some looked at her and assumed her a lady of the evening. Others wanted her out of the country altogether. Worse, she was a female mechanic mage, and a gifted one. Once men found that out, testosterone jealousy often reared its ugly head. Because of all this, I often found myself defending her in the most absurd situations. It automatically put me on the defensive when I had to introduce a new person to the team, no matter how brief the acquaintanceship.

I hoped Dr. Warwick wasn’t a man of narrow worldviews. Otherwise, I’d have to rescind my acceptance posthaste.

The hotel had private dining rooms, tastefully appointed—or so Flo told me—that, most importantly, offered a quiet space to talk. I requested one for a six o’clock dinner and rendezvoused with both Arthur and Nozomi there.

I sat at the large round table, preparing to wait. Nozomi was quick to join me. She was wearing a dress, for once, instead of the culottes she was prone to, playing the part of a lady. I always felt like she was donning a costume when she wore a dress. She was far more at home in culottes with a streak of grease on her face. Not that I could throw stones at that glass house, as I was rather the same. It did amuse me, though, that no matter how many times she washed, I could always smell the faintest hint of grease mixed with the citrus scent of her soap. Flo had described her to me once as a petite, pretty girl with shiny black hair, chocolate brown eyes, and fair skin. She had also lamented that Nozomi in a dress was incredibly cute, so her insistence on rough clothing was such a waste.

“Were the stones really spinning in the wall?” Nozomi demanded as she plopped ungracefully into the chair. “That’s what Flo said.”

“Literally spinning like a top. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s saying something, too. This expert who’s coming, he knows what the mask is?”

“Sort of. He knows enough to say it’s a mask used for religious ceremonies and agreed with me that it wasn’t Incan as it was classified. He’s promised to talk with colleagues and do some research to figure out where it actually came from. Frankly, I don’t think this will be an easy answer to find.”

Arthur sat opposite me at the table. I caught a whiff of peppermint and tobacco, so he must have been smoking earlier this evening. I’d hoped he had relaxed while Flo and I ran about. He deserved a chance to put his feet up for a while.

He was a dignified sort of person—always had been, even when I was a child. He moved with deliberateness, as if every motion was planned for three steps in advance. It must have been something inherently Arthur since, despite serving together in the Army, my father did not have that kind of poise. Arthur described himself as a scruffy sort of man, one with a perpetual five o’clock shadow and stiff hair that defied a comb. My father told me Arthur didn’t see himself clearly. Papa described him as a lean sort of gentleman, whipcord strong, his skin tanned after being under the sun half his life, all of his forty-five years seen in the lines around his eyes and mouth. He described him as a visual representation of what a good man should be. I always carried that mental image around with me.

“You say that because the museum miscategorized it?” Arthur inquired in his rich, tenor drawl, a hint of a Southern accent peeking through.

“Yes. I mean, they supposedly have a building full of expert historians—not to mention the body the mask came with—and they still got it wrong. Whatever this mask is, it’s not from a culture we know much about. The only hint I’m able to give is that it’s from a desert region—the stone it’s made from told me that much—and that it’s older than the Indian tribes.”

“Hmm. Not much to go on, is it?”

I gave a glum nod.

There was a soft knock at the door before it opened, and I turned my head that direction. Flo I knew, but it took a moment for me to place the man with her. Ah. The good doctor had arrived.

I recognized him mostly by his voice and general shape, the easiest methods for me to identify people. Not that all people carried the same energy, but it was generally so nuanced I had to stare at them for a while to see the differences. It was both alarming for the person I stared at and time consuming on my end.

“Ms. Arnoult, I hope I’m on time.”

“You are, Doctor, perfectly so. Do come in and join us.”

“I bumped into him in the hall,” Flo explained as she closed the door behind her.

I left my chair so I could introduce him to the others. “Thank you, Flo. This is Dr. Preston Warwick, archaeologist of American Indian Studies. Dr. Warwick, my colleagues: Ms. Nozomi Banks, who is our driver and mechanic mage—”

He didn’t skip a beat, just turned and offered a hand, bowing a little over it. “Ms. Banks, a pleasure.”

Excellent response. He was just as gracious greeting her as he had been greeting me—even more so. I did like it when my first impression of a person held true. “—and Mr. Arthur Griggs. He’s in charge of logistics and supplies, so if there’s anything you need, speak with him.”

“Mr. Griggs,” the doctor greeted with a handshake.

“Join us, Dr. Warwick. We’re eager to confer with you,” Arthur invited with a wave to the table.

“Thank you.”

We settled back into our chairs, Flo maneuvering to sit on my left in case she had to assist me in some way. I normally didn’t need much assistance once I was situated in a room, but she erred toward caution.

Dr. Warwick started off in a tone of excitement he couldn’t—or didn’t—try to quell. “I popped by to speak with two colleagues this afternoon, telling them of your mask, and they were both quite baffled. They did, however, indicate that they knew of someone in the field who might know the answer. I’ve sent a card to him inquiring if I might have an appointment to speak with him.”

“That sounds like a good lead. Why this particular man?”

“He’s an expert in American Indian studies but, specifically, their lore. He’s been gathering information about the people who lived in the southwestern United States before the tribes moved into that area, and doing so via their oral legends. Once I explained to my colleagues what you have in hand, and assured them the mask in no way belonged to any tribe, they mutually agreed he was the only possible source who might know from which culture it came.”

“Well, that sounds like a very good lead indeed,” Flo said approvingly. “You were busy, Doctor.”

“Eager for an answer. Especially after seeing what this mask can do, I do not want this thing at large. Ms. Arnoult, I have no idea how long it will take to meet with him. Time is of the essence, is it not?”

“It is, but there’s no use dashing off without an answer, either. We’d just be changing locations without any destination in mind. At least here you have connections that might provide us with answers.”

He gave a grunt. “I quite agree but wasn’t sure what your timeline was for this. I don’t know how you operate.”

“Usually with extreme prejudice,” I answered dryly. “And death threats.”

Arthur gave a cough like he was trying to suppress a laugh. “To be fair, generally the things handed to us are incredibly dangerous. It’s a fight to keep them sealed long enough to put them back to bed before they kill people. Arwen’s always balancing on a knife’s edge between finding the answers she needs to properly deal with the problem and trying to safeguard us. It’s a precarious tightrope even on the best of days.”

“She’s been quite easygoing about the mask, as far as I’ve observed.”

I waved this away. “The mask hasn’t made me want to toss it into a volcano. Yet.”

Dr. Warwick digested this over a long pause. “Do you mean to tell me that a mask which can make stones spin in a building is not the most dangerous artifact you’ve encountered?”

“Far from it.”

Nozomi snorted. “After all, this one hasn’t killed anyone.”

“Yet,” Flo tacked on with grim humor.

I inclined my head toward her. “I’m also on the ‘yet’ scale. It’s russet brown.”

Three people dramatically flopped and groaned.

“Nooo,” Nozomi whined. “Why?”

“What are you asking me? Why it’s russet brown? How am I supposed to know?”

“No, not that why. Why did you pick it up!” Nozomi’s head shot back up. I assumed she was glaring at me. I felt the glare. “You know that’s never a good color. The last time we got an artifact that color, it tried to kill all of us!”

“I…have no good response to that. I mean, you’re right, it did.”

Arthur growled out something that might have been a curse. “Arwen, I swear you are your own worst enemy.”

I shot him a cheeky grin. “Undefeated!”

He groaned. “Flo, you should have stopped her.”

“Well, what was she supposed to do, let the Boston Museum cave in on itself?” Flo argued reasonably.

Flo’s a true friend. I pointed out truthfully, “I would rather paint a house with a toothpick than worry about that mask running around a city wreaking havoc.”

“And,” Nozomi tacked on in a knowing tone, “it was too good a mystery to pass up.”

“And it was too good a mystery to pass up,” I agreed, still morbidly cheerful.

Three sighs of resignation echoed around the table.

Well, they did ask.

Dr. Warwick was not to be sidetracked. “Do you really think the mask is trying to kill people?”

“The mask is very determined to make someone don it. That’s rarely a good sign.”

Arthur made a noise of dismay. “Arwen, you didn’t tell me that!”

“Oops. Yes, it’s quite determined to make someone wear it. I don’t know why. I don’t want to know why, for that matter. But everyone, be on your guard if I have to open the box.”

“Even with my charm, I almost put a hand to it without realizing. That’s how strong the influence was,” Flo admitted. “Do be careful.”

Dr. Warwick persisted. “Wait, someone explain this more properly. I’m afraid I didn’t ask enough questions before. You said you’ve become something of an expert at putting things back where they should be. You’ve been doing this for three years. What kind of artifacts?”

“Oh, it’s been an interesting variety. Some of them are incredibly ancient, some of them more recent.”

“And bloodthirsty,” Nozomi muttered. “Like that glass dagger that had soaked up a serial killer’s blood.”

I winced at the reminder. “Next time, we will encase something like that in cement and throw it off a pier. How many people did that thing possess and stab before we finally put it properly to rest?”

“I lost count,” Nozomi admitted dryly. “I also stopped counting after it cut me. I was more interested in shattering it into itty bitty pieces.”

That was reasonable. After what it had done to her, I’d felt rather the same.

“Normally the artifacts are something you’d see in a museum,” Flo explained. “Weapons of some sort, pottery, jewelry. Portable. Things we can manage to carry on long trips.”

Nozomi snorted. “I’m waiting for the cursed mummy, though. That’s bound to happen.”

I poked her in the ribs. She squeaked in protest, but I ignored it. “Do not call down that kind of bad luck. I don’t want it. Anyway, Dr. Warwick, we handle all variety of items. The common thread is that they are somehow causing trouble. Sometimes what’s on the artifact is a blessing, sometimes a curse.”

“I’m sorry, explain that last part?”

I often had to, as people didn’t seem to realize what I meant by that. “Think about it. These items were given to someone originally for what? Protection, right? Whatever your belief system, power was put to it as a blessing of protection and guidance to the owner. That power doesn’t diminish because the original owner has died. Or at least, that doesn’t always happen to be the case. The blessing was designed to do a very specific thing: protect. Now, if some stranger comes along and steals it from its rightful place, what do you think it’ll do?”

“React,” Dr. Warwick murmured, enlightened. “React negatively, of course, because it knows this new person shouldn’t have access to it.”

“Correct. To us, it might be a curse. But the original intent was to be a blessing. It’s very much a difference in viewpoint.”

“That’s a profound observation, Ms. Arnoult. I feel like I’m going to lose sleep tonight reevaluating things.”

I grinned at him. He really was an amiable sort of fellow, wasn’t he? “You’re welcome.”

“How often are you called in like this?”

“We handled ten cases last year, which was a record for us. Normally, these tasks take several weeks. The travel time alone demands days on end of being on a train. It’s not a fast process. It’s why I estimated this will take us at least a month.”

“I thought as much. I’ll try to find you an answer quickly here, so we at least have a destination. I don’t like the idea of tarrying.”

“None of us do, I assure you.”

“Another burning question I had was of your confidence in saying it was from the southwestern section of the States. Why do you say that?”

“I’m familiar with it. The energy of that land, I should say. I’m from San Francisco originally, although after the earthquake, my family moved down to Los Angeles. The stone the mask is made from has that same kind of energy. Not precisely from the California area—I don’t mean to suggest that—but somewhere around there. I know it’s from a desert region. If not in United States territory, then perhaps across the Mexican border.”

“Miss Arnoult, I do have a follow-up question from our conversation before.”

“By all means.”

What came out of his mouth surprised me entirely. “Your ability is truly different from most magicians. I’m reminded of something I’ve seen in the past. Is this anything like how a shaman or medicine man might see the energies of the world?”

My mouth dropped slightly, and I was caught without a ready answer for him. “You have experience with this?”

“Oh yes. Three different memorable excursions come to mind. It’s why I didn’t question you too deeply when you handled that mask in front of me. I could see the same sort of confidence in your movements as they exhibited. You knew precisely what you were about.”

I did not, in fact—I had no idea what the mask was. But I did know more than he about how to manage the mask, that was true, and apparently that confidence showed.

“I would like to ask more questions about how your talent works, if I may.” Dr. Warwick was both eager and rabidly curious. “I’ve tried asking a shaman how he saw the world, but all I got was a long-winded retelling about how the world was organized and structured. It was so heavily steeped in mysticism that it didn’t begin to answer any of my questions.”

“Oh, I’m sure. I’ve been roped into those conversations before. We’ll have nothing but time on our hands once we’ve boarded the train. You may ask whatever questions you like then.”

“Splendid.”

The dining room’s door opened and our food arrived in the hands of several waitresses. We paused in the conversation to allow this, everyone eager for dinner. The smells alone were quite enticing. I’d rushed about so much today, I’d barely had a light lunch, so I was particularly famished.

Once the staff had retreated, Dr. Warwick resumed his questions.

“What should I pack? Any specialty tools?”

Arthur fielded this question, as I had a mouth full of truly excellent mashed potatoes.

“Pack light, first and foremost. No more than a suitcase if you can manage it, as we’ll be switching between trains and the truck. We’ve learned that we’ll be going into areas that normally have no roads, and it’s a bumpy ride. For the most part, pack clothes that can handle rough terrain. We have digging supplies, camping equipment, and the like, but if you’ll bring a sleeping bag and your own toiletries, that will be best.”

“I can manage that.”

We focused on our dinner for a few moments, the silence companionable. Dr. Warwick, it seemed, was too polite to ask the questions most would in his situation. Like why I still wore tinted glasses indoors. Or why I had a team of only two other women and one man to do what anyone would consider dangerous work. Magical women especially were not meant to be tackling ancient artifacts running amok. He trusted enough of my history and the director’s note of introduction to go along with me, though. That’s really all I needed from him.

Hopefully, this attitude would continue throughout the trip. I had enough trouble as it was with the mask.

Flo decided to break the silence with her usual sadistic humor. “I bet the mask will try to steal Nozomi’s golems first.”

A gasp of outrage tore from Nozomi’s chest as she reared back in her seat. “How dare you threaten my babies!”

“They’re made from earth-based material, Nozomi, of course the mask will be attracted to them.”

“Bite your tongue! My babies won’t be so easily seduced.”

“They’re not sentient,” Flo argued wearily but still in good humor.

“I’m working on that.”

Heaven spare me. The last thing we needed was for them to be sentient.

Arthur was kind enough to explain to the confused Dr. Warwick, “In their spare time, Arwen and Nozomi like to tinker. One of Nozomi’s ongoing projects are two metal golems she’s made out of gears and mechanisms, boosted by her own spells to control them.”

Nozomi’s favorite topic was now broached and ready, so of course she leapt on it. “My original thought was that we needed a safe pair of hands to go into truly dangerous situations. Like the tombs with the booby traps—not all of those are mitigated when the tomb raiders go in, so we have to be cautious treading that ground. It’s far easier to send in something like a mine canary, you understand. But we needed something we could control, something sturdy, and frankly, none of us had the heart to use an animal.”

Just the idea of sending a hapless dog into some of these places was a firm no for me.

“I created two golems. They’re only about a foot tall, but they have a humanoid appearance with arms, legs, and a head, and they are the perfect thing. I’ve refined them over the years. They’re no longer made out of spare parts lying about, and with a magical boost, they can go quite some distance and report back without exhausting themselves. I’ve even gotten them to fly!”

Arthur drawled, “That was more like an extended leap.”

“It was ten whole feet! Airborne!”

“As I said, an extended leap.”

Nozomi shrugged and admitted, “The fuel-to-flight ratio is giving me trouble because they’re so small. My magick can only make them do so much. After all, some of their power comes from kerosene.”

“That does make more sense,” Dr. Warwick allowed. He sounded absolutely fascinated. “I would love to see them later.”

“Of course!” Nozomi was always delighted to show off her pet project. “Kuro and Shiro are in the truck, I can show them to you later.”

“Ku…I’m sorry?”

“Kuro and Shiro,” I repeated for him, my voice dry as a martini. “Black and White, respectively. Nozomi’s genius and imagination do not extend toward names.”

I got poked in the side for that, making me laugh. I did enjoy teasing her.

“I wish we’d had them when the dagger case had come to us,” Flo muttered, stabbing at her plate. “That would have made things easier.”

Nozomi grumbled, “They were still in draft stage at that point. I had nothing more than an idea and a sketch on paper. Otherwise, I would have tried using them.”

Dr. Warwick cleared his throat. “Tell me more about this. Everything else you’ve mentioned has been an ancient artifact. However did you come to deal with something that’s more…recent? Modern? I’m not sure what the right term is.”

“Bloodthirsty? Evil?” I snorted. “Lots of terms to describe that thing, Doctor. In short, it was a stroke of luck. We’re still debating if it was good or bad luck. One of my first clients was putting together a museum of horrors, something for a citywide Halloween festival. He had some rather macabre things in his own collection, and he knew of friends who had things, so he was collecting them all together in one building through his connections. Innocent enough pursuit, but one of the friends didn’t have much of anything to donate and felt left out. He went looking for something truly sinister and came across this story of a serial killer who used a glass knife to slash his victims. Through sheer dumb luck—I refuse to call it persistence—he found it in the hands of the police precinct that investigated the case. The case was long closed, the evidence forgotten, and he somehow convinced the police there to let him have it.”

Arthur shook his head. “I still think money exchanged hands over that deal.”

I had no doubt. “At any rate, he acquired the knife, then promptly took it to our mutual friend. It was luck, I think, that he didn’t spend more than a few hours around it and didn’t handle it himself at all. He left it in the evidence box, and that alone was the thing that saved him, as anyone who touched it was immediately ensnared by it.”

“Sadly, the dagger was put on display before anyone realized it was trouble.” Flo collected the decanter to pour herself another cup of tea. “It latched on to someone of dubious moral character, enticed him to break the display case around it, and havoc was born from there. He killed two people before police managed to capture him, and as soon as the dagger was free of his hand, he stopped fighting. He has no memory to this day of what he did.”

Dr. Warwick sounded alarmed in the extreme. “If he wasn’t operating under his own power, then did he serve jail time or was executed for it?”

“Not for that, at least,” I answered, a shoulder lifted in a shrug. “We know him to be a man of dubious moral character because they did convict him of three other crimes. You’d think criminals wouldn’t be so brash as to go about in public venues when they’re wanted, but I suppose most criminals aren’t intelligent. At any rate, after he dropped the knife, a policeman duly picked it up—and then tried to kill people. That’s when my former client realized something was sorely amiss, and he promptly called for me.”

“He’d seen this pattern already, in other words, and recognized it for what it was. How close were you when he called?”

“Fortunately, quite close. He was in New York; I had just left from New Hampshire. He sent a flurry of telegrams all along the main railroad lines at every major stop, and one of them caught up with me. I was able to board a different train and reach him twelve hours later.” I paused, memories surging to the fore of that frantic chase throughout the New York streets, late at night, all while hunting something that was in turn hunting me via the host it’d inhabited. “It was a very frantic few days until we got our hands on the dagger again. That was definitely my least favorite case.”

“If your typical modus operandi is to replace the artifact where it came from, then what did you do with the dagger?”

“At first, I tried to find out where it had come from to do that very thing. To no avail—no one knew where the serial killer had acquired it to begin with. In the end, I contacted a glass maker and used his oven to melt the thing down. In conjunction with a priest, who exorcised the demons inhabiting it, we cleared it completely from this world.”

Dr. Warwick sat on that for a moment. “It was…possessed?”

“Oh yes.”

“You said demons, so…do you know how many?”

“Legions.”

“Like the story in the bible?”

“Precisely like it.”

He sounded unnerved by this answer, as any sane man would be. “I can see now why you said that was your least favorite case. I would have been very shaken in your shoes to be dealing with something like that. But if that was your least favorite, what was your favorite?”

The question took me by surprise. I had no ready answer for him. None of my cases were ‘easy’ in any sense, but it’s true some of them were less trouble than others. And some had been more intriguing than others, for that matter. “Do you know…I’m not sure.”

Flo chimed in immediately. “The Case of the Rotting Eyeball.”

“Eww!” Nozomi shrank from her in clear disgust. “Flo, why would you bring that up over dinner?!”

The conversation devolved into bickering, but I was too busy laughing to really try and rein them in. Dr. Warwick more or less got his answer just listening to Nozomi and Flo argue about it. Really, as an introduction to the team, this showed him our dynamic.

In short, we were all a little crazy.

Five

My room was on the second floor of the hotel, tucked along the back corner, and I’d barely gained the hallway when I realized that during my hour and a half downstairs, havoc had been wreaked. Even from where I stood at the top of the stairs, I could see thick tendrils of reddish-brown energy snaking out from my room, reaching to all corners of the building. The largest energy trail was aimed for Arthur’s door across the hallway and was already in the process of sneaking under the wood. Its song was strong, a veritable soprano’s opening for a music concert, filling the hallway. I had perhaps minutes before it reached him and seduced him into putting the mask on.

“Shimatta,” I bit off, hiking up my skirts and sprinting for his door.

Nozomi was right at my heels, demanding as she ran, “What, what?”

“That thrice-cursed thing has broken through my seals. It’s leaking energy everywhere!”

Nozomi let out her own curse, this one much longer and more fluent than I could have managed, but she’s got the mouth of a stevedore, this one.

I yelled as I ran, “ARTHUR!”

His door abruptly opened, and he sounded alarmed as he stepped into the hallway. “Arwen, what is going on?”

I gave him a quick study, but his protective amulet was doing its job. Even with the insidious energy twining around his feet. Thank the heavens. “Blasted mask has broken the seal,” I reported to him grimly. “Can you feel its effects?”

“Uh…no? I can hear a song but it doesn’t compel me.”

“Then you might be able to help me. Come to my room, quickly. Guard the door while I work. I can’t watch my back and deal with this thing at the same time.”

He was fine, for now, but the rest of us wouldn’t be if I didn’t sort this out quickly. It was a miracle no other guest or hotel employee had been seduced yet. I sprinted the last of the distance to my door. I turned the handle, intending to go right through, only to hit the door hard. I belatedly remembered I’d locked it before going down. Cursing again, I fumbled in my pocket for the room key, yanked it free, then had trouble jamming it in. The hallway wasn’t brightly lit, and the dimness of the area, plus the black-on-black doorknob, didn’t help me find the keyhole. If I’d slowed down enough to feel my way through it, I would have managed, but panic was making me sloppy.

Nozomi yanked the key from my hand, hip-checking me aside long enough to jam it into the lock herself, then threw the door open wide.

I shot her a quick thanks in passing even as I barreled inside, only to screech to a halt three steps inside.

Oh.

Oh, this really wasn’t good.

Not only had the mask broken through my seals, it had basically treated them like nothing had been there to begin with. The box lid was wide open, the paper shredded, the lead foil barely there at all. Even my very nice tourmaline stone was nearly cracked in half! The foil was physically still intact, but the properties of the lead had been broken down so it wasn’t even remotely helping at this point.

How had it managed to do all of this in the six hours since I sealed it?!

I threw out an arm to check Nozomi in her tracks, not wanting her any closer than the doorway. “Mi-chan, run down to the truck. I need another box, same size, with paper precisely fitted to it. Make it two inches thick on all sides.”

She gave me a sharp nod, spun, and sprinted back the way she’d come.

Nozomi was my assistant out in the field like everyone else. She was perfectly suited to making me what I needed on the fly, and I could trust her to do so without supervision. I had a second thought and leaned back in the doorway to call after her, “If you can find a way to get water into the box without destroying the paper, do it!”

She paused at the top of the stairs to call back, “How much water?”

“As much as you can without making it impossible to carry!”

“Okay!” Like a whirlwind, she was down the stairs and out of sight.

My bag rested in a chair next to the bed and I dove at it. Right now, I had no real solution in mind. I needed a quick fix, something to buy me the time to think without worrying if either the bricks in the walls would start spinning or some random person would put the mask on. Neither would be good for me.

I found my lead foil and gloves after a moment of rummaging. I yanked them on, mentally cussing out the mask as I moved. Why was it being such a thorn in my side? Did it need a virgin sacrifice? Gold offerings? A swift and brutal beating with a hammer? I was happy to do the latter. Artifacts normally caused me trouble, but not like this, where it had broken out of its seal, and my trusty go-to lead failed to work.

That’s how my luck was some days.

“What is going on?” Flo demanded from the doorway. “Where is— Oh dear. Arwen, why did you open the box?”

“I didn’t,” I answered grimly, not even glancing toward the door.

“What do you mean, you didn’t? It’s wide open!”

“Apparently, while we were at dinner, the mask decided to free itself. It destroyed my lovely seal, opened the box, and was in the process of latching on to the building when I came in.”

“Oh dear,” Flo said faintly. “That’s…not good.”

“Tell me about it. Flo, do you hear it singing?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Then try to stay out of the room. Your charm is low. After this, I need to charge it.”

Dr. Warwick’s voice joined in. “I just passed Ms. Banks on the way out. She said there was some kind of trouble with the mask?”

“Trouble about covers it, Doctor.” Arthur sounded calm on the surface. He always sounded calm, even when all hell broke loose, so it was hardly an indication of matters. “The mask has eaten its way through the seals and loosed itself.”

Flo pitched in, “This is not usual. Arwen’s seals usually last a good deal longer than six hours.”

Yes, that fact smarted more than a little. It was a point of pride. I’d worked many years to develop my seals, with all sorts of experimentation going into them, and I did not like it when they were thwarted. Not to mention how dangerous this was. What was I supposed to do with this mask, just reseal it every six hours for weeks on end? I felt exhausted just thinking about it. Managing that would be next to impossible, what with all the traveling we would be doing.

“Oh…I hear the strange song again….”

Oh no. It was much stronger this time, more compelling, and I could see the effects of it as the song reached out to him. Of course he was swayed, he had no immunity to it, as he wore no charm. I really had to make him a charm quickly.

“Stay right here with me, Doctor,” Arthur instructed, still in that unnatural calm.

“But don’t you hear the song?”

“I do, but we can ignore it. You want to ignore it.”

“Do I? But it’s such a strange, luring song.”

I let Arthur handle Doctor Warwick, as I had to focus on my troublemaker. I laid the foil down on the bed, layered three deep, which was just wide and long enough to lay the mask on with some space on all sides. Then I turned to where the box sat on a little decorative table next to the window. I was not gentle as I yanked the mask free, slammed it onto the foil, and hastily wrapped several layers around it. It was makeshift in the extreme, I knew that, but all I was doing was buying Nozomi the half hour she needed to get a new box up here.

At least, I hoped it only took her a half hour. An hour at most.

Either way, I wasn’t putting another black tourmaline on this thing bare. It would just crack it again. The song died down to a hum, but the lead wasn’t enough to stop it. With the mask wrapped, I dared to take a step back and stare at it, really study what it was doing. Within a minute, I saw the problem.

“Oh, you’re set on being a pain in my neck, aren’t you?” I muttered in disgust.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Arwen, safe to enter?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but you’re not much safer lurking in the doorway. Come in, close the door so that not all and sundry can hear us.”

Dr. Warwick hesitated because this was technically a woman’s bedroom. A gentleman should not enter. He got over it quickly, thankfully. We didn’t have the luxury of obeying all of those rules society imposed upon us, not in situations like this. I think it helped that both Flo and Arthur were in here with him.

I kept the gloves on, most of my attention on the mask still upon my bed. “Be warned, it will keep singing until I get more protections up. Can you ignore the song, Doctor?”

“I believe I can. It’s fainter now. That was…a truly alarming experience. I felt quite out of my head for a moment.”

“I’m not surprised. Now that I’m observing it in action, I see the problem. The mask is…hmm…how do I say this? Dr. Warwick, are you familiar with the I Ching methodology?”

“I…I think so? It’s Chinese, isn’t it?”

“Correct. It states that everything in the world comes from one of six elements. Well, it’s really used for all sorts of things, but the simplest level says that everything corresponds to either air, earth, water, metal, wood, or fire. The best course of action when sealing something is to put its direct opposite around it, something it has no affinity for. That’s been my experience, at least. I erred when using lead foil to seal the mask. They both have an affinity for earth.”

“Oh. Oh, I think I see what you mean. Because lead is a similar elemental type, the mask is able to influence it.”

“If by ‘influence’ you mean destroy its very nature, then you are correct.” I gestured toward the mask. “I’m watching this play out in slow motion. The mask’s resonance is strong enough that it’s dismantling the lead properties bit by bit. Truly fascinating, if unnerving. Not even radioactive materials can do this to lead.”

Dr. Warwick sounded distinctly unnerved as he stared at the mask. “I see why you’re worried. What can be done?”

“I have to rethink my entire strategy on sealing this. I can’t keep repeating the same thing over and over every six hours. It’s simply not feasible.”

Arthur snorted. “I believe that’s the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

I grimaced. He made a good point there. “While I am called crazy on a regular basis, let’s not do anything else to prove it.”

Flo’s head panned as she took in the room. “You said the mask’s energy was everywhere, trying to connect to the building.”

“Yes, it still is to some degree. Let me dissipate that first, as I don’t want it influencing random bystanders, and I can’t work with all that energy pressing in on me. Arthur, I told Mi-chan I needed her to incorporate water somehow into the box without destroying the paper. Can you go and assist her? I fear that by the time she’s managed this, it’ll be too heavy for her to carry up the stairs.”

“Of course.” Arthur was quick to leave, a hint of a military snap in his movements as he spun on one heel and disappeared out the door.

It left me with Doctor Warwick, still uncharmed, and I didn’t think that a good idea. I took my own charm off my neck and handed it to him. “Hold on to that until I have the chance to seal this.”

“Why— Oh.” He held the charm in both hands and sounded startled. “I can still hear the hum of the song, but it’s like a record playing. Nothing I can’t ignore. What did you just hand me?”

“Protective charm. I’ll make you your own shortly, not to worry. Just borrow mine for now.”

“But what of you?”

“I’m too mad with this thing to be remotely tempted by it. Trust me there.”

I went back to my bag and took out my wand, which still had a black tourmaline stone in it. With swift movements, I cut through the energy tendrils lurking in the air around us. To anyone else, I probably seemed like an orchestra’s conductor, spinning around with exaggerated arm movements, while not saying a word. I didn’t have spells for this, or for most of what I did. There were no words I knew of that could accomplish anything I did. I was manipulating and clearing energy, and that took focus and the right tool in my hand, nothing else.

Dr. Warwick asked Flo in a low tone, “She’s clearing energy with that?”

“She is, yes. Impossible for us to see, but I can feel the effects. Can’t you?”

“Yes, I can. There was this buzzing sound in the back of my head, and I felt jittery even while standing in place until she started doing that. The feeling is leaving steadily the more she moves. Fascinating to observe, truly fascinating. Would she be opposed if I took notes on everything she did?”

“Not at all,” I answered, focusing on a pocket near the window. That benighted mask almost took out the windowsill before I caught it. The stones framing it were so loose that a single finger could push the window out of the frame. Just how much property damage did it like to do, anyway? “The more people who understand my abilities, the better. A female mage such as myself who doesn’t work in healing draws far too many questions. I get deathly tired of explaining myself. All right, I think I’ve gotten the worst of this cleared. Obviously we can’t move until I’ve found a better way to seal the mask. I absolutely do not want to be on a train when it starts up these shenanigans.”

Flo sounded faint as she murmured, “Perish the thought.”

“Dr. Warwick, I’ll try to be available when you go and speak with your expert.” I turned, putting the wand in my pocket, even though it didn’t really fit. It stuck out a bit at the handle, but I was used to that. “I have questions of my own to ask. Try to meet with him quickly, either tomorrow or the day after.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “If you have things in hand here? I’ll go home and pack.”

“Go, go, you can’t assist me with this. Unfortunately. I do wish otherwise.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, take your charm back, you’ll need it more than I. Good night and good luck.”

I grimaced. I needed the luck. “Thank you. Good night.”

He left, leaving me alone with Flo and a mask determined to stir up trouble. I glared at the artifact, hands on my hips as I scolded it.

“I am trying to take you back home, and this is how you thank me? By causing trouble? I expect you to behave yourself. I don’t want to wake up with the roof spinning over my head, is that understood?”

The mask did not deign to reply.

“Why do you like to talk to inanimate objects so much?” Flo had asked this question so many times that it was rhetorical now.

“Occupational habit.” I huffed out a breath. “Flo, I hate to say this, but that foil has maybe an hour before it gives up the ghost.”

“How much lead foil do you have left on you?”

“Not enough, at the rate I’m burning through it. I think I best carry this down to the garage where the truck is. The sooner I can put this into a properly sealed box, the better. Also, I think I need to modify what I told Mi-chan. I told her water and paper, but she needs to understand that, basically, our seal is only water and paper. Black tourmaline in the corners, if we can situate it right with the paper.”

“I’ll lead you downstairs, then go and buy more of the lead foil.”

I gathered up the mask, handling it as gingerly as a wet cat needing another dip in the water. “Probably for the best. It’s still the easiest stop-gap solution to sealing the mask. Until I can come up with something brilliant.”

Flo asked dryly, “How brilliant are you feeling?”

“Not at all. Hence the problem.” I glared at the mask some more, but my mind was already churning with possibilities.

Flo took charge of locking the door behind me as I exited the room, still holding the mask out ahead of me. I’d wrapped it like a child’s overexuberant attempt at wrapping a present, so it wasn’t the best of jobs. Still, the way it was already trying to disintegrate the foil was disheartening. I had the sneaking suspicion that wrapping it in foil was actually boosting its power because that gave it ready access to something earth aligned. I didn’t like this suspicion one iota. I didn’t have much to seal magical objects with that wasn’t earth based. What options did this leave me?

Flo walked with me as we went back downstairs, questioning as she went, “If lead is earth based and doesn’t work, I wouldn’t think paper would work well either?”

“Ah, no, because paper is made from wood and water.”

“Oh, right, silly me. I think of paper as more an earth product.”

“You’re not entirely wrong, it is tied to earth. Like lead, being metal, is still tied to earth.” I frowned in thought. “Come to think of it, lead should work, as it’s metal and not earth. Unless the mask has an affinity for both earth and metal?”

“You can’t tell by looking at it?”

“The energy from this thing is strange, like it’s speaking an entirely different language. It’s so foreign that I have a hard time reading it. Most artifacts are tied into religion or human emotions. This is…not. It’s rather akin to me comparing an apple to a tire rod. Both are objects you can pick up, but they couldn’t be more different. That’s how strange and alien this is to me. I knew it was earth based because of what it was doing to the museum.”

“You could see it in action there, so it was obvious,” Flo said, completing the thought, tone enlightened. “The metal aspect is only now becoming obvious.”

“Right. But no matter what this is, it can’t have an affinity for everything—nothing can do that. So if it’s strongly tied to earth and metal, then it stands to reason that air, fire, wood, and water are its polar opposites.”

Flo paused before responding, taking a moment to get us off the stairs and through a side door. Once we were outside, she spoke again, tone dubious. “But you can’t feasibly use all of those, so which ones would you choose? You said paper and water? Even those don’t mix well.”

I held my tongue, as I had a mad crazy idea.

“Arwen. Arwen, that is not your agreeing face. I do not like that expression. It always gives us a headache.”

“This idea is workable.” I think.

She sighed deeply. “Nozomi is going to hate you in a minute.”

“Nonsense, she likes a challenge.”

The hotel had a garage in the back, what was probably a converted stable, as part of it still functioned that way. Automobiles were all the rage, but there were still some people who stuck to horse and buggy, and the hotel accommodated them. We had a stall of our own, my oversized truck barely able to fit inside it. Most trucks were a C-cab with a covered back, meant for in-town deliveries.

Nozomi had taken on the challenge of building something that could hold not only six passengers but all of the equipment we needed. She’d extended the bed of the truck by another four feet so that it had three axles, the back part covered by taut canvas and ropes. There were quite a few of Nozomi’s spells imbued in various ways to help offset the weight of the passengers, cargo, and whatnot. There were also additional strengthening spells to help when we went off-roading, which was a frequent occurrence. It was a beast of a truck, nothing else like it on the market, and only Nozomi really understood it. Arthur could drive it, Flo could manage it, but the truck was Nozomi’s baby. We left it to her most of the time.

Part of the very back bed was a designated workbench for her, as Nozomi ended up either making me something or repairing things on a regular basis. She was there now, Arthur holding two metal sides together as she sealed them in place with one of her welding spells.

“Mi-chan, the mask has an affinity for metal.” I stared at the box and winced. Was that a good idea?

“Well, I don’t have anything else to work with right now. I need to restock on wood before we head out.” Nozomi didn’t even glance up as she spoke. “And you need a box. As long as the mask can’t touch the metal directly, will it work?”

“It…might be fine? As long as it’s well insulated.” I hoped. Truly, everything was guesswork at this point.

Nozomi grunted. “I’ve figured out how to put the water and paper together. I’ve got a glass case drying right now. We’ll put the paper in first, then the glass tank. We can put the water inside the case with the mask without it affecting the paper.”

“Excellent.” See? I could trust Nozomi to think for me and figure things out without me outlining every step. “Now, help me figure out how to put air into the mix as well.”

She finished gluing that side before lifting her head up. “What do you mean air as well?”

“The lead is too earth based; it won’t work with the mask long term. Paper alone clearly can’t cut it, as the mask was able to destroy the paper lining. Using only water as a protection seems a bad idea. It may or may not be affected by the glass, you know how susceptible to magick glass is. I need one more element. So, air needs to go into the box. A dense, high quantity of argon, really.”

Nozomi just groaned. “A-chan, just once, can you come to me and say, ‘Good job, Mi-chan, you’ve solved the problem!’ instead of ‘by the way, we need to add this other random element that isn’t at all compatible in there too’?”

“Where would be the fun in that?” I countered with a grin. “Besides, you like a challenge.”

“Lies. You like a challenge. I get sucked into your pace. You’re lucky I’m a mechanical mage, otherwise you’d be up a creek with no paddle.”

“It’s the hazard of being friends with me. Which would you rather have? A foolproof seal for the mask, or redoing all your hard work in twenty-four hours?”

Nozomi sighed, the sigh of someone absolutely resigned to not getting any rest for the foreseeable future. The sigh of someone realizing she couldn’t argue.

I’d sympathize but, really, we had no choice. Absolutely no one was sleeping until this mask was properly under control. I wasn’t taking the risk of waking up in the morning to discover that the mask had either taken the building for a spin or one of my colleagues for a jaunt to god knows where.

I was putting this troublemaking little thing to bed tonight.

Six

Nozomi and I both went to the garage in the back of the hotel in the early afternoon. I had a task on hand, and she wanted to tinker, as she was wont to do. We’d been up half the night with the mask, putting it to bed, which meant we hadn’t found our own beds until well after midnight. It had made for a late rising this morning, which was fine. Cups of coffee in hand, we each took a seat at the workbench in the back of the truck, her with her golems, me with the box of elements I reserved solely for my use.

In this day and age of machines and magick, it wasn’t unheard of to have a melding of the two. It was unheard of to have them in so much abundance in one place. This sort of thing was something only the wealthy and elite could really afford, after all. I always did a survey on my box and kept a sturdy lock on it, just in case someone decided to make off with something. This morning, at least, everything seemed to still be here. I had all of my metal bits, the gemstones I liked to use, the jewelry-making tools, and supplies. Good.

Nozomi slurped at her coffee before asking, “What are you doing?”

“Mmm, a few things, really. One, Dr. Warwick needs a protection charm if he’s to be traveling with us.”

She snorted. “But A-chan, you’re such a safe person to be around.”

“I heard that sarcasm.”

“I would hope so. People tell me sometimes, you know, how lucky I am to work with you. I tell them to walk a mile in my shoes and then try saying that to my face again.”

I had to laugh because, truly, I did get us into situations sometimes. Still, “If you think walking a mile in my shoes is something, try spending thirty seconds in my head.”

She made a revolted noise of alarm. “Not on your life! It’s crazy enough being around you.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“And your point is…?”

“Made.”

“On circumstantial evidence.”

“You’re looking pretty corporeal to me.”

She playfully shoved my shoulder, grumbling something in Japanese that was less than complimentary. I grinned at her and turned my mind back to the task.

The charm was something I made for anyone who stayed an extended time around me. In other words, more than a day. The charms were small, something worn on a necklace usually, although Arthur kept his on his watch chain. They were a basic shield to prevent mental suggestions, like certain masks trying to seduce people. They also incorporated a basic shield against fire. That last element was mostly because I liked to use fire to fight with and didn’t want any of them hurt by it.

The charm was something I’d made many a time. I had it down to a science by this point. I used turquoise as the base, then inscribed the magical rune along its platinum backing, using a touch of heat and the fine point of a pen to work it. Magical workings like this, at least, I could see perfectly and was able to do the fine details. Now, if I could just convince the world at large to print books in magical ink so I could read them, my life would be splendid.

Thirty minutes later, I had the charm done. I set it aside with a possible chain to offer Dr. Warwick. He seemed a nice enough fellow. I’d hate to get him killed. The charm should help in that aspect. Assuming he’d wear it. That might take a bit of persuasion on my part.

All right, first task done. I turned my attention to the second task, namely charging up Flo’s charm. That was done within minutes and I set it aside as well to hand to her later.

Now my last task of the early afternoon.

I had, during the course of my travels, discovered the necessity of certain things. Namely, fire and oxygen. The former to fight with, the second to survive by in case of being trapped underground. Which, sadly, happened to me far too frequently. I’d developed a solution to both problems and wore them wherever I went. The left cuff on my wrist looked decorative, made of leather and platinum as it was, but the insignia allowed me to draw and transmit air at will. The right cuff looked very similar, but instead of just platinum, the stones inlaid in it were quartz, flint, and kyanite. It was an excellent fire starter, and a simple slap of the two cuffs together would give me an instant blaze.

Sometime in recent history, I had slapped the cuffs together a touch too energetically, and the quartz stone on the top of the cuff was in danger of coming loose. One loose stone would prevent the cuff from working properly.

In other words, random explosions were entirely possible.

Needless to say, it wasn’t a future possibility I wished to entertain. I set about prying the quartz free first, as the setting itself was what had become bent and damaged. With the quartz removed, it became trickier to work with, as the energy of the crystal wasn’t there to aid me. There was some residual energy curving along the platinum, but I had to move quickly in order to take advantage of it. I applied myself to working the platinum into the right shape to be able to cup and hold the quartz once more. There, that should work better. I attempted to put the quartz back in, but it failed to seat properly. Was I missing something?

I took it out again and felt about the area more carefully. The residual energy was basically gone at this point, making it hard to see the nuances. Fingertips would tell me clearly if there was a dent.

No, I didn’t feel anything. How strange. Why was it being so stubborn? I applied the quartz again, but it still resisted. Frustrated, I pushed a little harder.

A short spat of flame shot out, making me jump. I hastily reached forward with my own energy, snuffing it out before it could gain any foothold in the many, many flammable objects around us.

“Arwen.” Nozomi said my name as if I’d announced I would become an axe murderer that very afternoon.

I may have hunched a little defensively before I caught myself. Clearing my throat, I made my voice pleasant. “Yes, Mi-chan?”

“Did you just shoot flame in my truck?”

“I am a master of the flame. I’m sure it was a trick of your eye.”

“There is a scorch mark. Right there. In the frame of my truck.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“You did not just make a blind joke.”

I maybe had, but she wasn’t laughing. Blast it. I didn’t realize it had left a mark.

Nozomi was not to be deterred. “That’s like a flying spider. No one wants fire this close to so many volatile elements. The world would end just because everyone would give up on life.”

I blinked at her. “You’ve never heard of the tarantula hawk?”

“No, and I don’t want to hear about the tarantula hawk.”

“But Mi-chan—”

“That distraction technique of yours hasn’t worked on me since I was ten and I figured out what you were doing. Now. What,” my best friend demanded, “are you doing?”

Sheepishly, I admitted, “Trying to fix my cuff. The quartz won’t set in place.”

“Give me that before you burn us to death.”

“But I almost have it done!”

“If by ‘almost’ you mean ‘I haven’t killed us yet,’ then you are absolutely correct.”

Flo cleared her throat at the edge of the truck bed, drawing my attention. “Arwen, Dr. Warwick sent a message saying he’d come and collect us presently.”

“Oh good.” Nozomi pushed at my shoulder. “Take her before she kills us both.”

“You’re blowing this all out of proportion,” I muttered even as I moved, handing Flo her charm.

“I’ll fix it and give it back to you later. It’s not like you’ll need it today anyway; you’re just interviewing someone,” my best friend continued.

“You don’t know that. What if he takes me to a museum? Museums have mummies, you know.”

“I have perfect faith you’ll win over mummies. Go, shoo.”

Well, she’d be better at the finer work than me anyway. I grumbled but went, taking Dr. Warwick’s charm with me. It wouldn’t hurt to freshen up a little and look presentable.

Dr. Warwick had managed to get us an interview with our possible expert shortly before end of business hours. I was marginally hopeful that said expert might hold some answers. I was tragically in the dark where answers were concerned.

Dr. Warwick came to the hotel to fetch me and Flo a good half hour early, finding me in my hotel room, poking at the box like I would a trapped badger. A rabid one, at that. Flo let him in with a smile in her voice.

“Dr. Warwick, do come in. Arwen is doing one last check on the mask before we leave.”

“Splendid.”

I paused to greet him. “Dr. Warwick, you’re early.”

“Yes, I wanted to see the state of the mask before we left. It is sealed, then?”

“Hmm, seems to be at the moment.” I went back to visually dissecting the box and the seals I had in place inside. It didn’t seem to be doing anything, but I thought that yesterday before going down to dinner. Clearly, I could be wrong.

He came to a stop next to the box, staring down at it as if he could see into the interior as I could. “You said artifacts like this can contain protective spells or curses. How are some things able to carry this sort of energy?”

“Focus.” It was an intuitive question, proving he’d been thinking about this. I approved. The truly intelligent people were the ones to absorb information and turn it on its head, coming up with questions. I was always happy to answer those questions. “All things have energy. Living and nonliving things are all made of energy. It’s much more subtle, not as blinding as something like an ancient artifact. Those are powerhouses of energy. The difference between the mask and, say, a pebble is focus. The mask had hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people focusing their energy and intent upon it. That energy gathered and now resonates in a single place.”

“That…makes a great deal of sense. Yesterday you said you’ve had a case with a glass dagger that was in the hands of a serial killer, though. Surely that wasn’t enough focus if only one person was involved.”

“That was rather a unique case.” I stopped staring at the box in order to answer him better. “When you mix blood and souls in an object, of course the power stored there will be much easier to transfer. Not to mention stronger.”

“Souls?”

“We’d hardly believe in ghosts, reincarnation, or heaven if we didn’t believe that souls can be separated from a body,” I pointed out wryly. “Religions and cultures across the world all have that in common, in some form or fashion.”

“Ah. Point taken. Can you see souls, then?”

“I can. They’re just energy, after all. Different types of energy, granted, than something like this.” I poked at the box with a fingertip, frowning at it. “It seems to be behaving.”

“Do you mind if I ask what you changed from the first seal?”

“A great deal, in fact. I removed the lead entirely, as that obviously wasn’t working. I doubled the amount of paper. There’s now water encasing the mask directly, and I’ve infused an extra amount of argon in with the water.”

“Argon?”

“Argon is wonderfully nonreactive to all elements. Unlike oxygen, which reacts to everything. Argon makes a lovely seal, even though it’s tricky to incorporate and escapes at the first chance.” It had not been easy to put it into the case, but I’d managed. I indicated the corners of the box with a tap of both hands. “I’ve also put black tourmaline in each corner. Normally I wouldn’t, as that’s an earth element, but black tourmaline clears all energy by its very nature. It’s very hard to latch on to. I think that with black tourmaline in all eight corners, the mask’s energy will be dispelled before it can do much.”

“In other words, you have four layers of protection on that box.”

“Hopefully that does the trick.” I nodded toward Flo. “She drew up a sketch of the mask for us to show the expert. I don’t dare take it back out of the box.”

“No, heaven forbid. I wasn’t even going to suggest it.”

Flo drew a wad of paperwork from her bag. “I still have the paperwork the museum gave you. I thought it might suffice.”

“The black market info?” I asked skeptically. I didn’t see how that would be helpful.

“No, the museum’s documentation that lists the weight, size, and basic description.”

Oh, that made more sense.

She tacked on, “The information is so minimal that I thought a sketch would prove handy, however.”

Flo handed him the leather portfolio in her hands so he could see it for himself.

Dr. Warwick accepted it and flipped the top up. He made a low noise of approval. “You’re quite the artist. It’s spot on.”

“Thank you, Dr. Warwick.”

“One more thing, sir, before we go.” I took the charm out of my pocket and handed it to him. “This is a shield of protection. It’ll keep your mind from being shanghaied and protect you against fire. I make them for everyone in the party as a means of protection.”

He gently took it from me. “This is incredibly curious work, Miss Arnoult. Thank you. It’s on a chain, so I presume I wear it?”

“Most choose to wear it as a necklace, although Arthur keeps his on his watch chain. As long as it’s somewhere on your person, it will do the job.”

“I understand. Thank you. I’ll keep it on me.”

If he was doing so just to be polite, that was fine. As long as he actually wore it. “Well, shall we go?”

“We should. Traffic in Boston is not reliable even on the best of days.”

I gathered up my bag, gave the mask one last warning glare, then followed the other two out of the room. Flo locked the door and paused by Arthur’s room to give him the key on the way out. In case something went very, very wrong, Arthur was under orders to immediately take the mask to the ocean and put it under the water until I could get to it again. It was the only Plan B we could think of last night for an emergency sealing.

Not even this stubborn mask could overcome the power of the ocean.

The day was a brilliant one, a little cloudy but cooler than yesterday. I enjoyed the sunshine on my face as we walked the short distance from door to cab, all three of us squeezing into the taxi. It was a tight fit, but we managed.

It was also, fortunately, a short trip. We almost could have walked the distance, although I see why Dr. Warwick chose not to, as it would have been a stretch of the legs. We’d no doubt be walking, scrambling, hiking, and climbing soon enough as I sought to put the mask back where it belonged. I chose to indulge myself with taxis while I could.

The taxi pulled up in front of a prestigious looking building—or at least imposing, at a good three stories tall. I caught the gleam of sunshine off metal, so I assumed it had decorative trim. I looked over the iron gates and massive doors and felt like I was in front of a bank. For all I knew, the building may have been that until the university took it over.

Dr. Warwick led us through the front doors and into a tiled foyer with a massive staircase that wound its way to the upper floors. Oh, this had definitely been a bank at some point. The tiled floors echoed under our shoes in a sharp staccato as we made our way to the stairs. Even the stairs echoed, the wood not giving a single creak under our weight.

Four doors from the stairs, he stopped and gave the wood a sharp rap.

“Enter!”

Dr. Warwick’s office had been a cluttered disaster, a clear indication the man had been mid-process on packing for an extended leave. I don’t know what this man’s excuse was, as it looked like he’d been half moved-in for the better part of a century. At least the office was well lit, with multiple sconces on the walls and a single chandelier illuminating the area quite well. There was a clear path to his desk, with two empty chairs in front of it. A strong odor of tobacco and the scent of books invaded my nostrils as I crossed the threshold. It felt somewhat unnerving to be in this room. The rest of the walls, shelves, and such were so stacked that I felt like I was passing between shadowy pillars. Pillars that might topple on me at any given moment, no less. I found myself sarcastically paraphrasing a scripture as I walked. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the Shadows of Clutter, I fear for my life, and hope the angel of death may pass over me.

“Dr. Clarke,” Dr. Warwick greeted. “I’m Dr. Preston Warwick.”

I yanked my attention back into the present, keeping a pleasant smile on my face.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the heavyset man greeted in a pleasant baritone. He rose from his chair and extended a hand across the desk. “Pleasure, pleasure. You have lovely companions with you, I see.”

“Yes, indeed. Ms. Florence McGrath and Ms. Arwen Arnoult. It’s under Ms. Arnoult’s behalf that I reached out to you. She has been given a certain artifact by the Boston Museum, and we’re quite at a loss as to its origin.”

“As your note to me explained. I’ll help as I can. Ms. McGrath, Ms. Arnoult, do take a seat. What can you tell me?”

Flo guided me into one of the leather armchairs, which I appreciated—I did not trust my surroundings just then—and I answered him as I situated myself. “I’m afraid I’ve only been given bad information so far. The provenance that came with the mask was an exercise in creative writing, shall we say. It was a black-market sell. You know how reliable those things are.”

Dr. Clarke groaned loud and long as he resumed his seat with a whoosh of displaced air. “I unfortunately do.”

“That said, I know what it is not. It is not Incan, as I was told. It is older than the American Indian tribes. It is from the southwestern part of the American continent—somewhere. At least, it strikes me as such. Flo, can you show him the sketch?”

Dr. Clarke reached out to accept the portfolio, asking as he did so, “Why are you so sure this is not of the American Indian tribes?”

“Its age. It’s approximately from the 1,000 AD era.”

“Ah. Then you’re quite likely correct. The American Indian tribes did not move and take over that area of the US until a hundred years or so later. Before then, it was the Basketweavers and other civilizations that grew up to replace the Basketweavers.”

I knew that much of my history, at least. The interesting part of my career was learning facets of history as I worked. I learned much more about what went on in this continent than I ever had in school.

He flipped open the portfolio and looked it over carefully. “I am not an expert on anything Incan, but I can see why the mistake was made. It does look reminiscent of that, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Dr. Warwick allowed. He leaned over the desk to point out something on the page. “But I’ve seen the mask with my own eyes and can attest that the shape and decoration are wrong for it.”

“Hmm, quite.” Dr. Clarke stared at the drawing some more. “This I can tell you: That’s not from any of the American Indian tribes. You’re correct on that, Ms. Arnoult. For one thing, none of them use masks like this in their ceremonies. Paint, headdresses, yes. Masks like this? Decidedly not. I can’t think of a single instance where masks like this are even called for.”

I knew this, but felt like he was speaking aloud, working through the obvious to get to what he truly meant to say. “Have you heard anything through their legends?”

“No…” Dr. Clarke trailed off, clearly thinking hard. “I can’t think of who this mask might belong to. There was no indication of where it was actually found?”

“Brazil,” I answered dryly.

“Ah, right, the paperwork of lies. I can also say this isn’t something the Basketweavers would have done. They weren’t invested in religious ceremonies that took a great deal of, er, costumes? For lack of a better word. I think you’re looking for some civilization that came between the Basketweavers and the American Indian tribes. To be honest, we’re still uncovering whole gaps in history. I’ve heard whispers of a civilization that existed in the southwest, one the tribes interacted with, but it’s just that—casual mentions, whispers. I haven’t put a name to them and have no idea if they’re even the owners of this mask.”

This was all disheartening. I’d hoped he would know something. I needed something to go off of. Some destination, some clue. I could hardly solve this mystery if I had no facts to put together.

“I think you need to speak with one of the tribes. The Hopi, perhaps. They’re in the Arizona area. Or the…will you take the California Limited?”

It was the sensible choice when traveling a large distance west, as the sleeping train could get us there quickly. It was also the more upgraded passenger train with all the magical amenities modern magick could offer. “Most likely.”

“Then you’ll arrive in Gallup? In that case, the Navajo Reservation is practically next door. Yes, actually, try them. The Navajo might be the better bet. They have a better sense of oral history.”

I certainly didn’t see another option. “Will they be able to tell me?”

“If you can get them to talk to you. That’s always been my trouble. They’ll talk, they’ll tell stories, but there’s a great deal they won’t share with outsiders.”

Considering all that had happened when the Europeans came and settled in this land, I could hardly blame them. “It doesn’t hurt to ask. Can you recommend anyone else to speak to?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. You can always try one of my colleagues on the west coast, see if they’ve stumbled across something they haven’t written a paper on yet.”

That didn’t entirely inspire my confidence. I gave it a very distant second option to explore, and only after I’d exhausted all closer possibilities.

I stayed polite, as he’d helped me as much as he could. “Thank you for your time, I do appreciate it.”

“I wish I could be of more assistance. If you do find the answer, please write and tell me. I’d love to know more.”

“Of course, I’ll make sure it’s done.” I saw no harm in making the promise, as the advancement of knowledge could only help.

We got up, took our leave, and Dr. Warwick led the way back out of the office. It wasn’t until we were back outside on the sidewalk, Dr. Warwick hailing a cab, that any of us spoke.

“I do wish we had a better lead than this,” Flo muttered crossly. “Gallivanting all around the southwest is hardly efficient.”

“If by that you mean you’re exhausted just thinking about it, I quite agree. I don’t see any other recourse, however. We can at least get some proper rest once we board the Flyer.”

Flo made that humming ‘thinking’ sound she sometimes does. “Toward Santa Fe?”

“That seems the best direction to me, doesn’t it to you? We’ll talk to Arthur about it, but I think that region is our best bet. We can go up or farther west from there.”

“I can’t argue otherwise. We’ve too little information to do more than guess.”

Unfortunately true.

Just once, just once, I wanted a troublesome object to come with correct provenance and a map of where to return it. Was that too much to ask?

It probably was.

Seven

Arthur handled buying the tickets and actually arranging everything for us to ship out. Well, I say ship, but we boarded a train that very night. The first leg was from Boston to Chicago, as we wanted to board a specific train. It meant sleeping on the train, but when we arrived in Chicago the next morning, we had plenty of time to collect luggage, eat a leisurely lunch, and arrange for tickets to the next train.

The California Limited and I were not strangers. The passenger train was something I’d boarded many a time over the past two years, as it was the most reliable way to go from northeast to west without tiring out everyone in the process. As much as I appreciated the truck—and Nozomi’s skill with it—it was not the fastest way to travel. Reliable, yes, especially in terrain where there were no roads. But fast it was not.

As we sat for lunch in a restaurant near the train station, I tried to think ahead. What would we need once we reached our destination? Supplies, certainly, as surely the mask had come from a hard-to-reach location. It wouldn’t be so alien to historians if it had come from a known dig. The tomb raiders had definitely found a tomb or grave site that no one else had plundered so far. It meant that wherever this place was, it was far off the beaten path. We’d need to lay in enough supplies to investigate without fearing the lack of water or food. Water, especially, would be hard to come by in that arid part of the country.

At my elbow, Arthur cleared his throat. “Arwen, it occurs to me that we might need to hire someone once we reach Gallup.”

I gave him a nod, swallowing what was in my mouth before answering. “I think you’re right. A survivalist is called for. Someone from the area would be beneficial.”

“To help us reach and perhaps talk to the native American Indians in the area?” Dr. Warwick asked. He sat across from me, and from the cant of his head I could tell he was intrigued by the idea. “I admit, whenever I’m on a dig, I always hire a native as a guide. They know things no guidebook can tell you. If we’re going to be hopping about all over that area, a guide seems a good choice.”

“I fear we’ll need one in more ways than one. Arthur has decent camping skills thanks to his time in the army—”

Dr. Warwick made a noise of interest. “You were in the army, sir?”

“I was, yes, many years ago now. It’s how I became a retainer for Arwen’s family. I served under her father, and when he left the service, he took me home with him. At the time, I thought it the only prudent course. Looking back, it’s one of the better decisions I made. Even if I had no idea what to do with this precocious child handed to my care.”

I chuckled, throwing him a grin. It had been something of a learning experience for him. Prior to me, Arthur had not been around children at all. He’d treated me as a miniature adult, not sure what else to do, and I’d adored him for it. Even if my father had taken pity and given him something else to do, I’d have thrown a fit at that age. Arthur had become my person.

“Her smile indicates you did fine,” Dr. Warwick said.

“I adored him from the start,” I agreed easily. “Still do. I assume he likes me just as much if he’s willing to follow me all over creation.”

“At the very least,”—Arthur’s Southern drawl deepened as he lifted his glass—“she promises that life is never dull. We’ve become sidetracked, I think. I don’t have quite the same skills as a survivalist. Really, hiring a shootist from that area will do quite nicely. They’ll have the tracking skills we need and offer another means of protection. Forgive me, Dr. Warwick, but you don’t strike me as a fighting man.”

“I won’t go down without a fight, but I’ll admit my gun skills are not the best. I don’t have cause to practice them on a regular basis. If you want to hire additional protection for this trip, I heartily agree with the sentiment.”

Dr. Warwick was not a man of false confidence or bravado. The more time I spent around this man, the more I liked him.

“We’ll interview people and find someone in Gallup before continuing on, then,” I decided. “I’ll include it as part of our necessary expenses.”

“Do you normally hire a survivalist of some sort on these trips?” Dr. Warwick asked, cutting into his steak.

I had to think about that for a moment. “I would say about half the time.”

“Not every case she takes is tied to some ancient, historical artifact,” Nozomi chimed in. “Flo, pass me the salt, would you? Thanks. We mentioned the dagger, correct? That’s a good case in point.”

Dr. Warwick sounded as if he was mentally taking notes. “What other cases have you taken?”

“Oh, the usual.” I couldn’t help but keep my voice droll as I answered, teasing him. “Cursed statues, mirrors—mirrors are absolutely terrible about absorbing power for some reason—”

“Why?” he asked, fascinated.

“It’s glass, really. Any form of glass loves magical energy. It’ll absorb it. It’s why I’ve always harbored the suspicion that there must be some truth to the story of Cinderella and her glass slipper. Why glass? Because it ties well into magick.”

Arthur nudged my elbow. “Eat, Arwen, we’re running out of time.”

I ate, but Dr. Warwick wasn’t done with all of his questions.

“What else have you seen?”

“Voodoo dolls from New Orleans,” Flo said. “Druidic pendants from Maine—”

“MAINE?!” Dr. Warwick spluttered. “Surely that was a more recent find. I mean to say, someone brought it over here?”

“Oh no, it was found in an ancient campsite in Maine,” I denied easily. “The Druids were here hundreds of years ago. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

Dr. Warwick spluttered some more. “What else have you just stumbled across that shouldn’t be on the American continent?”

I didn’t have to ponder on that one to answer, “A lot.”

“The Vikings were over here, too,” Nozomi threw in with an air of mischief. She was deliberately tweaking his nose and enjoying every second of it.

“I am most definitely revisiting this topic when I have a notebook on hand,” he said decisively.

I liked this attitude of his. His eagerness to learn, to absorb what we knew and had experienced, was so refreshing from the usual naysayers I had to deal with. I found myself wanting to tell him the truly incredible stories, the ones most people would dismiss out of hand, too uncomfortable mentally to absorb it. On the other hand, I didn’t want to break his brain by overloading him with information, either. I’d have to find a good balancing point.

“For now, eat,” Arthur urged us all again, much like a parent with an unruly table of children. “We have a half hour until we must be at the station.”

I was almost finished, but we still had to oversee the truck being loaded onto the train. Nozomi was quite fussy about her baby. I also wanted to check on a certain mask to make sure it was still behaving itself. At this point, I had absolutely no trust left to give it. Truly, even the serial dagger hadn’t given me this much trouble when it came to being sealed. Which said something, as it had tried to murder people left, right, and center.

It’s sad when I’d prefer a serial killer’s aura over an ancient mask.

We finished lunch and then went across the street to the train station. Arthur had already arranged all of our luggage there, so we had very little left to do aside from board the train. I stopped at the truck, going into the locked compartment to retrieve the box. I eyed the mask suspiciously as I did so, just daring it to have misbehaved in the hour since I’d seen it.

This time, however, it was perfectly docile and not trying to rearrange the buildings around me. Dare I hope the combination of elements had finally done the trick and kept the mask sealed inside? I strangely felt like knocking on wood, as if just thinking such a thing had brought bad luck upon me. I’d worried about the glass, since glass loved to amplify energy, but I’d chosen to use it with the hope it would amplify the argon’s energy. It seemed to be working?

I shook the feeling off, grabbing the box and hoisting it closer—or trying to. The weight had made it unwieldy. It was half-balanced on the seat of the truck, and I honestly felt that if I took it completely off, it would send me staggering right onto my backside.

“Oh, Ms. Arnoult, please do let me help.” Dr. Warwick sprang to my side to assist me, arm brushing against mine as he grabbed the edge of the box. “I fear this is too heavy for you.”

“I fear the same,” I admitted ruefully. “I didn’t realize how much it weighed. Thank you. You have it?”

“I do.”

I backed off, giving him the room to take over. “If you could put it in my compartment? I would like to keep it on hand, just in case.”

“Of course.”

The California Limited was a newer train and rather on the luxurious side. The cars were made of steel, with a day compartment that converted over to sleeping bunks, a drawing room, dining car, and parlor. The different cars provided us the ability to stretch and socialize, which I appreciated since it was a solid two-day, two-night trip. Having our own toilet room for the ladies was also a nice perk. We paid for it, of course—the tickets were far from cheap at a stunning forty-five dollars a person—but I was perfectly willing to pay the price. The rest of the trip would have no accommodations whatsoever. I enjoyed the luxury where I could squeeze it in.

We were shown into our assigned compartments, with Flo, Nozomi, and I in one car, Arthur and Dr. Warwick in the one next door. Two bench seats faced each other in our compartment; they would each fold down to make lower bunk beds at night. The upper bunk folded down from the window, which Nozomi would sleep in since she had the better flexibility out of the three of us. Well, I could get up there, but I’d also been known to misjudge distances in the dead of night and fall flat on my face, so Nozomi always drew the short end of the stick.

The only safe place to put the box was tucked under the washbasin in the toilet area, which Dr. Warwick obligingly did for me. Hopefully no one stubbed a toe against the edge of it in the middle of the night. I didn’t hold my breath on that possibility, though.

“Thank you, Dr. Warwick.”

“My pleasure, of course. Let me know if you need to move it in any way.”

“I will, thank you.”

He left, no doubt to settle his own belongings in the compartment, and I let him go, as I needed to do the same. After so many trips, I knew how to pack lightly into two bags—one for shorter jaunts like this, the larger bag carrying other changes of clothes that I could leave in the baggage car. It gave us more room in the compartment, which was on the tight side.

Nozomi came in, a porter at her side with her bag, which she took from him before tipping the boy.

Flo looked up from where she was bent over the bench, searching for something in her bag. “Was there trouble? You took rather a long time.”

“Ah, not trouble, but the train engineer caught sight of the truck and stopped me with questions. Once he realized I’d built it, he started asking even more questions. We got invested in the conversation.” Nozomi shrugged. “It was nice to talk shop for a bit. Everything all right here?”

I knew what she was really asking and assured her, “The mask is being well behaved. We’re fine.”

“Good. Hopefully it stays that way.”

The train gave a lurch, the engine pulling hard as it got us underway.

“I came in just in time,” Nozomi observed rhetorically. “Well. Flo, are you reading to us tonight?”

Reading was how we normally passed the time in the evenings while on a case. I, of course, could not read fine print. I could barely read very large building signs, for that matter, although given the right amplification tools and time, I could make them out. Books, however, were quite beyond me. Nozomi enjoyed a good story and was always happy to be read to, keeping me company. Our designated storyteller was often Flo, as her throaty alto stayed easy on the ears. If we could trick Arthur into it, he was quite the storyteller himself, although he didn’t think of himself as being one. It was hard to convince him otherwise.

“I will if I can find the thrice-cursed— Ah! There it is.” Flo yanked the book out triumphantly. “How it managed to worm its way to the bottom of my case, I will never know. All right, ladies, let’s settle in. I think we’re about to get to the good part.”

Flo was reading us the novelized version of The Phantom of the Opera, but she’d followed it in its original form as a French serial. She knew the story but, despite that, was enjoying it all over again while reading it to us. Sometimes a little too much, as she improvised singing some of the lines.

I’d never tell her this, but of Flo’s many talents, music was not one of them.

Still, I could let her have her fun as she sought to entertain us, and the story was the perfect blend of romance, action, and that dash of horror that sent delicious chills along the spine.

We settled in, Flo finding where she’d left off, using different voices for different characters. (Her acting was fortunately better than her singing.) I listened with eyes closed, giving my poor eyes a break after straining them for most of the day, a half-smile lingering on my face.

As I listened to the story, I had a suspicion the fair heroine would not choose the Phantom. I guess we’d see if I was right or not.

We broke to eat dinner, going to the dining car and enjoying an excellent meal there before returning to our cabin. I resumed the work I’d stopped, picking up the bits of metal and pliers again. While Flo read, I often made chains, necklace hooks, and the like to have on hand for the next charm-making. I’d made these things so many times, I could do it from memory and feel alone. It made things easier and gave me something to keep my hands occupied while Flo entertained me. A win-win situation.

Once our eyes started drooping, we all opted for bed, maneuvering around each other to set up the bunks and change into night clothes. I settled on my side, squirming a bit to get comfortable. Not that I would stay there. I wasn’t a side sleeper. Or a back sleeper. Or even a stomach sleeper. I was the type to toss and turn like a drunken dervish until sleep ripped me forcefully from the world.

There was a reason why sleeping bags and I were not friends.

“Dr. Warwick is kind, isn’t he?” Nozomi said aloud.

“He has been very kind and thoughtful,” I agreed.

Flo tacked on, “Arthur seems to have a good opinion of him, too.”

That spoke volumes. Arthur had a very good judgement of people, and he was rarely wrong.

We talked a little more but eventually I fell asleep. My dreams were strange and fantasy-like. I dreamed that I could move the earth to my will, that I could call for it and it would answer. I dreamed that I confronted faceless enemies I must defeat in order to protect my homeland. I stood in a desert land, my eyes fully able to see every detail around me, the sun scorching hot on my face. A song wove into my movements and I matched its tempo, my hands and feet lifting with the beat, slamming into the earth in time with its rhythm.

It was such a realistic dream that when I woke up, I still felt that hot, burning sensation on my face. It was a little alarming until I realized the morning sun was streaming through the window and landing directly on my cheeks.

Surely that was just coincidence, right? My subconscious slotting together what I was doing with what my body felt and coming up with some scenario. My imagination was a rich one, I knew that. I dismissed it, throwing the blanket off so I could rise.

“Uh, Arwen?” Nozomi asked from her perch on the bed.

“Yes?”

“You mind checking the mask?”

The uncertain way she asked this raised alarm bells in my mind. My gaze flew up in her direction. “Why?”

“I may have dreamed I was some shaman-like woman who could make earth fly around last night.”

I stilled abruptly. “I…also dreamed that.”

“Oh.” Nozomi sounded even more disturbed now. “That’s a really weird coincidence.”

“I don’t like it, either.” I was out of the bed in a flash, going around the wall to look at the box. It was in the exact spot where I’d left it, sitting there docilely like it hadn’t done anything untoward.

Did I trust that?

Not on your life.

“How does it look?” Nozomi demanded.

“Innocent.” I continued to glare at the box. “I see no energy leaking out.”

“So the strange dreams are just coincidental?”

“I hope that’s it.” Would I bet on it?

No.

Eight

If the dreams were a coincidence, then it was almost conspiracy level. At breakfast, I talked it over with the others, and every single person in our gropu had dreamed the same thing. Worse, the couple in the neighboring compartment heard our discussion and chimed in with a recounting of very similar dreams.

Everyone within reach having the same dream was too much; there was no way to dismiss it as simple coincidence. My trust in the mask, already at rock bottom, fell even further.

I didn’t see any obvious leakage of energy from the mask. That clearly meant nothing. The energy might be so insidious, so circumspect, that I couldn’t see it…yet. The effects of it were obvious enough, however, and I wouldn’t ignore it. I was glad that no one else had been seduced into heeding its call, but I put that down largely to the protections I had on everyone. Really, we were lucky no one outside of my protection had been influenced enough to try stealing it.

I spent the rest of the day in the compartment with the box, not willing to take my eyes off of it, and schemed. What could I change? What elements could I use instead of the ones I had here? My normal tools didn’t seem to be working, which was frustrating, but on a train like this that didn’t stop, I didn’t have the recourse to go and shop for something different. It would have to wait until we were in Gallup, or I would have to be inventive with what I already had on hand. I was getting close to trying my Shinto seals. The mask was nature based enough it might be fine, but I was loath to risk explosions on a train unless I absolutely had to.

As the day went on, people stopped by with snacks and tea. They never stayed long, not wanting to interrupt while I was working, but it was heartwarming to have their concern, and I was grateful for the sugar. I was very lucky to have them as my friends.

Arthur came and got me for dinner, which I was reluctant to leave for, but staying shut in with the mask all day hadn’t garnered any results. I could spin theory after theory, but I needed actual experimentation to prove what would work to seal it completely. At this point, I didn’t even feel that any of my theories were particularly viable. I might as well try a change of scenery and provide fuel for my brain. It was the only chance I had of perhaps coming up with something brilliant. Right now, I felt anything but.

I sat with the others in the dining car, enjoying the richness of the scents around me. The food smelled delightful. It generally was on trains, as they employed excellent cooks. Having enough room to stretch out my legs a little at the table was also quite nice. The car was full, it being dinnertime, with people carrying on conversations as they ate. It was pleasant, the chattering, after so many hours of taut silence.

Flo waited until after our food had arrived and I’d eaten most of my plate before asking the inevitable. “No ideas, I take it?”

“One,” I answered on a sigh. “I’m not sure how feasible it is to do while on a moving train. I’ll definitely need Nozomi’s help.”

“Of course,” my friend assured me readily. “After this?”

“No, I want to think about it some more. The mask isn’t in danger of breaking free. I still see no energy leaking from the box, and I might come up with something brilliant while I’m sleeping.”

Arthur snorted. “That last bit sounds like desperation talking.”

I grimaced, unable to disagree. Waiting for inspiration to strike was hardly the best plan.

Dr. Warwick cleared his throat, drawing my attention to him. “If you don’t mind my asking, Ms. Arnoult, can we pick up the topic again of your abilities? As I mentioned, I’ve seen shamans that do something similar to what you’re doing, but you approach it differently. How were you trained?”

It was a fair question, and honestly, I was surprised he was only asking it now. “I’ve studied with various magicians who come close to my sight, and I’ve adapted what they’ve taught me to suit my own talent, but I haven’t met someone who matches my ability. My eyes have always been able to see the world like this, ever since I opened them.”

“So this was a natural gift?”

“It is.” I’d rather have fully functional eyes, honestly, but my magical sight did come in handy. I didn’t unwish it. I paused, trying to best form how to explain. “What I see is energy. Everything has it, in some form or fashion. Inert, man-made things don’t carry much energy; the more natural elements have a purer form. Living beings—everything from reptiles to mammals—have a more obvious energetic signature. I see it as bundles of white energy moving about. It’s not incredibly bright, so it’s not distracting, but it is something visible to me. Magical artifacts are on a different scale. They’re very bright, concentrated forms of power. It’s rather like staring directly into a bonfire. Sometimes they carry very strong colors, and usually that’s a sign of trouble. Those that are neutral are white, more an absence of color. Those that have absorbed a specific task tend to carry a color with it. Reddish-brown, for instance, that always speaks of trouble.”

“I think I see,” he answered slowly.

“What I’ve done over the years is experiment. I took the energy I could see from elements around me and started putting them together. What was compatible? What wasn’t? What could I use, what should I avoid using? I have a whole chart now, based on that experience. I can almost see in a glance if something will be compatible or not, but I have been wrong. Sometimes, something subtle escapes my notice.”

“Like you trying to put lead around the mask?”

“Yes, I assumed too much when I did that. Lead has always been my go-to when sealing something, as it’s never failed me before. But it’s also rare that I come across an artifact so predominantly earth based. If I hadn’t been distracted by spinning stones, I would have realized that sooner.” I shook my head at my own folly. “I’ve spent most of my childhood and adolescent years figuring out the hard way how things worked. I don’t approach anything lightly now. That said, this mask seems determined to make a fool out of me.”

Because Nozomi was my best friend, she said, “And is succeeding.”

I pinched her in the ribs for that, making her squirm and laugh. Just wait, I’d get revenge for that comment later.

Arthur stayed practical. “Is there anything you can do for tonight, just to mitigate the strange dreams?”

“I’ll clear the energy out, see if that helps. Mi-chan and I will tackle building something else in the morning. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Fair enough.”

Dr. Warwick cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but can I ask how you are blind? Considering you see so much.”

It was a fair question, and truly, if he was to travel with me then he would need to know. “I rely a lot on the energetic world to navigate. The physical world is a blur; I can see light, shadow, general shapes, and color to a degree, but no particulars. The world is very fuzzy to my eyes. My glasses”—I gave them a tap along the rim—“have corrective spells on them, but they only help so much. Mostly, they filter out the colors harmful to my eyes. Light blues and greens are painfully penetrating, for some reason.”

“Ah. I believe I understand. How can I aid you as we travel?”

“Because manmade things have no energy, they give me some trouble to navigate around. I might take your arm and let you guide me through places. I have no night vision whatsoever, so at night especially, help guide my feet. I also have no ability to read—fine print is beyond me—so if you’d like to give Flo or Mi-chan’s voices a rest from time to time and read to me, I’d be quite obliged.”

“Well, it’s no hardship on me to do any of that. Just ask, I’ll be happy to step in.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I shall.”

It had the feeling of a long night, so I ordered dessert and relished every bite before returning to the compartment. The mask still looked innocent and docile, so I chose to leave it be.

Flo read to us some more from The Phantom of the Opera until we’d reached a good stopping point, and then we all opted for bed. I used my platinum wand to clear the air both inside the compartment and around the hallway, to no discernible difference. At least, my eyes weren’t picking up on anything out here. It did make me wonder, was the mask just subconsciously influencing us? Was it capable of that? I couldn’t come up with any other rational explanation.

It was all too strange.

I went to bed feeling on edge and restless. I wanted to sleep but wasn’t able to settle enough. Some part of me felt that I should be battle ready, and it was a hard feeling to dismiss.

Finally, somewhere around midnight, I fell into a doze. I was comfortable enough that I didn’t want to move, my mind teetering on the edge of falling into a true slumber. At first, the quiet snick of the compartment door opening didn’t register with me. My mind dismissed it, wanting to sleep, not deal with some strange sound. Then I realized what I’d heard and my eyes sprang open.

You think I’m a nice person? Just wake me up from sleep for no reason, and then you’d see.

Cursing mentally, I lifted my head up, edging the blankets back. Was it really the compartment door I’d heard? Or was it the box lid opening? Had I dreamed the sound entirely? My paranoid state was such that it was entirely possible I had.

Then I heard it—the sound of the box being stealthily moved, shifting across the floor, and the sound of a man’s heavy breathing as he struggled under the weight. My eyes snapped in that direction, and I saw the energy of a human man bent in half near the door. Worse, the energy from the box was leaking out quickly.

Shimatta.

“ARTHUR!” I screamed as loudly as I could, throwing myself out of the bed. “ARTHUR, HELP!”

I heard the thump next door as someone threw themselves out of their bed. Flo and Nozomi bolted upright in the next instant.

“Arwen, what—” Flo demanded.

The man in the compartment cursed, then tried harder to pick up the box. I could hear the grunt of effort and the way he slammed against the door, trying to get out. I launched myself in his general direction, hands finding and latching on to the cloth of his coat, and bodily threw myself backward, dragging him to a halt.

“Let go, you stupid—”

The door was wide open, the lights from the hallway were still blazing, and they gave me blessed illumination. I could see the outline of him now: a tall man, heavyset, his arms full of the box. I barely got his measure before Arthur appeared in sleep clothes, a gun in hand.

“Drop that!” Arthur commanded sharply.

The man didn’t want to listen. He jerked around, elbowing me in the face, hitting me hard in the jaw. I didn’t want to release him, but the bright pain made me let go on instinct. I went down hard, catching myself on the wooden wall next to me.

“Kuso,” Nozomi bit off, then was on the man’s back like an avenging angel, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him down. “Let go of the box!”

Flo helped me off the floor, then drew me out of the line of fire altogether. This wasn’t the right place to use my own brand of fighting—the area was far too small for it—and I feared friendly fire if I tried. Besides, Arthur and Nozomi seemed to have this well in hand.

Or so I thought until I realized that while we’d fought, the mask had succeeded in wrapping its energy around the man. A little fisticuffs hadn’t slowed the mask down in the slightest.

The man was bespelled.

“Hold him,” I commanded sharply, diving for my bag. “He’s under the mask’s spell!”

Dr. Warwick was there in the next second. “What— Oh the devil, we’ve a thief?”

I snatched up my wand, turned again, and waved it in an arc, dispelling all energy. It fell apart like a half-finished weave, collapsing entirely.

The man staggered under its release, then blinked at all of us in confusion. His eyes went down to the box in his arms, still confused, and turned rock still.

“What am I doing here? I didn’t— What is this?”

“I say, what’s the commotion?” another male voice demanded from the hallway.

I groaned, not wanting to deal with a train employee at this juncture. I didn’t think our would-be thief was here of his own volition, and it would have been better to just clear him, let him go, and deal with the real culprit: the benighted mask.

But how did I even begin to explain that?

I wanted to snatch the box away from him but of course couldn’t—it was too heavy for me to lift. I motioned to Dr. Warwick. “If you’ll take the box, please.”

Dr. Warwick did not move with alacrity to take the box, indicating caution on his part, and I could hardly blame him. Who wanted to take charge of something that was already bespelling people? But good man that he was, he took it anyway. I gave the box a smart rap of warning, just daring the mask to try anything else. I was not above throwing it onto the train tracks. With my jaw still smarting from a growing bruise, I was not in the kindest frame of mind.

Arthur turned and handled the train employee, spinning some yarn about the man getting mixed up in his half-asleep state about which compartment was his, and no harm was done.

I let him take charge of that matter, turning to the man who was still staring about in confusion, not sure why he was here.

“Sir, what’s your name?” I asked.

A shawl landed over my shoulders, Flo covering my nightgown, and I shrugged it closer absently. I was not worried about modesty at this point, but rather getting to the bottom of this.

“Er, Bob. I’m Bob Fletcher,” he answered, finally focusing on me. “I’m so sorry, did I… I had something to drink with dinner, but I don’t think I went to bed drunk?”

I was not above using this idea and ran with it. “I’m afraid you might have been more tipsy than you realized. Were you dreaming something?”

“Oh, yes. I dreamed I was an Indian medicine man, of all things, and I was using this strange mask to move earth around. Wild story, isn’t it? But I’ve been reading this western novel by Zane Grey before bed, maybe that’s where my mind came up with it all.”

I gave him a genial smile. “Perhaps so. Well, as I said, no harm done.”

“I’m so terribly sorry. I really don’t know what made me come in here like this. You can rest assured I won’t drink for the rest of the trip.”

“Probably wise,” I allowed. “Don’t think anything more of this, all right? Go back to bed and have sweet dreams.”

“Thank you so much.” Still befuddled but glad he wasn’t in trouble, Bob slid sideways through the door and past the men, muttered something that could have been an apology for the ruckus, and left.

Arthur settled the employee before sticking his head inside. “Arwen, what happened?”

“He tried to take the mask,” I answered grimly. “The box is not sealing it as well as I’d hoped. Dr. Warwick, bring it back inside, if you would. Mi-chan?”

“We’re going to stay up all night redoing this design, aren’t we?” she asked in a resigned tone.

“Well, it’s either that or we try going back to sleep knowing the mask will just reach out for someone else to break in here. Which option would you prefer?”

She sighed, and I could tell from the sound that she was perfectly willing to design a contraption to launch it into the sun.

I admit, the thought had merit. If technology and magick allowed us to do so, I’d be all for it. Unfortunately, we did not.

I cracked my neck to either side like a boxer preparing to step inside the ring. “Right. Let’s think outside the box, no pun intended. You’ve bested me twice, mask. You shall not succeed a third time.”

Nine

“It’s the glass!” I growled in utter vexation. Mostly with myself. I foresaw this, after all, I should have mitigated it.

My team froze mid-motion, turning toward me.

We were in the baggage car now, using the truck’s workbench as I tried to fix the shield. Again. We’d been at this since midnight. It was edging toward midmorning now, and I was no closer to an answer. Arthur had brought a plate of food for me so I wouldn’t skip breakfast, but I hadn’t dared leave the confines of the baggage car all morning. We’d cracked open a door to give us some airflow, and we had two lamps going for light, but it was dim in here. This wasn’t like a passenger car, where there were windows. The confines were crowded, too, with crates and trunks and odd-shaped packages taking up the majority of the room. If not for the open door, it would have smelled musty. The strong, pervasive odor of wood and metal filled the baggage car. Dr. Warwick and Flo had taken to sitting in the very back seat of the truck for lack of perch options.

“What?” Nozomi asked first, her tone edging toward hopeful.

“It’s the glass,” I repeated more forcefully, still mentally kicking myself for being an idiot. “It has to be. Either the glass inside or the metal box is powering it, but I’d bet the glass.”

Flo threw her hands up. “I thought you said with all the cushioning around it, the glass and the metal wouldn’t affect it!”

“I’m clearly wrong. It’s not hampered by the paper or argon at all.” I stared at the box in absolute disgust, knowing I’d be irritated with myself for days over this one.

Arthur’s warm hand landed on my shoulder and gave me a pat. “Now, now, stop beating yourself up over it. Let’s move forward. What can we use instead?”

He was right, lingering on the mistake didn’t help anything. I sat back with a huff and thought about it. What was nonconductive? What did I have on hand, or could make with what I had on hand, that would work? Something used as an insulator that was known to ground energy would be best.

I couldn’t think of a single thing that wasn’t earth based.

I glared once again at the mask, wheels and cogs spinning madly in my head. If I couldn’t use something physical, maybe it was time to fight fire with fire.

“I don’t think I can use anything other than paper and wood,” I concluded aloud, still thinking it through. “I’d dearly love to use silicon carbide—”

Dr. Warwick interrupted me. “What’s that?”

“A compound made of silicon and carbon,” I explained absently. “Usually used as semiconductors for electronics, but I’ve discovered that compounds work rather well as shields. These artifacts don’t seem to know what to do with them, how to channel past them. It works well, most of the time. Also, as a general rule of thumb, if it can ground or conduct electrical energy, it can generally do the same for magical energy. Bakelite would be lovely, but I don’t have enough on me to manage it. I’ll need to stock up on it the next time I’m in New York.”

He sat on that answer for a moment. “Why Bakelite?”

“Question for the ages, Doctor. Question for the ages. When I figure it out, I promise to tell you. Right now, all I know is that it does. I choose not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Nozomi was already working on the practical side of the problem. “So…seals?”

“Seals,” I agreed, still thinking hard.

“You sure that will work?”

“I’ve seen enough to believe the energy compatible and not opposite. Shinto is nature-based, after all, and this thing seems to be the same. I’m reasonably sure I can put Shinto seals on the mask and it won’t result in an explosion.”

Dr. Warwick once again went with the practical question. “And if you’re wrong?”

“Then it ceases to be our problem.” I gave him a humorless smile. “All right. Mi-chan, hand me some paper. None of the seal talismans I have made up will work for this.”

“You tweaking again?” she muttered in complaint even as she moved for the box of supplies.

“Rather have to. A lot of the Shinto seals call for the earth to sustain the seal. I do not think that’s a good idea in this case.”

“Oh. Point,” she acknowledged.

Most of the time, I couldn’t draw a single letter if my life depended on it. I couldn’t see it, after all. However, talismans were a different sort of game altogether. Infused with energy as they were, I could draw the lines with unerring accuracy, not needing any aid. Nozomi could draw them as well, she had some of the same training, but she was only ever there to assist me.

I set about drawing the talismans, altering them so that the earth component was left out of them. Even as I worked, though, I came back to the problem of how to make this thing portable. The glass and metal box were definitely not a good option. What did that leave me?

Nozomi must have read my face—or knew enough after so many years of following me around to guess—because she was already moving around in the truck, reaching for something else. “What if we put the mask in the seals as the first level? We have sufficient wood now. I can build a wooden box and we can stuff it with paper, use that as the second level. The mask doesn’t really like wood, right?”

I nodded slowly, liking where she was going with this. “Right, it’s why paper works, more or less. It’s close to earth, but doesn’t have a strong affinity for it. Will you craft the box with or without magick?”

“The way you ask that question makes me think I should avoid magick.”

“I would, just to be safe. I don’t know if it’s using your power as a catalyst to boost its own, but I’m not willing to take chances at this stage. Can you make all of this without magick?”

“I’m insulted you even asked that.”

I shot her a saccharine smile and laid a fluttering hand over my heart. “I looooove you, Mi-chan.”

“Lies.”

Chuckling, I went back to business.

“Nozomi,” Arthur said, gesturing toward the workbench, “how long will it take to build the box?”

“Hmm, maybe an hour?”

“Start that, then. Flo, let’s you and I cut paper.”

“I’ll help,” Dr. Warwick offered.

“Thank you, Doctor.” I gave him a weak smile. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

“I’m learning a great deal and, frankly speaking, no task is beneath me. It’s all work that needs to be done, am I right?”

Arthur gave him an approving nod. “Precisely so.”

Bless that attitude. He was right, but there were people in this world who deemed some tasks as too mundane to be worth their time. Traveling and working with such people was quite the ordeal. I was glad Dr. Warwick wasn’t one of them, especially with the mask giving me this much trouble.

If I only had some inkling of this mask’s origin—the culture it sprang from, the purpose it was used for specifically—I’d have a better chance of corralling its energy. As it stood, the mask was so foreign I couldn’t even properly read its energy, not until it did something and I could connect it to an element. It frustrated me to the extreme, but there was nothing I could do except observe and try to learn as I went.

I left my colleagues to cutting paper and building a box. I had a mask to wrangle. I pulled on my lead-lined gloves then lifted the mask out of the metal box. It did no good in there, so I might as well wrap it up in my talismans first. I was quick, or as quick as I could be in such crowded conditions, taking the four talismans I had drawn up, wrapping them around all sides. Then I sat back and watched anxiously, trying to determine how effective they would be. I could clearly hear the mask’s song, although it sounded muted, as if it were underwater.

The fact it was still singing was not a good sign.

After five solid minutes, Dr. Warwick’s nerves couldn’t take it anymore. “Well? Is it working?”

“Do you hear the song?”

“Well, yes, but it’s much fainter.”

That did make me feel marginally better.

“I’d give it a solid fifty percent efficiency rating.” I cocked my head to the side, still staring at it intently. The energy was slowly seeping out, heavy and dense. Sluggish, yes, but still finding a way to seep through the gaps between the four talismans. “Clearly four talismans are not sufficient to make this thing behave.”

“Eight?” Nozomi suggested.

“I feel like eight might be called for. No harm in trying.”

I didn’t want to say this, but so far our track record for keeping the mask locked away was zero for nil. For one reason or another, we were constantly taking this thing back out. I didn’t see how that would be any better in the future. If eight talismans didn’t stop this thing, I didn’t know what would. Usually a single talisman could stop things in their tracks. Short of wrapping it up like a Christmas present, what else could I do?

Arthur prompted me with a gentle nudge against the arm. “What’s the first step to solving the problem?”

A wry smile tugged at my lips. I remembered this lesson from childhood all too well. “Don’t panic.”

Dr. Warwick piped up, curiosity lilting his voice. “Panicking seems reasonable under the circumstances, so why not?”

“Because we know more than we think we do.” What I did not know, I could fake rather well. Confidence, that was the key.

“Let’s try putting it in the crate, surrounded by paper, and see if it’s even necessary,” Flo suggested. “There’s no reason to commit to making more talismans now.”

Dr. Warwick allowed, “True.”

I let them go back to working without any input from me, using my wand to dispel the energy that seeped out every minute. The mask was no doubt frustrated I kept dispelling its efforts to enchant someone. I didn’t really care if I hurt its feelings or not.

No, it probably wasn’t sentient enough for feelings. I didn’t think that. I just knew my feelings were such that, if it did have them, I would be happy to hurt them.

At this point in time, the mask was lucky I hadn’t already made funeral arrangements.

Nozomi was good to her word and had the box done in an hour. She informed me she made it without nails, using dovetails and glue, which was smart of her. We happily crammed the paper inside, with the mask inside its talisman wrappings. I replaced the black tourmaline crystals in the corners before putting the lid on top, and then we held our collective breath.

Silence abruptly descended, no trace of that odd music to be heard. There was also no trace of energy to be found. I was cautiously optimistic, but the other box had the same effect at first, too. I wasn’t entirely sold this was the answer. Still, it was a relief to have that thrice-cursed song out of my head.

“It worked,” I said with relief. “That worked.”

A tired, ragged cheer came from everyone.

“I’m tying it shut with some very stout rope,” Nozomi said, glaring at the box.

“That should work, thanks.”

Nozomi grunted, already moving toward the bin where we kept rope. “After I’m done, I say we go take a nap. Arthur, how long until we’re in Gallup?”

He pulled out his pocket watch from his vest. “Roughly three hours?”

That sounded a good napping time to me. “Then let’s catch up on what sleep we can. The real work begins when we arrive in Gallup.”

No one could argue that wasn’t the case, despite the many instances of ‘work’ that had already occurred on this trip. I’d like to say most cases weren’t like this, where I was battling an artifact the entire way to our destination.

It would be a lie, though. It did happen on a fairly frequent basis.

We left the baggage car, going back to our own compartments. I only took off my shoes before falling face first into the bunk bed and falling fast asleep. It felt like a bare five minutes had passed before I was being shaken awake again, the hand on my shoulder insistent, not taking no for an answer. Which I didn’t appreciate. My jaw hurt, and the shaking didn’t help any. My healing charm hadn’t done its job yet.

“Up, Arwen, we’ve fifteen minutes until we reach the station.”

I got one eye open to peer blearily at Flo. “I don’t like you right now.”

“You can hate me all you like, just get up.”

I remembered a day when I was barely into my teens when I had wished ardently to be an adult. Now that I was one, I had to wonder, what had my child-self been thinking? I didn’t want to be an adult today. I wanted to be a cat. All I needed was a sunbeam to lie in and someone to pet me and bring me snacks.

Sighing, I summoned willpower from somewhere and managed to roll out of the bed. We maneuvered around each other clumsily, washing our faces, straightening clothes, packing last-minute items away in our bags. By some miracle, we were ready to depart once we reached the station, the train whistle going off as it announced our arrival.

Flo kept my arm in hers as we got off the train and onto the station platform. I was still not quite awake, so her caution was likely warranted. Nozomi left her bag with Arthur and immediately went to the baggage area to oversee the unloading of her baby.

It was crowded here, people jostling back and forth as they got off, porters calling out prices to carry the bags. To my sleep-deprived self, it was sensory overload, and I kept wincing at the noise level. It smelled strongly of oil, too, and the stink of coal smoke from the engine overpowering every other scent in the area.

Only Dr. Warwick seemed bright eyed and bushy tailed. I suspected copious amounts of coffee. Well, academic types didn’t seem to believe in sleep, anyway. Not when there were answers to be found.

“Are we staying overnight here?” he asked over the din of the engine still rumbling and passengers talking as they offloaded.

“We’ll need to.” Arthur had to pitch his voice a little louder to be heard. “It’ll take several hours to find and interview someone, and we only have six or so hours of daylight left. I’d rather not start out tonight.”

“That’s what I thought. If I might ask, how do you go about hiring a cowboy? I’m familiar with hiring guides, but it’s generally through a business set up for that purpose. Cowboys are…an interesting choice.”

“Generally speaking, they’re the best resource. They’re trained in survival skills and tracking, after all, and there’s always someone at loose ends in need of a job. To find one, I usually stop in at the sheriff’s office. They’re accustomed to hiring extra help when trouble arises, so they know who’s reliable and who’s good with a gun. Then I reach out to their top picks first. We interview them and hire someone from there.” Arthur gave a general wave to the air. “This method hasn’t failed us yet.”

Fortunately. I wasn’t sure what to do if it ever did fail.

We got luggage and people sorted, the porters clear on our destination: the nearest hotel. Nozomi took charge of the truck as, frankly, she trusted very few people to drive it. I kept the mask box in hand as we moved across the street and down a little.

Gallup, New Mexico, was a train town and that was obvious in moments. The main fronts of businesses were all along the track, and clearly sprung up there from necessity. It was more refined than some of the towns I’d been in. Businesses lined this road. I could hear customers inside asking for wares or being rung up, and the feel of the porch roofs giving shade above my head made it obvious I was in a business section. There were even wooden sidewalks stretched between the buildings, giving pedestrians a means to stay out of the mud when it rained. If it rained. New Mexico was very much a desert state, after all. It was a coal miner’s town originally, and I could still smell and feel the gritty smoke. Not a pleasant sensation, and I was glad we weren’t going to be in this town for long.

Arthur moved us along toward a decent-looking two-story hotel that was fairly clean, or so my nose told me. I didn’t detect any stale cigarettes or beers. With his usual efficiency, Arthur got us rooms—three this time, as there were only two beds per room. I didn’t mind the extra expense, as we might well need to shut me and the mask alone in a room tonight.

I prayed that wouldn’t be the case, though. I hoped we’d finally gotten the mask sealed properly.

Arthur got us situated in the rooms and then immediately went out again. I trusted him to handle finding a proper person to hire and chose to implement my time in regaining some semblance of humanity. I’d now slept in these clothes, I was sure my hair was frightful—my thick hair liked to create fun angles if I slept on it—and if I was to give a good impression as the boss of a team then I needed to look better than this. Less swamp witch, more dignified woman.

I cleaned up in the washbasin, running a wet comb through my hair to help reorder it into a new bun, then changed clothes altogether. It was a relief to be out of that skirt. Culottes were so much more liberating and comfortable. I felt somewhat refreshed afterward, if still sleep deprived.

In what was becoming a habitual tic, I checked on the mask again and found that it was still behaving. Excellent. I could safely ignore it for an hour or two. Hiring a cowboy here wasn’t the only task to be accomplished. We needed kerosene for the truck, water, supplies for us, and no doubt horse feed. Our cowboy would be severely hampered without his horse, so I needed to accommodate the beast.

I headed back downstairs, bumping into Flo and Nozomi in the hallway.

“Make-a-list time?” Flo inquired of me. “So we can shop properly once Arthur is back.”

“I think so. Mi-chan, how much kerosene do we have?”

“I could get the truck out of the town and maybe a mile down the road before we were out altogether. And that’s with me boosting it.”

“Oh. That low?”

“Unfortunately.”

I grimaced. I’d hoped we had more fuel than that. Oh well, needs must. I saw Flo already had a pad of paper and pen in hand, so we went down the stairs and into the dining room near the front of the hotel.

It was an odd time in the afternoon—after lunch, before dinner—so there were few, if any, other patrons lingering. The chairs were nice, with an upholstered cushion that promised comfort for the next few hours. We sat around a round table, my hands clasped on top of the bare, cool wood. We listed off food to buy, fuel, ammo for the guns, soaps, anything we could think of. It would come out to a hefty total, but keeping six people fed for a week—a week’s worth of supplies was all the truck could handle—was no easy task.

Or I should say, no cheap task.

And that was precisely why I billed my clients for travel expenses. Otherwise, I’d have no profit left.

A man who stank of sweat and dirt sauntered up to our table. He reeked of alcohol even at this hour and spoke in a voice like crushed glass chased by whiskey. “Girl. C’mere.”

I just knew he was speaking to Nozomi. Most men viewed Asian women as prostitutes, nothing more, nothing less, which was a deplorable viewpoint. Unfortunately, Nozomi had to deal with it rather often. She had five seconds to deal with him herself, and then I would let fire fly. I’d had quite enough of men approaching my friend for crass reasons.

“Excuse me!” Dr. Warwick stomped up to the man and forced him to back up by sheer dint of his presence. “You will not speak to a lady of my company in such a way.”

“Oh. Beg pardon, then.”

Drunk then, but not drunk enough to be stupid about it. He backed off quickly enough, rejoining his friends at the table.

“Ms. Banks, are you well?”

There was a smile in Nozomi’s voice as she responded. “I am, Doctor, thank you. It’s always nice when I don’t have to deal with idiots like that by myself. Sit, join us. We’re in the process of making a supply list. Is there anything you wish to add?”

“Quite possibly. What’s on the list?” He sat next to her, taking the paper from Flo’s hand with a slight rustle.

There were a few things he added on, nothing outrageous, just simple things like shaving cream and another canteen. We were just finishing the list—or at least, I hoped we hadn’t forgotten anything—when Arthur entered. A man shadowed him at his elbow, stride a touch bowlegged, gait easy. Oh? Had Arthur successfully found someone to hire?

I’d interview him, of course, but really it was formality. If Arthur brought someone to me, then they were the right person.

“Arwen,” Arthur greeted, coming to a stop at the table. “This is James Law.”

I gave Mr. Law a smile even as I took him in. From what I could see, he was a gruff sort of man, but he’d dressed nicely for the interview. Or at least he smelled clean. He stood with arms relaxed at his sides, confidence in his posture. I had a good impression of him.

I rose to my feet and extended a hand. “Mr. Law. I’m Arwen Arnoult.”

He took my hand, his own rough with calluses, grip gentle. His voice was a gruff bass, with a hint of gravel; a pleasant sounding voice all told. “Ms. Arnoult, pleasure.”

“Please let me introduce the rest of the table. This is Flo McGrath and Nozomi Banks.”

He tipped his hat to the rest of the table. “Ladies.”

“Last but not least, Dr. Warwick.”

“Doctor.”

“Mr. Law.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Law. We’ll talk more later, I feel, but we have errands to run at the moment.” Flo said to me, “Nozomi and I will start on the shopping.”

“Please and thank you. Doctor, will you accompany them?” I didn’t want them hassled just because they didn’t have a male escort, and Dr. Warwick could help them carry it all back.

“My pleasure,” he assured me, chair scraping as he immediately rose from the table.

“Thank you so much.” I let them go, gesturing Mr. Law toward a seat. “If you don’t mind, I have a few questions for you.”

“Of course, miss. Didn’t expect different.”

He struck me somehow as being near Arthur’s age. It could have been the slow, self-assured drawl, or the confidence with which he moved. I wasn’t sure, and age was impossible for me to determine, so I’d need to ask Arthur later.

Arthur leaned in against my side and described him in a quick undertone. “Law’s about my height, wiry kind of build, tanned skin, reddish-blond hair, brown eyes. He’s dressed in a clean white shirt and jeans.”

I gave him a nod of thanks.

We settled again at the table, and I cut straight to the matter. “Arthur no doubt explained to you what we need to do?”

“Yes, miss, he did. I have to tell you, you’re going straight into dangerous territory.”

I winced. Of course we were. Why would this trip get easier now? “Why do you say that?”

“Lot of politics and tension up near Navajo lands right now. That is where you’re heading?”

“Yes, it looks that way.”

“Mr. Griggs explained he needs someone who can track, scout, and be additional protection for the group while we’re out. I’ve been working this land since I was twelve, so I know it well. I can definitely get you in and out as a guide, no question. I’ll do my best to protect you. I just have to say, this best be all-fired important because you’re taking your life in your hands going in.”

I really should have dropkicked that mask into the ocean when I had a chance. I was sadly out of ocean where I was. Regret, you came so soon. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much of a choice. In we must go. Mr. Law, you’ve come highly recommended, otherwise Arthur wouldn’t have brought you to meet me. I believe you have the skills we need. Now, a few questions for you. I’m not sure how much Arthur explained. You are aware that I’m legally blind?”

“Yes, miss, so he said. Also said you’ve got interesting magick and can see some things just fine. Just everyday things give you trouble.”

Now there was a good way to sum it up. “I assume you’re all right with that if you’re sitting here interviewing with me?”

“Yes, miss, that’s fine.”

He sounded sincere, at least. “It will be I who am your boss, not Arthur. Are you comfortable taking orders from a woman?”

“Won’t be the first time, miss, nor the last.”

I snorted out a laugh. He was easygoing, Mr. Law. I was glad. “Good. There is one thing I must impress upon you. I need you to treat my companions with the same respect and care that you would me.”

“Yes, miss, that goes without saying,” he assured me. “You’re worried about Ms. Banks, I take it?”

“Not everyone treats her as they should, and sometimes she gets hassled just because she’s half Japanese.”

“I can see how that would be the case. I’ll look out for her, miss.”

I really did have a good impression of this man. Not everyone had given me the same sincere assurance. “Thank you. I worry for her sometimes. She’s one of the best mechanics I’ve ever met, and she keeps everything mechanical running. I’d be lost without her. Okay, terms are this: I don’t know how long this will take to settle. I’ll pay you $40 for a month’s wages, with expenses covered.”

He made a slightly choked sound in the back of his throat. “Miss? I’m not complaining, but that’s a little on the generous side.”

My smile was humorless in the extreme. “That includes hazard pay.”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “That does make more sense. Well, I’ll take it, regardless. When do we start?”

“We’ll leave out tomorrow morning, early. If there’s supplies you need or want, tell me now. We’ll buy supplies here before we leave.”

“I can give you a short list of what we need. But where precisely are we going?”

I gave him a sage nod. “That is indeed the question.”

Ten

I sat at the table with a nice hot cup of tea and let myself digest a rather excellent meal. I didn’t expect good food out here, but tonight’s dinner at least proved to be such. No one else seemed inclined to move yet, either, as sluggish as if we’d just eaten a Thanksgiving dinner.

Since Mr. Law would be protecting us, I decided it only fair to warn him. “Mr. Law?”

“Yes, miss?”

He said it the same way a man would say ‘yes, boss,’ which tickled me. “I think I should give you a better understanding of my sight limitations, all things considered.”

I heard it as he turned in his chair, facing me more head on. “Please do, miss. Your eyes always been like this?”

“Since birth. I can see light, dark, shapes, and general colors, but it’s all a blur. Finer details, like faces or print, are beyond me. I have no night vision whatsoever, so please make sure I have a lantern at my disposal at all times during the night.”

“Yes, miss, I can do that.”

“Thank you. I realize it’s hard to guard someone with visual impairments like this. I can see magical energy just fine, which includes the living energy in people, so I can navigate somewhat on my own. I rely on Flo or Arthur to guide my footsteps over rough terrain.”

“I understand, miss. If you don’t mind a question?”

A question was more than reasonable. “Of course, please ask.”

“Seems to me that you’re a well-educated woman who comes from a good family. I don’t think you need to actually be out here, risking life and limb, so why take these jobs?”

That was a more frank question than I’d anticipated. I’d been asked this very thing many times, mostly by my mother, who fainted at the idea of a woman even sweating.

Since he had been so blunt with me, I chose to answer in kind. “Because, sir, the idea of sitting at home and wasting away the hours on frivolity bores me to tears. Because I can’t be the kept, sheltered daughter of my family, no matter how my parents would prefer it. Because, no matter what, I have this talent. I have this ability. Anyone who comes to me is desperate for help. I can’t turn them away when I know how to solve the problem. I thrive on this challenge, on turning the preconception about a woman doing this sort of work on its head, and quite frankly, I revel in it.”

There was a smile in his voice as he answered. “Fair enough, miss. Can I ask, too, what got you started on this road?”

Oh, now there was a tale and a half. “It’ll take more than a minute to tell that.”

“We got all evening, miss, if you don’t mind telling it.”

I couldn’t refute that. I certainly didn’t mind, and I knew Dr. Warwick was interested as well. I’d promised to tell him but never quite got around to it. “It started when I was very, very young. Perhaps eight? My great aunt passed and my mother inherited her jewelry set. I remember sitting there, looking the set over, and then telling my mother not to wear it because that’s what had made my aunt so sick. I don’t think she believed me.”

Arthur snorted. “She didn’t. She found it a very strange remark, but you were a strange child, so she passed it off as fancy.”

I inclined a hand toward him. “He’d remember. He’s been with me since my childhood. At any rate, she chose to wear the set for a dinner, some gala event. She was dreadfully sick not an hour later and had to return prematurely. She put the jewelry aside and by morning felt much recovered. It was suspicious in the extreme. She chose not to tempt fate again, and called in a priest to examine it. I’m not sure what kind of sight he had, but he assured her there was a very dark feeling about the set, and that a true magical cleanse on the jewelry would be the better path. She did so, the energy was removed, and then she brought it to me. I think she wanted to test me. She asked if she could wear it now. I looked it over and told her yes, it wasn’t dark anymore.”

“Arwen had no way of knowing the jewelry set had been magically cleansed,” Arthur pitched in. “She wasn’t even in the house when I was sent on that errand. It unnerved her mother that she could so accurately speak of it. It wasn’t our first indication of her talent, but it was definitely the most remarked upon. Other things happened over the years as well. Whenever her mother brought home an antique, or something very old came into the house, Arwen would immediately dash over to give it a look. Sometimes she’d just shrug at it, like there was nothing interesting to see. Other times, she’d tell us to get rid of it. One time she actually set a chair on fire.”

No one was ever going to let me live that down, were they?

Dr. Warwick made a noise, like a stepped-on cat. “Wait, while it was in the house?!”

“I had a bucket of water on hand to put it out again,” I defended myself.

“That’s precisely what she said back then, too,” Flo muttered rhetorically.

“I couldn’t let anyone sit in it. That chair drove people to madness!”

Arthur patted me on the shoulder in comfort. “She said that, too. I’d seen enough by that point to believe she really could see what we could not. After that I convinced the master to take her to a Shinto priest or a magician, someone who could train her. I think he mostly agreed because he feared what else she’d set on fire.”

To be fair, I’d only set a few other things ablaze over the years. It was my backup plan when all other avenues failed.

“It took a few months to find the right person to train her. Most magicians couldn’t even fathom how she was seeing things as she did. We had to look for the unusual magicks before finding the right person. The Shinto priest was a good one. His sight worked much like hers, and she trained with him weekly for years. He was the one who taught her that the best method for quelling upset spirits was to return them to their natural resting place. Doing that would still their anger and let them resume a more harmonious state. Hence her method.”

“It works,” I pointed out. “It works better than trying to destroy the objects, most of the time. These artifacts are centuries old and much stronger than me. I’d rather put them back where they belong than break people trying to destroy them.”

“I’m not saying otherwise. It’s just a lot of trouble.”

I grimaced. It was certainly that. Some more than others.

Mr. Law tapped a finger on the table. “How’d all of you get roped into this?”

Arthur answered first, a note of fondness in his voice. “When she first announced what she intended to do as a career, her parents were dead set against it. Her father was inclined to let her try, mind, although it was more a way of proving that she couldn’t do it. The odds were stacked against her. Here she was, at twenty-one years old, not going into traditional medicine, and a woman to boot. If she’d been any less skilled, I don’t think her father would have let her out of the house. Her mother’s still trying to find some husband for her to keep her safely at home. Anyway, there was no swaying her from trying. Her father asked me to go along with her as protection. Flo had been promoted from governess to an engaged companion by that point and got roped into it as well.”

Flo just chuckled throatily, amused at the reminder. “I don’t even remember being asked, in fact. Everyone just assumed I’d go. Only Arwen assured me I could stay home if I so desired. I didn’t dare at that point; I feared what would happen if it was only her and Arthur.”

It would have been a disaster. I was not at all prepared for that first job, not like I’d thought I’d been. Experience had been a harsh teacher right out of the gate.

“The first job didn’t turn out as she’d expected, but we did get the job done.” Arthur sipped at his whiskey, still chuckling. “Her father was quite surprised she’d managed it. He didn’t know what to say to her when she returned victorious. He tried to press some money on her so she could have something to start a business with, but she blithely assured him it wasn’t necessary. She’d made out quite well on that job; the client had been generous, and she was off to see what other things needed her attention. I think she was barely home long enough to pack before we left the next morning.”

Ah, the early days. I remembered them with nostalgia—once I stopped wincing over how foolish I’d been. “It was on the third expedition that I realized I really had to stop and prepare better for eventualities. We’d gotten bogged down in a forest, slogging through mud and rain, and even after the artifact was placed, we had to slog our way back out again. It was a thoroughly miserable trip and something I could have prevented if I’d just put some forethought into it. We returned home and that’s when I approached Mi-chan.”

Nozomi smoothly took up the story. “I’d grown up with her, you see. My father is the mechanic for the family. He keeps her father’s racing cars and automobiles in top running condition. I lost my mother early, so by default I was in the garage with my father for most of my childhood. I loved it, it suited me perfectly, but no one’s really willing to hire a female mechanic mage. I wasn’t able to find work and was very frustrated by it. Arwen’s offer to me was a dream. I got to use my mechanical skills, her offer of pay was very generous, and I could spend more time with my best friend. I didn’t see any fault in the idea. Her request that I build a truck rugged enough to carry six people with all of our equipment was just the cherry on the cake.”

She’d been so excited by that idea, I’d had to sit on her a few times so she wouldn’t spend all night tinkering in the garage. I noticed she’d deliberately not mentioned that being biracial lowered the odds of her employment even more, but I think everyone at this table heard what she didn’t say. They knew how society worked well enough. I’d thought even then that, as long as I was turning society on its head, I might as well take Nozomi with me. Besides, it was much more fun with her along.

“I don’t think I realized just how dangerous Arwen’s job was, not until I went with her.” Nozomi’s eye roll was audible. “That had been a rude awakening. If she had been any other employer, I would have quit as soon as we got home. No paycheck was worth the insanity. But she’s a friend, I sort of love her—”

I grinned at her. “Love you too, Mi-chan.”

“Shut up, you brat. You’re the reason we’re all aging prematurely. Anyway. I wasn’t willing to let her gallivant around the country with only Arthur and Flo. They’re both capable people, but they needed a mechanic and someone who could help Arwen craft things as the situation called for it. I really don’t know how they managed on those first three cases.”

“Badly,” Flo assured her dryly. “We managed quite badly. Thank you for asking.”

“Once I got used to the danger, I realized the rest of the job isn’t that bad. I get to travel far more than most people do in their lifetimes. I learn more about history than is contained in any set of history books. The amount of tinkering I can indulge in with my constructs is just heavenly.” Nozomi gave a weighty pause. “Now, if we can just avoid getting stabbed, shot at, or entrapped in airless tombs, life would be peachy.”

I cackled like the insane woman I was. “Now, Mi-chan, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I think it’s broken. Something happened to it by following you around. Anyway, Mr. Law, that’s how we all came together. Dr. Warwick signed up for this because, poor man, no one was kind enough to warn him ahead of time that Arwen’s insane.”

Dr. Warwick made a noise of objection. “This is fascinating history. Of course I wanted to see how this all played out.”

“Ah, you’re also insane. That explains it.” Nozomi sipped at her tea. “Anyway, Mr. Law, one of the perks of being with us is that we modify weaponry for anyone who joins us.”

“Modify?” Mr. Law sounded both cautious and intrigued.

Arthur slipped his gun out of its holster and put it on the table for him to see.

To me, the weapon was a grey blurry blob. I knew, however, what Mr. Law was seeing, as I’d heard Nozomi and Arthur talk about it often enough. I could see the alterations she’d made with magick, as well, giving me some definition. She’d altered the barrel to be more accurate, adjusted the sights, and then further altered the magazine to hold more bullets. Six more, or so she said. It could also transform, going from pistol to rifle and back again with a quick removal of the wooden stock and a solid slap against the remaining butt. Arthur was thrilled with his gun and refused to give it up for any reason. Most men, once they saw what she’d done to it, demanded one just like it.

Mr. Law picked the gun up and handled it, giving a low whistle. “That is some fine craftsmanship. You did this, Miss Banks?”

“I did.”

“You’re a master, all right. I know many a person who would pay a fine penny to have something like this. A fine penny. You say I get this modification for free, just for traveling with you?”

Nozomi’s explanation was succinct. “With us, more ammunition is always called for.”

“Ah. Well, then, much obliged. I’ll hand it to you one gun at a time, if that’s okay.”

“I don’t think anyone should go about unarmed, so that’s reasonable,” Nozomi assured him.

“It does beg the question, though.” His attention turned back to me. “Miss Arnoult, when push comes to shove, who protects you? What’s your protocol?”

The question amused me. It also meant I hadn’t told him everything he needed to know. “I protect me.”

“I’m sorry?”

I pushed the sleeves of my shirt back enough to show the cuffs and extended my arms across the table so he could take a better look. I saw Dr. Warwick lean in and study them as well. “The left cuff produces oxygen. The right cuff produces fire. When entombed, stay close to me and you should be able to breathe fine. When in a fight, stay away from me. I’ll be throwing fire around like a pyromaniac.”

There was a beat of silence. Mr. Law was both incredulous and a touch unnerved as he repeated, “You throw fire around. At will?”

I didn’t think it would harm anything to do a small demonstration. Besides, my tea was getting tepid. I flicked my right wrist just enough to engage the cuff and send a spark dancing along my fingertips.

Both men jumped from their seats, the chairs rattling against the wood floor in a loud clatter.

I held the flame steady so they could grow accustomed to it and see that I had complete control. When they stopped edging backward, I gave them a smile. “Imagine this but on a larger scale. I can throw flame at will. Aiming can be…tricky. Especially in nighttime conditions. Hence, I have all of you with me. I’m not infallible, after all.”

Mr. Law cleared his throat, tried to speak, made a croaking sound, then cleared it again before managing actual articulation. “Miss Arnoult. Excuse my language, but a man must be dang crazier than a bedbug to cross you.”

“I’ll take that compliment, sir. Unfortunately, greedy men aren’t prized for their common sense.”

“Point taken, miss. Point taken.”

I used the flame to heat up my tea before letting it fizzle out.

Dr. Warwick gestured toward me. “If you can do that with fire, then does that mean you can do the same with lightning? It’s only charged air, after all.”

Ah, the truly intelligent mind. It was a pleasure to have one like him in my company if he could make these leaps of logic without trouble. “Precisely so.”

“Very crazy to cross you,” Mr. Law muttered with more force. “If your eyes worked properly, Miss Arnoult, I don’t see how you’d need our help at all.”

I shook my head in immediate denial. “Not so, sir. I promise you, I would still need all the help I could get. As you’ll see shortly.”

Nozomi grabbed my hand and made the knuckles knock on wood. “Don’t jinx us!”

“Absolutely nothing about this case has gone even remotely to plan except getting on the train to come here. And even that had hiccups,” I pointed out.

Nozomi growled out something in Japanese not fit for polite company.

See? Even she couldn’t argue.

Eleven

Mr. Law proved his weight in gold very quickly. Once I fully explained what I had in hand and who I needed to speak with, he knew precisely where to go. He took me and Arthur there the next morning, insisting that three people was one too many as it was. I had to trust his knowledge of the area and the Navajo customs, as I wasn’t familiar with any of them.

Arthur took over the wheel, Mr. Law in the passenger side acting as navigator as we drove north. It wasn’t far, fortunately, eight miles up the road—and on an actual road instead of a gaming trail passing itself off as one. A great deal of dust kicked up from the truck’s tires, floating in through the open windows. This desert land had no real sense of moisture. I was grateful for the shade of the truck, as the heat coming off the land was intense enough to feel even by reflection.

Mr. Law sat sideways in the passenger seat so he could address both of us.

“Ms. Arnoult, I’m really hoping this man will give us the right information and we won’t need to go any farther into Navajo territory. Like I said last night, he’s a medicine man and well respected. He’s also old. He moved out of his home into a safer location to avoid the conflict going on right now.”

“You mentioned trouble going on up there, but what precisely?” Arthur asked.

“Bunch of nonsense is what it is. Recently, the government extended Navajo land down into Chaco Canyon. Now, doing that, they immediately butted heads with every rancher who has land in there. They didn’t even think to relocate people or buy them out or anything. Just declared it Indian territory now. The government representative, he’s a real piece of work, that one. He’s just stirring the pot, near as I can figure, trying to convince folks to build a fence, cutting off new territory lines. He’s trying to get an Indian school built, too. No one wants either, but still, he’s pushing for them.”

I growled in aggravation. I hated politics. They turned a perfectly nice area into a hotbed of trouble. I could now see why Mr. Law was so hesitant to go farther in. Tensions were running high enough that we might well be shot on sight just by existing. “Warning taken. Well, hopefully your medicine man will have the answer I need.”

Mr. Law gave me a nod. “Yes, miss.”

Yah-ta-hey wasn’t much to boast about. Arthur described it to me as we drove in. The town had a few houses, a trading center, and not much more. I wasn’t sure how it had been founded as a town at all, considering what little was here. It drew my curiosity, so I asked, “Does the town’s name have a meaning?”

“It does, miss. People named it that thinking it was a Navajo greeting.” Mr. Law snorted in dry amusement. “It actually means ‘like a devil.’”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, told me everything I needed to know about this place.

“Take a left up here,” Mr. Law directed. “It’s that third house, a little farther toward the hills.”

Arthur followed those directions and the road turned rougher, as if a washout had happened recently. I didn’t see how anything but a well-sprung wagon could get through here without throwing off a passenger. Bless Nozomi’s modifications on the truck, otherwise my head would be bouncing off the roof right about now.

We pulled up in front of a modest house. I could smell something green and growing—likely that blur in the side yard was a house garden—a rare scent in this desert land, and I could hear the chickens as they pecked at the hard ground. I stepped out, grateful for my tinted glasses. The sun was brutally hot and would have pierced my eyes without that protection.

Mr. Law let himself out of the truck and went ahead, calling out a greeting in a singsong language I couldn’t begin to understand. As he greeted the owner of the house, I put a hand on the box containing the mask, not sure if I should draw it out yet or not.

The door opened and a man stepped out. He seemed ancient as the hills with the way his back stooped over, his hair white against his dark shirt, a bright splotch of red wrapped around his forehead to keep his hair semi-contained, although it flowed easily down to his waist.

He greeted Mr. Law cordially in the same language, then paused with his head cocked, listening as Mr. Law explained why we were here. Or so I assumed. They kept speaking in the same singsong language.

Finally, the medicine man gave a nod, then turned and looked at me directly. He switched to English, with only the barest accent to be heard in his words. “Young miss, come inside. Show me this thing.”

“Thank you. I’ll be glad to.” I breathed out a subtle sigh of relief and grabbed the box. It was much lighter than previous versions, so I could manage it. I thought that, at least, until Arthur took it right out of my hands.

It’s like people don’t trust me or something.

Mr. Law kept a hand at my elbow, guiding me over the ground, ready to catch me if I tripped over something.

The interior of the house was much dimmer, not to mention cooler. The walls were thick and not made of wood. Stucco? I had to assume, by the scent and feel of the air inside the house. I gathered the impression of a wooden table with a great many things on it. The entire house smelled of drying herbs and something cooking slowly over the fire in the corner fireplace. It was rather an interesting mix between kitchen and apothecary.

Medicine man, indeed.

He cleared the table and gestured for Arthur to put the box there, so he did. Only then did the medicine man stop and look at me.

“I am Sani Stalkingshadow,” he said. “I am the Hatáli of the Dine.”

“Arwen Arnoult,” I returned with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you, for that matter, for agreeing to look this over. I really don’t know what it is or who to ask. This is my friend, Arthur Griggs.”

The two men shook hands, taking measure of each other.

“First.” Mr. Stalkingshadow looked me over once more, gesturing to the glasses still on my nose. “Please remove those. I need to see your eyes.”

There was something about this man, something that let me see him more clearly than most people. His energy was stronger, more vibrant, and I sensed that in some way he might be like me. His energy was not like a magician’s, at least. There was a subtle difference, particularly around his eyes. My guess was he was able to see things most people could not. I didn’t hesitate, but I did move slowly as I removed my glasses, letting them fall to my side.

Mr. Law sucked in a breath, startled. I didn’t blame him for the reaction. Most did, when they first saw my eyes.

Most people with vision issues don’t have anything unique in appearance. Their eyes look normal enough on the surface. Mine might well have done the same if my magical vision hadn’t kicked in and decided to do something quirky. My irises were pure white, blending in with the rest of my eye. Only my pupils still retained color, remaining black. It was unnerving, or so I’d been told.

The Hatáli didn’t think so. He gave a sound of satisfaction. “I thought so. You have the sight.”

“You do too.” I looked him over with renewed curiosity. “You are very vibrant, your sight much like mine.”

“Yes. It is why I am Hatáli. If you had been born in my tribe, I would have trained you. You don’t see the world quite as I do, but you do see more than most men. That is why you are a catalyst.”

“I’m…sorry? I’m a what?”

“A catalyst. I can see it in your lines. You will bring change. You have already started to turn the winds so they blow in a way they’ve never done before.”

I didn’t understand what he was saying. I felt that the words were important, I just didn’t know what to make of them. A catalyst for change? How? Did he mean in society? I did try to be an example of that, but I didn’t see how I was making much progress, either. I was just one person trying to keep artifacts from destroying things like buildings. I didn’t see how that would impact the world as a whole.

He gave another deep sound in his throat, satisfied with his own words. “This is good.”

Good for him, maybe. I was still utterly at sea. I wanted to demand clarification, but I had the feeling he wouldn’t say more than this. I’d have to somehow trick him into a better explanation.

He pointed to the problem child. “Now, show me what is in the box.”

Arthur obligingly undid the knots on the rope. As he worked, I warned Sani, “You might hear a song. Steel your mind against it, otherwise it will convince you to don it.”

“I am warned,” he assured me.

Arthur removed the lid and leaned it against the table’s leg. I shifted to lift the top layer of paper out of the box, unwrapped the talismans, and then stepped back.

“I have lead-lined gloves if you want to pull it out and look it over,” I offered. “I haven’t dared to handle it barehanded.”

“Wise of you,” Sani agreed, his voice dropping an octave. He sounded troubled. “This is not of my people.”

“No, it’s older,” I said. “I didn’t think it belonged to any Indian tribe. I came to you to see if you had any idea what it was.”

“It belonged to the Old Ones. The Ones Here Before.”

I could practically hear the capital letters. “I don’t suppose they have a name?”

“Hmm, many people call them different things.” He still peered over the edge of the box, staring but not trying to lift the mask free or get a better look. “Every tribe seems to have their own name for them. The white man calls them the Anasazi.”

Arthur pulled out his notebook from his breast pocket and made a note. “You know of them, then?”

“I know some. We have histories of them. I will tell you what I can, but let’s put the paper and top back on first. This is not something we should leave exposed.”

I agreed with him on that. Just this long made me antsy and anxious. The song of the mask was already growing, sounding particularly seductive, like a man trying to lure a woman into a dark corner of a garden.

Mr. Law took a hesitant step forward, a hand lifted. “Is that…the mask?”

Sani swore and immediately turned, snatching up something and throwing it sharply over the mask. Even in my haste to stop Mr. Law from moving forward, I noted the energy of Sani’s choice: purple fluorite. Perfect. It would protect us splendidly as it thwarted energy from affecting people. With Mr. Law stopped, I was quick to replace the talismans, put the paper back on top, tucking it in snugly along the sides, and Arthur replaced the top, using the ropes to tie the lid back on tightly. I made a mental note to myself that I really must make Mr. Law a charm before we continued any farther. It was my oversight not to give him one.

He let out a shuddering breath, sounding both bewildered and panicked. “What was that? I know you said the mask would sing, but miss, I never heard a song like that one.”

“No, I know you haven’t.” I turned to check on him, pulling out my wand to dispel any energy around him. I caught a few wafts near his heart and head, the black tourmaline in my wand giving them a quick death. “Better?”

“Yes, miss. Thank you. I… That there’s powerful. No wonder you’re so cautious with it.”

He was steadier now, but still a little spooked. I didn’t blame him for the reaction. The mask spooked me on a regular basis.

When it was secure again, Sani gestured us toward the chairs around the hearth fire. I took a seat, anxious to hear what else he’d have to say about this.

“I don’t know what the mask was used for,” Sani finally said, after sitting there for a good minute just thinking. “It might have been used in ceremonies, but I don’t know enough of their religious practices to tell you for sure.”

If his eyes worked like mine, then he could no doubt see the mask’s makeup. I believed him when he said that. “Tell me more of the Anasazi.”

“They were a powerful people, a very large clan that existed here before my tribe ever migrated to this area. We were in constant conflict with them from the beginning. There weren’t many resources here, and as the years progressed, it got worse. Water dried out. Game became scarce. Crops sometimes failed. It was hard to survive in this land, and we kept migrating, looking for water and game. The Old Ones were no different, in the same fight for survival, but their people numbered more than ours. It grew harder to feed everyone.”

I nodded, following. I could see why trying to live in this desert land would be so hard. Why anyone would stop here and try to build a home was something I didn’t get, but that wasn’t the point of this history.

“It led to many territorial disputes. Finally, we reached something of an agreement with each other. Chaco Canyon became the area where we would meet for trade and discussion. It was neutral ground.”

“Wait, the area that was just designated as your people’s territory by the government?”

Sani gave a humorless laugh. “Ironic, I know. But you see, the Old Ones are no longer here. They disappeared overnight many, many years ago. No one knows where they went or how they managed to move that many people in a single day.”

I blinked, not expecting this twist. “When you say overnight, you literally mean in a single night?”

“So the stories say. I believe it, as every tribe says the same.”

If that many people maintained the fact, then it was likely correct. Legends loved to mix up details like that.

“What else can you tell us about them?” Arthur urged. “Anything?”

“Some say the reason the Old Ones were suddenly gone was that they were swallowed up by the earth herself. They were too greedy when reaching for power and she punished them for it.” Sani shrugged as if not agreeing or disagreeing with this. “Some say they simply used their power to move quickly, to leave this area with all of its trouble. I cannot say either way.”

Okay, this made sense up to a point. “What power?”

“The power of the mask didn’t tell you?” Sani gestured toward the box still sitting on the table. “The Old Ones could sing to the stones, and the stones would move.”

I went perfectly still. Sing…to stones.

Sing.

Every time the mask made stones move, it had been accompanied by that melodic hum, like a melody I couldn’t quite pinpoint or duplicate. That hadn’t been an aftereffect but the actual source of the stones moving?! I’d heard different types of songs from it, I think, but really I had no clear memory of the songs after they left my head. I hadn’t questioned that part much. Apparently, I should have.

I had no idea what my expression was just then, but it must have told Sani something. His tone sharpened. “You’ve seen the effects of it singing?”

“Only once but, yes,” I managed faintly. “It’s moved the stones in a building. I heard it sing then, I just didn’t make the connection. Holy…I can’t think of a swear word strong enough.”

His tone sharpened. “Do not duplicate that song.”

I held up both hands. “I can’t even begin to. Nor do I want to. Don’t worry, that’s not tempting. It just makes sense of things I’ve seen that mask do. Hatáli, I must ask; you say Chaco Canyon was neutral territory? All of it?”

“The mouth of it,” he corrected. “The Old Ones had towns and homes farther inside.”

“So could this mask have feasibly come from there?”

“It’s quite possible. There is a rancher inside Chaco Canyon named Wetherill. He has found many sites of where the Old Ones once lived. He’s called me in a few times to consult on artifacts they’ve found, verifying that they don’t belong to the Dine. He would know more than I where the mask was dug up.”

I wouldn’t bet on that, considering this had been bought off the black market with the wrong country and culture attached, but it did give me someone else to ask. Also a possible destination, which made me happy. I couldn’t wait to get rid of the mask.

Sani pointed a stern finger at me. “I will not take this from you. It’s bad medicine.”

I couldn’t blame him for the reaction. “It really is. But it’s all right, sir, I won’t ask that of you. I promised to put this back in its own land and seal it there so it stops causing trouble. This is my job, not yours.”

This answer pleased him. He sat back down once more. “Good. I will help you settle it, if you need my help. My people will be affected if it’s not properly handled.”

That was extremely generous and not at all expected. I grinned at him. “Thank you so much. I might well need the help. The mask seems determined to get someone to don it, and it’s constantly breaking out of my seals.”

Sani made a noise of alarm. “Does it sing every time it’s loose of that box?”

“Yes. It’s why I think it was used for religious ceremonies. It’s quite determined for someone to wear it.”

“I do not like the sound of this.” He made a gesture that I assumed was meant to ward off bad luck.

“It doesn’t fill any of us with joy,” Arthur assured him.

“This troubles me. Young woman, you are the only one who handles the mask directly?”

I gave him a nod. “I don’t dare let anyone else touch it. Even knowing what it’s doing, it unnerves me.”

He gave a grunt, then pushed himself up from the seat and went rummaging at the table tucked under a window. He finally assembled something into a small pouch with a string attached, then came back to me. Sani gathered up both of my hands, enclosing the leather pouch between them, then chanted:

“The mountains, I become part of it. The herbs, the fir tree, I become part of it. The morning mists, the clouds, the gathering waters, I become part of it. The wilderness, the dew drops, the pollen, I become part of it.”

I could see the gathering power that coalesced in my hands, the way he drew energy into the pouch. It was fascinating in the extreme. Just what had he put into the pouch? And how could I duplicate this?

He let go, satisfied. “This will offer spiritual protection for you. Wear it around your neck, always, until the mask is properly settled.”

I held the pouch closer to my eyes, looking it over. “Hatáli, this is a wonderful gift. Thank you so much.”

“You are doing good. I will aid you as I can.”

I really liked this man. Could I keep him?

“When you are done with the mask and it is settled, come to me and spend a time,” Sani offered. “I will teach you.”

Learn from a medicine man who knew things I didn’t? Yes, please. “I absolutely will.”

“Good. Stay for lunch. We have much to discuss.” Sani gestured toward the box again, seeming disgusted now. “It’s got bad energy. I’ll have to cleanse after you’re gone.”

“Sorry about that.” I did feel bad about it, a little. “You can imagine how much joy I get from carting it around. I’ll try to deal with it quickly, before it causes more trouble.”

“That would be best. For now, let us speak of what you know and of what else I may teach you.”

I hadn’t had a better offer than that this year. “By all means. Where should I start?”

Twelve

I went down to the inn’s dining room with Flo, and I admit I wasn’t paying much attention to my environment. Instead, I locked on to what Sani had said to me.

A catalyst?

I didn’t know what to make of that. Before I left, I’d asked him for clarification, but he’d just patted me on the shoulder and said time would reveal it, that it was clear in my lines what I was. I only sort of understood what he meant by that last part. The energy of a person could tell me something of what they did. A mage’s lines, for instance, were wildly different from a normal human’s; they had a different power threshold about them. Sani’s lines had looked similar to my own, which was why I’d recognized a kindred spirit.

I’d noticed, however, that he hadn’t called himself a catalyst. So it wasn’t my ability alone that made him say that. The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. A Hatáli wasn’t meant to predict the future, right? It wasn’t like he was prophesying to me. Something about me made him see potential, though. I just wish I knew what.

In my line of work, I often came across very strange things I had no ready explanation for. This might be one of those times where I’d have to lay it aside and focus on the here and now. Goodness knows I had more than enough on my plate already.

Everyone else caught up with us in short order, and we ordered food to be served. We sat down after dinner that night with a map to come up with a plan. I listened carefully to Mr. Law as he explained the area to us in his slow, careful drawl.

“Only one real road to get up to Chaco Canyon,” he told us, finger tracing some route on the map. “It’s just shy of a hundred miles, so this won’t be a quick trip.”

No, that was about two days in the truck. I tucked away that thought for consideration.

“For the most part, the land between here and there is peaceful. Dry, virtually no water anywhere, but it’s a well-traveled route, so not much trouble to be found. What will cause us trouble is when we get close to Chaco Canyon.”

“That’s quite the face you’re making, Mr. Law,” Flo observed. “Is it really that troublesome up there?”

“It’s like this, Ms. McGrath. This place is lawless in the worst way. What rules is the person who owns the land. Where we’re going, Wetherill owns most of the land.” Mr. Law scratched at his head, making an unhappy sound. “I’ve never met the man, but some say he’s the devil. Some say he’s the best man they know. Bit contradictory.”

To say the least. It could be he was generous to the ones he liked and ruthless to everyone else. I’ve known many a person who was two-faced like that.

“What I do know as fact is that Wetherill owns almost every trading post in this area.” Mr. Law gestured in a circular motion, indicating the land in general. “He runs off credit most of the time. The Navajo owe him thousands, so there’s a lot of bad blood between them and Wetherill. He’s not one to be lenient with a debt.”

Oh. Oh dear. Men were known to do really stupid, dangerous things when money got involved. That was a great sum of money, too. How had they managed to get themselves into such a deep debt?

“The trouble is, you don’t know where the trouble is.” Mr. Law sat back in his chair, tapping a finger against the table in an unhappy rhythm. “Fights flare up in a matter of hours and are settled almost as quickly. I saw a shootout a few months back—the fight started that morning, was settled by evening. Three days later, it was as peaceful through there as any other area. There’s just no predicting where the flareups will happen.”

I frowned, not liking this idea. “So we must be on our guard as soon as we enter Chaco Canyon.”

“About the size of it, miss.” Mr. Law made that unhappy rumble again. “I think best bet is I start out about two hours ahead of you. I’ll scout the area, leave signs for where to go. If I see trouble, I’ll double back and steer you around it.”

It’s what I’d hired him for, after all—to scout for me. “It’s a sensible approach, Mr. Law. We’ll do that. What time should we head out?”

“I’ll leave at daybreak. If you can be on the road no later than eight-thirty, it’ll be about right.”

Daybreak was roughly six-thirty in the morning, giving him a two-hour head start. Really, even eight in the morning was a leisurely approach for us. I agreed without a qualm. “We can do that.”

Mr. Law turned to Arthur and asked, “Army man that you were, you know how to read a scout’s signs?”

“I do, but run me through which signs you like to use,” Arthur replied. “I don’t want to be confused on the road.”

“Sure, sure.”

Dr. Warwick scooted in closer with a scrape of his chair on the wooden floor. “Teach me, too, if you don’t mind.”

“The more the merrier, Doctor.”

The rest of this conversation would be right over my head, as I couldn’t see the signs and didn’t have the training to understand them. I chose to shift to the other side of the table so I could talk with Nozomi and Flo without interrupting the men.

“I’m now concerned about how much water we have in the truck,” Flo told me. “If there’s absolutely none to be found between here and there except at a trading post, it might be better to put more barrels in.”

“Weight,” Nozomi said in that warning tone she always used. “My lightening spells can only do so much. We’re teetering on the verge of overloading the truck as it is.”

“If I could only come up with a spell to make things weightless,” I said dreamily, my mind in a fantasy land. “Wouldn’t our lives be so much easier?”

“Yes,” Nozomi agreed in a drawl. “Do get on that, would you? Rather than water, I’m more concerned about fuel. I didn’t anticipate that Chaco Canyon would be a hundred-mile trip.”

It was a concern. I wasn’t in a financial bind; we could always stop and buy fuel. The problem was there wasn’t much of anything between here and there, so we had to have enough fuel to reach our destination. There was also the concern of if the area was safe enough to do that in. “It’s hard to plan for this. After I speak with Mr. Wetherill, we might have to head farther into Chaco Canyon. In fact, that’s very probable. We can no doubt gain more fuel from him, but…”

“But how far will we need to go in? What if he won’t let you do what you need to?” Flo shook her head. “This man sounds like he is powerful in this area, and he’s invested in the people the mask came from. If you show it to him, he might well want to keep it.”

It was a valid concern. I’d been consumed with that very thought ever since I’d left the Hatáli’s house. “I obviously can’t let him keep it. On the other hand, I don’t have many options but to show it to him. I need to know where it came from.”

Flo made a noise that could be taken as either agreement or disagreement. “My other concern is that you might not be able to put this back exactly where it came from. Think about it. If this was robbed once from an area, then it’s not secure. I know you mean to put protections around it to keep it in place, but if the area is under this kind of unrest, will anything you do work long term?”

I groaned, vexed beyond belief. I couldn’t discount her words. “I don’t know. Frankly, this is the first time I’ve encountered this problem. Normally, I can replace the artifact in an area that’s not well traveled. It’s peaceful, so there’s no issue with my plan. I don’t know what to do here. Will it be enough to just find Anasazi land and put it there? Do I need to put it back in its exact resting spot? Your guess is as good as mine at this point.”

Flo went with the practical question. “Plan B is to find some other spot and try it, though?”

“I don’t know what else to do. If we can find a sacred spot of the Anasazi, then the mask might well be content there. Surely there’s an area somewhere that isn’t embroiled in an ongoing battlefield.”

Nozomi objected, “That’s a mighty big if, Arwen. We need to make a contingency plan. If we do have to leave quickly from Wetherill’s house and go farther into the canyon to find some other, quiet place to put the mask, then we can’t assume we can buy more fuel from him.”

Unfortunately, she was correct. “How much more can we carry?”

“You’re going by that measurement? Tax the engine to the weight limit?”

“I don’t know what else to do, do you?”

Nozomi sighed. The noise made me think she was swearing on some level. “I think we can put another ten gallons in barrels along the side of the bed. That’ll buy us some distance.”

It would. Whether it would be enough or not, that was a question.

“Can’t we retreat out of Chaco Canyon and fuel up before going back in?” Flo asked uncertainly.

“I hope so, certainly. But if our retreat is cut off, going farther in might be our only option.” I gave her a wry smile. “How is it that the logistics are sometimes harder than the actual problem?”

“It’s a question for the ages, all right.”

Nozomi rose from the table, the chair legs scraping a bit on the wood floor. “I’ll pop next door to the mercantile store, put an order in for more kerosene. They’ll have it ready for us that way.”

“You have enough on you to pay for it?” I asked.

“Er…probably not.”

I pulled my bag out of my lap and counted out a few bills, then displayed them for Flo. She was my method of double-checking money. “Yes?”

“That should work.”

I handed it over to Nozomi. “Receipt, as usual.”

“Hai, hai.”

Dr. Warwick seemed distracted from his lesson with Mr. Law, as he leaned toward our side of the table and pointed after her as she left. “I assume that was Japanese for ‘yes’?”

“It was.”

“She speaks it fluently, then? I’ve seen you speak a few words, for that matter.”

“I’m nowhere near fluent. Conversational, at best. I learned most of it from her. She learned it from her mother, then the rest of the Japanese community after her mother died, keeping up with it.”

“Did you learn it for her?”

“I find language fascinating. Always have. I liked speaking it with her as children just because it felt like we were speaking our own secret language, one most adults weren’t privy to.” I still felt that way some days. Japanese was so uncommon in most parts of the United States that I could have full conversations with Nozomi without anyone around us the wiser of the subject. It was fun for that reason.

“I wonder if she’d teach me,” Dr. Warwick asked in an almost rhetorical tone.

I found this a curious question. “Why would you learn?”

“I find it best to learn at least the greetings in every language I can. You never know when it’ll come in handy.”

Dr. Warwick never ceased to impress me. “She’ll be delighted to teach you.”

I turned to Mr. Law, intending to ask him for his opinion of the best path out of Chaco Canyon in case we had to exit in a hurry, but I barely had the chance to open my mouth. He left his seat so quickly, the chair nearly toppled to the ground. Despite the crowded conditions of the dining room, he was across it and near the front door in seconds. We weren’t too far from the door, but still, I didn’t know a man could move that quickly.

I was both curious and alarmed. What was going on? Standing, I tried to get a visual of what was happening. I couldn’t see much of anything—too many people were in the way. “Flo, what’s happening?”

“It looks like two men are hovering over a woman—” Flo started, the words tumbling over themselves.

Nozomi’s voice rose over the other conversations in the room, lifted in outrage. “Kuso! Let go of me, I’m not a whore—”

I didn’t catch the response. I heard the slap of flesh on flesh, knew Nozomi was fighting the men off, and growled in vexation. This again? Some men thought any woman who wasn’t Caucasian was fair game for their pleasure. Nozomi had trouble with this, and it’s why I generally kept her close to me.

Arthur was moving before she could get all the words out, heading that way too.

He barely got three strides in when Mr. Law arrived on scene. Without any mercy, he punched the nearest man, which threw him back, where he landed with considerable force against the wall. Mr. Law turned to the other man and punched him as well, snapping the man’s head back with the force of the blow. He fell like a dropped sack. Even from here, it sounded like bones breaking, that’s how forceful the strikes were.

The men were down before they even knew what hit them. Well. Mr. Law was a force to be reckoned with.

Arthur was quick to join him, taking Nozomi under the shelter of his arm and escorting her to the table. Mr. Law lingered a moment longer, saying something to the men in a stern tone of voice. I caught the tone, even though I couldn’t hear the words. It sounded like a death threat.

It probably was, for that matter.

Nozomi joined us at the table, heaving out an aggravated breath. “How is this place worse than Chicago? I thought Chicago was bad with the way the mobs ran it, but I could at least go shopping in the city without running into trouble.”

Truly, it was a question. When Mr. Law described New Mexico as lawless, he hadn’t been joking.

Mr. Law came back to the table with the satisfied air of a man who had won. He stopped at Nozomi’s side and asked with concern, “Ms. Banks, are you all right?”

“Thanks to you, sir. They were ignoring me as I fought them off, like I was playing hard to get.” Nozomi shook her head in disgust. “Why men think women mean yes when we say no is beyond me. No is no.”

“Precisely so, Ms. Banks.” Mr. Law jerked a thumb to indicate the two behind him. “I made it clear with them that if they come near any of you ladies again, I’ll take it most unkindly. I’m tempted to shoot them anyway.”

It might not be kind of me, but I really felt that shooting them would be doing society a favor. I let Mr. Law’s judgement stand, however, as he knew this society better than I. He’d know what level of force was appropriate. I smiled at the man, satisfied with his actions. When I’d told him to protect Nozomi and Flo as he would me, he’d held to that standard without question. A good man, this one.

“Please don’t move without a male escort for as long as we’re in New Mexico,” Mr. Law requested of us. “This place doesn’t understand how to be civil with women.”

“Warning taken,” Flo assured him. “We’ll be more cautious in the future.”

“Was there something you wanted to do, Ms. Banks?” Mr. Law asked.

“I need to go next door to the mercantile store and buy more kerosene for the truck.”

“Ah. I’ll escort you over.”

“Thank you.”

Mr. Law held out an elbow to her, and Nozomi took it, allowing him to lead her out.

When they were out of earshot, I told Arthur, “You really did well hiring him.”

“I did.” Arthur sounded very pleased with himself. “I know a cowboy’s standard is that whatever the boss says is law, but I do believe he’s taken it past the letter of the law. Do you know, I think this is the first man I’ve trusted to escort Nozomi?”

Which said a great deal. Arthur was even more cautious with Nozomi’s safety than I.

With the way things were in Gallup, though, it did beg the question: Was it safer in this town or in volatile Chaco Canyon?

Thirteen

Mr. Law left at daybreak, as planned, but we were all up at about the same time. We had the truck to finish loading, and we ate a hasty breakfast at the hotel to save ourselves from stopping on the road. There were sandwiches packed for lunch, stashed in a basket in the passenger car.

Arthur drove the truck, with Nozomi and Flo riding passenger in the front, leaving myself and Dr. Warwick in the backseat. Quite frankly, I was glad to leave the city of Gallup behind us. All the mining in this area made the air taste and feel dirty.

We drove in silence for a while, as none of us were particularly lively at this early hour of the morning. I regretted my single cup of coffee immensely. I truly wished I’d downed a second, as my eyes felt gritty.

“Ms. Arnoult?”

I turned to look at the professor. “Yes?”

“I overheard you say something to Mr. Law last night in passing, and I feel like I need clarification. Why are your eyes white?”

I smiled to show that I didn’t take any offense. Explaining my eyes always went over better if someone could clearly see them. I took my glasses off, letting them lay in my lap, then looked up again to face him. I couldn’t really see his expression, but the startled breath told me his reaction.

“In truth, I’m not sure why my eyes look like this. Every mage or doctor I’ve visited had their own theory, although none agreed with each other, so I’m not sure what to believe. They’ve just always been like this.”

“From birth?”

“That’s what I’m told. The one point everyone agrees on is that my magical sight was what turned my irises colorless.”

“Remarkable. Truly, I’ve never heard of the like.”

“Interestingly enough, the medicine man I met yesterday has very similar vision.”

Dr. Warwick made an intrigued noise. “Truly?”

“Oh yes. He and I talked about it, how if I had been born into his tribe, I would have become his student. Actually, I still might—he’s offered to train me in his ways after this case is done. I’ve taken the offer.”

“Do you normally do that? Learn from people? I still don’t quite know how you’ve learned your trade.”

Come to think of it, we’d not really told him much of our early days. Since we’d be in this truck for at least two days, it was as good of a way to pass the time as any. “I always have.”

“I know you studied with a Shinto priest, but who else?”

We fell to talking about magick and magical theory, mostly me giving an impromptu lecture and him taking notes in a journal he had on hand. Dr. Warwick was quite the intellectual. There was nothing that did not fascinate him. I didn’t mind explaining what I knew, not to such a ready audience, and it passed the time quite admirably.

Eventually, Arthur slowed a little and then poked his head out of the window. “Ah, we have a sign. Take this left turn, it says.”

I was so glad Arthur knew how to read a scout’s signs. I’d rather be sunburnt and covered in mosquito bites, trying to figure out how to stomp a copperhead with a pillow case, than learn how to navigate in this country where everything looked like a brown blur.

We turned left, and the topic turned to other things. We chatted about nothing in particular for most of the day, only stopping for food or to stretch our legs. The sun gradually set past the mountains, taking illumination and heat with it. I was glad for the latter, not for the former.

Anyone with night blindness could tell you that being outside, in the middle of nowhere with no illumination, was a nightmare. Campfires and lanterns helped, of course, but it only gave me a small pool of available sight. To my normal vision, it was blackness, nothing else. If I took even a step outside of that pool of light, I may as well be in an abyss. With my magical vision, I could orient myself somewhat. The inert power of the land was subtle in its lines, and of course without any vegetation, I could see my team clearly as they moved about. Still, it left many a potential pitfall for me outside of the campfire’s radius.

I hated camping outdoors with a passion.

It was, unfortunately, a necessary evil in my career. I found myself in this position far too often.

Mr. Law stood off the side of the road, waving to us as Arthur slowed the truck. He came up to the passenger window to speak to us, sounding a touch tired, but he had been in the saddle all day.

“Seems pretty quiet around here. Found a good spot to camp just off the road, if you’ll follow me.”

“Lead the way,” Arthur encouraged.

When I say we ‘left the road,’ I do so with considerable sarcasm. Frankly speaking, I couldn’t tell the difference. It was still hard-packed earth under the tires, much as the road had been. The sole defining line was that there was the occasional vegetation off road. If dried-up tumbleweeds and what passed as cacti in this area counted as vegetation.

The camping spot Mr. Law led us to was indeed passable. It was flat, for the most part, allowing us to pitch tents easily. The spot didn’t sit far from the road but was around the curve of a jutting hill, keeping us out of ready sight of it. A preferable thing in this land of trouble. Boulders sitting jagged and upright near the base of the hill also promised some fashion of privacy when nature called. Quite acceptable, really. As expected of a man with his experience.

It was a relief to leave the truck and stretch, feeling blood flow again in my legs. After three years, we all had our designated camp duties. Flo made dinner, Arthur unpacked the necessities for the night, and Nozomi and I pitched tents. It was a very efficient system.

Arthur gave direction for the men who had joined us. “Mr. Law, any chance of something we can use as fuel for a campfire? I do have things in the truck if that’s not the case.”

“I gathered up some things while waiting on you.”

“Excellent, if you and Arwen get the fire started, then? Dr. Warwick, I’ve got four lanterns here that all need to be lit.”

After my explanation in the truck, Dr. Warwick was well aware the lanterns were mostly for my sake. He was quick to move. “Of course, I’ll handle those.”

Mr. Law stacked firewood for me, and I did a quick snap with both cuffs to throw a spark of flame toward it. The fire lit beautifully without a second attempt on my part, although it did make Mr. Law jump a little. Hadn’t expected that, eh?

With our usual efficiency, Nozomi and I had the first tent up within ten minutes. Dr. Warwick helped us hammer the main pole into the ground, then readily did it again for the second pole. As I stretched canvas over them, Mr. Law came to stand near me, a lantern in his hand.

“Miss Arnoult, them boulders over there seem a good privy. I’ll put a lantern there to help you navigate to them.”

We were very quickly losing light—it was practically gone already—so I appreciated the suggestion. I gave him a smile and nod. “Please do, thank you.”

“Arwen, got the rope?” Nozomi called from the other side of the tent.

“It’s taut and staked. Pull!” I encouraged.

There, second tent was up. It would be tight with three people in each tent, but doable. Also preferable over being exposed to this cold night air. The desert could be incredibly cold at night, as I’ve discovered. Mr. Law might not choose to sleep in the tent, however. Most survivalists didn’t as they preferred clear sightlines.

Flo asked uncertainly, “Is that dust I see kicking up? Oh, there’s riders heading our direction.”

Riders? At this time of the night? I turned to look but could barely discern anything. If not for the campfire at my back, I wouldn’t have been able to see the tent.

“That does not look good,” Arthur said, voice grim. “They’re not coming from the road.”

Oh. Oh no. People who rode cross-country at this time of night were rarely up to anything good. It meant they were looking for someone to ambush. Or so said my experience.

Mr. Law abruptly sprinted back toward us, I could hear his heavy tread as he returned to the campfire. He yelled as he came, “Take cover! That’s bandits!”

I slapped my wrists together, starting a fire that I balanced in both palms. Perhaps this wasn’t the right way to look at it, but after a long day in the truck, I wouldn’t mind a fight to get the blood pumping. I’d been all set to go to bed, but if they were stupid enough to bring the fight to me, well then... A little exercise before bed always made me sleep better.

“Arwen!” Arthur snapped at me in alarm. “Take cover, they’ve got rifles!”

Argh, seriously? Firearms gave me trouble and, especially in this lighting, I didn’t stand much of a prayer. I let the fire die out and grudgingly headed for the narrow space under the truck, which was probably the better place to be.

The bandits weren’t kind enough to get off their horses and come in to fight, of course. They were safer running around the camp, and they knew it. Flo was under the truck with us, behind one of the wheels, shooting what she could. Nozomi had been going for her golems when the first bullets flew, forcing her down here with me. We’d both rather be up and fighting, but no one was stupid enough to just stand out in the open while bullets were going every which way. The night blindness was also crippling me in the worst ways. If they would just come into the firelight, I would stand a much better chance of fighting back.

I huddled next to my friend, our hips and shoulders pressed together, and felt my frustration rising. I kept hearing the report of guns going off and knew things were happening, but it was all mixed in with shouting and horses stamping and sounds I couldn’t begin to decipher.

“Mi-chan, narrate,” I complained. “I can’t see anything!”

“That’s because the bandits are inconsiderate about coming into the firelight for you,” she said, voice as dry as the desert around us.

I matched her tone. “Very inconsiderate of them, I agree. Are we winning?”

“I don’t think anyone’s managed an actual hit yet— Oh, take that back, one of the bandits went down.”

I did hear the accompanying cry of pain and thud as something heavy hit the earth.

“Oh dear, I think that’s Mr. Law back to back with Arthur behind the boulder, there. That seems a bad spot, why would they—oh. Never mind, they’re making full use of that angle to hit anyone who comes around from either side.”

“I didn’t expect those two to choose a bad position.” Both of them were experienced fighters, after all. If anyone could choose their ground, it would be them.

I lost what Nozomi said next as I felt something heavy get on the truck above us, the weight of it rocking the vehicle just a touch. I twisted my head around to angle my ear more that direction, trying to discern what it was I’d just heard. Was that a dragging noise? Like a box sliding against a metal floor.

That was not a good sound.

“Mi-chan.” I was already moving, army-crawling my way out from underneath the truck. “I think someone is in the truck bed.”

Her voice was aggravated. “I think you’re right. I’ll watch your back.”

“Doumo.” If she saw danger coming, she’d either try to handle it or push me down so a bullet didn’t hit.

Not that many people tried to shoot me when I did this.

I scrambled out from underneath the truck, yanking at my culottes as I moved so they didn’t get caught underneath my knees, then rolled the rest of the way out and on to my feet. The trick to fights like this was to never stand still—Arthur had engraved that into my brain. I stayed moving, rasping my cuffs against each other to once again start a fire that I caught in my palms. Time to fight back.

“YOU!” I snapped at the figure in the truck bed. “OFF!”

He twisted sharply, the movement startled, but I could barely make him out in the shadows. He didn’t seem to heed me at first—not until he saw me holding fire with my bare hands, at least.

Then he swore—I shan’t repeat what—grabbed a box, and hopped off the truck bed.

“Arwen, that’s the mask!” Nozomi warned, voice going up in alarm.

Shimatta. Of all things for him to grab, why that?! It wasn’t even easily portable!

I didn’t hesitate to arc the fire between my palms, making it light and hot before firing in his direction. Black shape on a black sky as he was, I didn’t really see more than a basic figure of energy as he moved. The farther out of the light he got, the easier it was for me to see his lines, and it gave me a good indication of where to throw fire. I heard the yelp of pain as fire struck and the crack of wood as the box hit something hard, like packed dirt.

“He’s down, just past the truck wheel,” Nozomi reported rapidly.

I followed her direction and fired again, the fire almost lightning in shape and giving me a brief moment of illumination of the man lying on the ground. That brief second’s glimpse chilled me right to the bone.

The box was open. Literally split open.

I couldn’t think of a word strong enough to describe how much I did NOT want to see that.

I fired again, quickly, trying to drive the bandit away from the box. If he was that close, and the mask freed from its barrier, it was probably—

I didn’t even get a chance to finish the thought before I heard the insidious song of the mask. For once, though, it didn’t seem to be aimed at me, but the man that was taking it out of the box. I didn’t imagine that this man would have much mental fortitude against it.

“ARWEN, DOWN!” Nozomi screamed, even as her hands landed on my back.

I kissed dirt, not questioning or even trying to look up. I knew better from (admittedly painful) experience.

There was a grunt above my head, and I tilted my face up to see what was going on. Nozomi had taken one of the pry bars off the side of the truck and used it like a bat, hitting a man solidly in the ribs and throwing him back. Even from here, I could hear the crunch of bones. I’d feel sorry for the man, except he was apparently intent on sneaking up behind me.

As he rolled around on the ground in pain, trying to breathe, I scrambled back up to my feet. I’d lost control of the fire; it was nothing more than heated memory at this point.

In the ten seconds I was distracted, the thing I absolutely did not want to happen of course happened. The bandit had yanked the mask free of the box and put it on.

The mask finally had a host.

Its energy was crawling over the man’s body like webs, latching on tightly, adhering stronger than any glue in the world. The reddish-brown energy looked like tendrils out of a horror story as it crawled down his throat, invading him from the inside out, winding its way down until it latched around his heart. I’d seen demonic possessions that looked less creepy than this. I watched it with a sort of fascinated horror, my own skin crawling. I felt nauseous, truly sick to my stomach at the sight. I knew the mask was seeking a host, I just hadn’t known what it would look like once it latched on to someone, how grotesque it would be.

I really, truly wish it had stayed as an academic question.

Nozomi’s hand shook my shoulder hard. “Arwen, snap out of it! We have to get that mask off!”

“I’m not sure if we can,” I answered around a tight throat.

“Why?”

“It’s half-integrated with him already.”

“Then do something! We’ve still got too many bandits to worry about that mask doing…whatever it is it wants to do.”

I didn’t know what to do, that was the problem. Alarm and anxiety were duking it out in my stomach, twisting it in knots. This situation right here was a worst-case scenario. Something I had done everything in my power to prevent. I didn’t have a good plan for this moment because I didn’t entirely know what the mask could do. Would do.

Sadly, I was about to have my answer.

I could see the mask reaching through the man’s back and arms, sending energy right into the ground itself, actually grabbing it, like a giant hand scooping up sand.

Oh no. No, no, no, I didn’t like this game. I was not playing. I refused, utterly.

Spinning on my toes, I dove for the campfire behind me. I wanted a large fuel source I could use all at once instead of the small buildup of flame I could draw from my cuffs. Right now, I had to have power—and a lot of it—if there was any chance of surviving this fight. I ducked low to avoid any bullets that might be winging my direction, but I was too frantic to really pay the firefight much attention now. I had to stop that mask before it started upheaving the very ground under our feet.

I threw my hands into the fire, collecting as much of it as I could, letting it wrap around my skin like a trained snake. Then I darted in the opposite direction, getting the right angle so I could see the bandit. I didn’t worry about distance. I had quite the range when I did this.

My thought was not to hit the man—not yet, though it might come to that—but to interfere with the energy the mask was sending into the ground. If I could thwart that, or even stun the mask, I might come out ahead. I reshaped the fire, threw it forward, and watched it arc right into the ground at his feet.

It interrupted the mask’s hold on the earth and dissipated the energy.

But it also drew its attention straight to me. I could see the mask lift, look about, and see me. For a non-sentient object, it strangely didn’t look happy.

I wasn’t overjoyed with it, either. I would rather gargle gasoline than give two figs what an ancient mask thought of me.

“You!” I yelled, pointing a finger at it. “Get off him and back in the box!”

“Arwen, seriously?” Nozomi muttered at my side.

“It was worth a shot,” I muttered back.

The mask threw energy into the earth again, doubling its efforts. I snarled in aggravation even as I threw fire forward. It did and didn’t work—I was able to knock free the left boulder the mask lifted, and it cracked and spun away. The one on the right, however, I couldn’t interrupt. My attack was too lopsided, my left hand more forward than my right. Curses. Even as I realized my attack had half-succeeded, I also realized that the mask’s hold on the earth was firm.

And the ground was moving.

No. No, no, no, absolutely not. Alarms blared in the back of my mind even as I backed up hastily, eyeing the chunk of earth, rattled by the sheer size of it. The mask wasn’t going to throw that, was it? Why did it look that way, as if it was going to use the chunk like a blunt instrument of destruction?

Pulling the earth back sharply, the mask made a throwing motion. The chunk came at me with all the force of a boulder rolling down a steep hill.

I panicked, throwing myself down. Nozomi was already on the ground because she’s smarter than me, both of us cringing as the boulder sailed over our heads. I didn’t see what happened, but I could hear the rock hit something. The alarmed neigh of a horse told me the boulder had at least glanced it, then I heard the heavy thud of a rider falling off the saddle and to the earth.

“He’s gone crazy!” I heard a gruff voice exclaim, alarm in his tone. “How’s he even doing that?!”

“Go,” someone else urged. “This ain’t worth it, go, go!”

I scrambled up to my knees, then to my feet, Nozomi helping to haul me the rest of the way up. I tracked by ear as the remaining bandits hightailed it out of the area, running as fast as they dared in this pitch-dark landscape. Good, at least they were gone. Bandits down.

One more enemy to go.

I was near enough to the campfire that I was able to turn and call fire to me, but once I had it, I wasn’t really sure what to do with it.

In rock-paper-scissors, paper beats rock, but…what about fire?

Even red-hot flame struggled to interrupt the energy the mask could use. What could I possibly do to get that mask off the bandit? If I hit the mask dead on with lightning, hit the source itself, would that do it?

I had no time to theorize, to second guess, to test anything. I let the fire in my hands die out, then struck my cuffs against each other, charging them, shaping lightning from static air. It took precious seconds to build up a charge, seconds I might not have, and I could feel sweat running down my spine, a truly distracting sensation. I strove to ignore it, made the lightning as hot as I could stand, then threw it directly at the mask, putting as much punch into the throw as I could manage.

It never hit. The mask threw the bandit’s hands up, yanking a great quantity of earth up with the motion, and blocked the lightning—or mostly blocked it. The earth shattered in response, going a thousand directions. It certainly diffused the strike and left the host safe, though, which was not the reaction I was going for.

I swore and tried again, trying to be faster, to beat its reflexes. I channeled as quickly as I could, not worried this time about the power behind it, just throwing lightning. The mask blocked it again, readily, its reflexes as good as mine.

Why were ancient artifacts so good at fighting?! They were seriously the bane of my existence.

“Ms. Arnoult!” Dr. Warwick called from somewhere to my left. (I didn’t dare look, not even a glance, to determine where.) “What happens to him if we can’t get the mask off!”

“He dies,” I said flatly.

Dr. Warwick sounded alarmed. “Are you sure?”

I didn’t have the time to explain. Whatever the Anasazi did to prepare a man to wear the mask, this bandit didn’t have the training to manage it. The mask had wholly consumed him, every limb now under its control. I could see the mask draining the man’s life force, steadily gaining strength. Its energy pulsed in visible waves like a heartbeat—which was alarming in and of itself. I didn’t want the mask stronger. That said, the man wearing it had maybe hours to live at the rate he was going and didn’t even seem to realize it. Had the mask taken over his mind too? Was he even aware of his own body anymore? I doubted it.

“Quite sure,” I finally answered.

“Sounds like a simple answer to me,” Mr. Law drawled.

A gunshot rang out, echoing in the night air.

The energy surrounding the artifact, flowing from bandit to mask, abruptly halted and withered. The bandit collapsed face first, the way only the dead or truly unconscious fall. I blinked in surprise. Law strode toward the body, no hurry in his footsteps.

Well. I suppose a bullet would resolve the situation. I’d been so focused on getting the mask off, I hadn’t truly considered the man who wore it. I’d been trying not to kill him, as I didn’t like to kill anyone, but I found, after a moment of thought, that I couldn’t dredge up much sympathy for the bandit. He’d been trying to rob me, after all.

I did not want Mr. Law anywhere near the mask, however. I’d given him a charm but wasn’t sure if he’d kept it on him. I hurried forward, then tripped over a chunk of stone, a result of the earth being tossed about. Hopping on one foot, I grimaced at the sharp pain and swore like a stevedore.

Mr. Law let out a rumbling chuckle. “Quite the mouth on you, Miss Arwen.”

“You can thank Arthur,” I said with a grimace, teeth clenched. “I learned it at his knee.”

“Did not!” Arthur protested.

“Arwen, here.” Flo quickly joined me, taking my arm and threading it through her elbow.

“Thank you.” I moved forward more cautiously even as I called ahead, “Mr. Law, wait. I don’t want you too close to the mask.”

He stopped where he was, turning to wait on me. “I appreciate the caution, miss. I just wanted to see if it had come off him or not. It hasn’t, it’s still attached.”

“Ah. I promise you, it doesn’t have the power to animate a corpse. If it had, the Boston Museum would have called me in for an entirely different reason.”

Mr. Law let out an exaggerated breath. “Worry off my mind. Never seen the like of something like this. I wasn’t sure what to make of all you told me. Not sure if I wanted any of that confirmed.”

“That’s fair enough, sir. It’s unfortunately standard in my line of work. Don’t worry about the mask not coming off; there are ties in the back that keep it on.”

I paused Flo where she was, not wanting her closer either, and stepped in a little nearer, angling my head to look at the mask. I expected it to be a little happier since it was on its home soil and had been used.

It was not. It wasn’t actively singing, at least, but it was still trying to attach itself to the corpse. Hadn’t given up yet, eh?

I was more than aggravated—I was incensed. I threw a hot flame right at it, holding it there like a blowtorch for several seconds. Did I hope it melted right into the ground? Of course.

Did it? No. Because it was born to be a thorn in my side, clearly.

I glared at the mask, lip curling in disgust.

“Feel better?” Arthur asked me laconically.

“No. I want to smash it to smithereens. If I could figure out how to do that without jeopardizing all of us, trust me, I’d do it right this second.” Blowing out a breath, I straightened. “Mi-chan?”

Already knowing what I would say next, her tone was resigned. “I’m building you another box tonight, aren’t I?”

“Be quick, too,” I said, then glared down at the mask. “You are such a treasure, I feel the distinct need to bury you. I’d do it, too, if that wouldn’t make you happy. One way or another, mask, you are not winning. I promise you this.”

Fourteen

We fared rather well in the fight, which was always a fortunate thing. There were some superficial scrapes resulting from people scrambling for cover, and Arthur had a gash along his upper shoulder from a bullet that had nicked him, but it was light enough that it didn’t even require bandaging. A simple healing charm applied by yours truly sufficed. All in all, I was relieved we’d had no fatalities.

The same could not be said for the bandits, but I had no sympathy to spare for them.

What intrigued me were the reactions of Dr. Warwick and Mr. Law. I’d expected Dr. Warwick to be more comfortable with my fighting ability since he knew far more about how my magick worked. Rather, the reverse seemed to be true. Dr. Warwick was giving me and the area torn up by the fight a very wide berth. Mr. Law, on the other hand, sat right at my side as I patched up Arthur.

“Miss Arnoult, that what you meant earlier about keeping clear of you during a fight?” He slapped a hand on his thigh with a chuckle. “Didn’t know what in the Sam Hill you really meant by that when you first said it. I can see it now! Ha! You sure ain’t a milk-and-water miss.”

His amusement put a little glow in my chest. “Was it good entertainment, then?”

“I say it was. Haven’t seen fire thrown around like that since the circus came through town. You got good aim, too. Anyone who comes up against you is an idjut.”

“I’ll take that compliment.”

Dr. Warwick cleared his throat tentatively. “Mr. Law, I’m a little surprised you can take this so calmly.”

“Doctor, any woman worth her salt out here knows how to fight back. This ain’t kind country. Magical as she is, I expected something like this, especially after she explained what those cuffs are for. I got a ringside seat. Can’t complain.”

I bet the good doctor had never seen magick used in a fight before, so it unnerved him on some level. He’d have to sleep on it before it settled in his mind. All that said, if he stayed around me long enough, he’d better get used to it in a hurry.

As Nozomi once again cut up wood for a box, I kept a weather eye on the mask. It was back in lead foil—very much a temporary measure just to keep it quiet until I could write up more talismans. Mine had been shredded when the bandit grabbed it out of the box. Flo was cutting up more paper for me now, as I didn’t have any talisman paper left in the right size.

“Well.” Dr. Warwick cleared his throat, and there was something in his tone that made him sound a bit shocked. Like a strong blow with a feather might knock him over. “I’m not sure if I completely believe now that the mask was solely used in religious ceremonies.”

“Why?” Flo asked as she worked on the paper. I knew that tone—it was what she used when someone was about to say something very obvious or stupid. The tone of a former teacher at its finest. “Because it was flinging boulder-sized clods of dirt around like a weapon?”

“Perish me speaking the obvious, but yes, that’s why. Even a novice could put the mask on and immediately wield the earth to his command. It was both stunning and horrifying to watch. I wonder if it was always intended to be a weapon? Or if it simply functioned in that way because of the situation here?”

It was a good question. I wondered that myself. “This might be academic—we might not ever know the answer—but…I was told a few things. Now that I’ve seen the mask in action, it casts a very different light on it all.”

Dr. Warwick leaned forward, all ears. “Such as?”

“The medicine man explained to me the origin of the name Anasazi. He said that wasn’t their name, it wasn’t what they called themselves. It’s what the Navajo called them, and the name that more or less stuck. Spelled correctly, it should be A-n-a-a-s-a-z-i.”

“Oh, an extra ‘a’ in there?”

“Yes, quite so. ‘Anaa,’ meaning war, alien, enemy; and ‘sazi,’ meaning ancestor.”

“Ancient enemies, or ancestral alien enemies, or something along those lines?” Flo turned to look at us both, now more invested in the conversation. “Meaning they were in open conflict with these people when they still lived here.”

“The limited resources of this area pitted everyone against each other.” I still had no idea why anyone would actually choose to settle here, but that was a different subject to debate on a different day. “Now, another thing I was told that’s very interesting is that the power the mask wields wasn’t something the Anasazi created. There was, according to legend, a people who came before them who had a very deep understanding of spiritual power and Mother Earth. The Navajo call them Hahóosanii, or The Ones Who Started It. They are very well respected, even today. The Navajo’s religious practices stem from what they learned from the Hahóosanii.”

“You didn’t mention all of this before,” Flo complained.

“I spent literally half the day with that man. You think I can recount everything I learned from him in one conversation over dinner?” I retorted. “I didn’t see how half of what he told me was relevant. Until now, anyway. Stop interrupting, I’m trying to make a point. What the Anasazi did also stemmed from the teachings of the Hahóosanii, but according to the medicine man, it was profaned. They abused the power until the gods became angry and the Anasazi were destroyed.”

“I’m taking that last part with a grain of salt,” Dr. Warwick pitched in. “The surviving people in an area always want to make themselves look like the righteous party.”

“The point I’m trying to make is this: What if there was some measure of truth to the legend? I could see the bandit’s life force becoming twisted, sucked into the mask so wholly that he would have lived only hours if the mask had stayed on.”

Arthur made an alarmed sound as he pulled his shirt back over his shoulder. “Wait now, Arwen. That’s insane. Even if the mask was meant for war—and I could see how it would be darn effective at it, pardon my language—then a soldier would do well to survive a single battle! You’d be constantly in need of fresh troops. That wouldn’t be sustainable long term.”

I clapped lightly. “Precisely my point. The mask might well have been intended for religious or even practical reasons at first.”

“Like building,” Dr. Warwick muttered. He had a notebook on his lap—where did that even come from?—and was scribbling something. “It would be an amazing aid in building.”

Flo came around to sit next to me on the boulder. “Oh my, yes, it would be very helpful. Just leveling an area for the foundation would save a lot of time and effort.”

“Right?” I nodded. “I think it might well have been used for that purpose initially. I also don’t think—this is theory and gut feeling, I don’t have much to back this up with—but I don’t think the mask initially drained its user’s life force. With the right training, he would have been able to modulate the flow of energy so that it didn’t suck him dry.”

“That would make sense. The man buried with the mask was in ceremonial robes—he was clearly a priest. It wouldn’t make sense for him to be buried that way if he was a soldier using the mask. A priest trained to its use, though, that makes more sense.” Dr. Warwick paused his scribbling before muttering, “The way the mask threw stones around, though, it didn’t look like the first time it had seen combat.”

“Oh, it’d seen combat before.” Arthur sounded sour as he said this, like he wanted to take an axe to the mask.

“If times got desperate enough, even priests would have been called to battle,” Mr. Law said. “From what the medicine man said, times got plenty desperate.”

“This is theory. Really interesting theory, no doubt, and the kind of academic conversation I thrive on. But Miss Arnoult, I feel like you had a point to make?”

“I did. Rather, I fear something, and I want to get it out in the open now. We are, effectively, on the mask’s home territory. This used to be Anasazi land.”

Everyone nodded, making sounds of agreement.

“And yet”—I held up a finger before jabbing it toward the mask, still lying innocently on the ground—“this one has not calmed down in the slightest. I fear that simply returning it to its own land will not be the simple solution I’d hoped for. We might have to come up with a Plan B.”

Flo and Arthur both sighed in understanding.

Dr. Warwick’s pencil paused. “Does that normally happen? The artifact calms down once it’s back on its own land?”

“Yes, usually. I can almost use it like a compass in that respect. Once it stops kicking up a fuss, I know I’m close or already there. The energy of the land will start matching the artifact, which it’s been doing the closer we get to Chaco Canyon. I’ve had it verified that I’m in the right territory and yet it’s still behaving like a child denied candy.” It was tempting to smack the mask like a fussy toddler, but I resisted the urge. I didn’t want to disrupt my foil wrapping, precarious as it was.

“If it was in constant conflict with the other tribes in the area, then it might not feel safe even here,” Dr. Warwick pointed out.

“It’s not sentient, though,” I objected.

“Whether it is or not, it doesn’t equate this land with safety. It’s still on guard. And, I might point out, it was being wielded by a man not of its people. An enemy had it in hand and was wielding it against other enemies.”

Argh, good points, both of them. “I fear that we can’t just find a convenient hole somewhere to pitch this thing into and let it lay forgotten. Which was my initial plan.”

Flo sighed long and loud. “This just became complicated, didn’t it?”

I gave her a pat on the shoulder, mostly in sympathy. I had no comfort to offer; I was just as aggravated. “I fear that we’ll need to put it back in a holy spot. Whether they had temples, churches, blessed burial grounds—”

“They would have at least had burial grounds,” Dr. Warwick assured me.

“Oh, good. Then we need to find one of those and put the mask there. If it’s on sanctified ground, it will be far more at ease and won’t be nearly as belligerent.”

Mr. Law cleared his throat. “Normally, I just shoot my problems. Then my problems stop.”

I jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t tempt me.”

He let out an earthy chuckle.

What do you know, the man could tease. I liked him better for it. People who could tease were my kind of people. “For now, our plan to go and see the local Anasazi expert hasn’t changed. If Wetherill knows of a sacred spot to put the mask, then that’s where we’ll head. Otherwise, we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

“By using the mask as a compass?” Dr. Warwick didn’t sound thrilled at the possibility.

For that matter, I wasn’t overjoyed either. Had I done it before? Yes. Was I keen to do it again? I would rather bathe in acid. Still, what had to be done, had to be done. I felt like I spoke for everyone when I said we all wanted to be shed of the mask as quickly as possible, but I wouldn’t just pitch it somewhere and hope for the best. It would only come back to haunt me later if some power-hungry fool with more greed than sense stumbled across this thing.

“Well, either way, we need to set out early.” Mr. Law slapped his hands on his knees, standing. “I’ll take first watch if you’ll take second, Arthur.”

“I will.”

“Good. If you don’t mind, Doctor, help me drag them bodies over yonder.” Mr. Law gestured toward the disturbed earth.

Dr. Warwick visibly startled. “Oh, uh, yes, of course. But why there?”

“Mask made nice, big holes,” Mr. Law responded with a sardonic note in his drawl. “Might as well use ’em.”

Waste not, want not? I certainly had no intention of digging in this hard soil. It was imminently practical. Also rather poetic in an ironic way.

Dr. Warwick cleared his throat. “Mr. Law, it seems you have a rather morbid sense of humor.”

“Good of you to notice, Doctor.”

I really liked James Law. Could I keep him?

“Arwen! Your box is ready!”

“Excellent.” I hopped up, scooped up the mask, and headed her direction.

“Arwen!” Flo snapped, horrified. “You are not just handling that with your bare hands!”

“Oh, it’s fine at the moment,” I assured her. “It got its wiggles out for the evening.”

A beat. “You did not just equate this thing throwing dirt around to a child running around the park playing.”

Flo sounded ready to pitch both me and the mask into one of those holes. I hastily backtracked. “I meant to say that its energy levels are very low at the moment, and it’s not projecting any kind of music. I don’t think it’ll last more than a few more hours, but it’s sort of…recharging? Also, the amulet the Hatáli gave me is giving me an extra boost of protection. I’m ever so grateful he gave it to me. Anyway, I can handle it without gloves on at the moment.”

“Which means,” Nozomi said, waving us impatiently forward, “that we need to get the box completely done before it wakes up from its nap.”

“Not you too,” Flo grumbled, stalking past me. “I’m on paper duty, I take it.”

“Yes, please.”

Hoping to jostle her into a better mood—it was late, she was no doubt stressed and tired after a shootout and a long day of traveling—I tried joking with her. “Once we put it to bed, we can go to bed.”

“Music to my ears.”

Fifteen

I didn’t sleep easy that night. I felt too exposed out in this desert land. Even with Mr. Law and Arthur standing guard, it was hard to truly relax and let sleep take me. It made me bleary around the edges in the dawn light as I stood and surveyed the scene. It might help if the morning sun was a little stronger, just so I could see the upturned earth as well, but it wasn’t really necessary.

The energy signature alone was enough to tell a very strange story.

Dr. Warwick came to stand next to me, his notebook in one hand.

I glanced up at him, but my eyes were immediately drawn back to the torn landscape. “Tell me, Doctor, what do you see?”

“It honestly looks like a miniature tornado came through here,” he answered. “But in a strange way. If you’d told me a giant hand had reached into the earth, scooping up handfuls and throwing them around, I’d actually buy the story. They’re such jagged pieces, too, it’s obvious they were wrenched out of place. There was no finesse to this.”

I gave a hum, acknowledging what he said, taking into my mind’s eye what he’d described. I couldn’t see it as clearly as he could, not in the traditional sense. On the flip side, I could see far more. I was also glad to see he was over his nerves of last night. He was no longer acting cautious around me.

“What do you see?” He sounded poised for an answer.

I wouldn’t disappoint him with it, either, if he was looking for something shocking. “I see something very, very odd.”

“Odd?”

“There’s no simple way to describe it.” I paused, ruminating on possible descriptions and words, then blew out a breath. “I’m not sure there’s a complicated way to describe it, either, or any way so it will make any sort of sense to you.”

Dr. Warwick urged, “Try.”

I was always game to do so, if someone was willing to listen. “I didn’t see most of this last night. Something about having boulders thrown at my head tends to be distracting.”

He snorted out a laugh at my droll humor.

I shot him a wink. “Thank you for laughing at my jokes. It’s nice you have the same sense of humor. Anyway, I didn’t see half of what I should have last night, between dodging attacks and building up my own. By the time it calmed down enough for me to study anything, the connection between mask and earth was cut off. I didn’t realize a faint residue was left behind, not with my full attention on corralling the mask. I wish now I’d paid better attention. What’s left, hours later, tells a very strange tale.”

Pausing, I tried to form this into something he could relate to. “Say that you stand in front of a pond of still water. It’s so still the top is glassy, not a disturbance to be found anywhere. What happens when you drop a pebble in?”

“It ripples, of course.”

“Quite so. But even though it ripples, disturbing the surface of the pond, it’s still a natural effect, correct? Nothing about it was strange or unexpected. It’s a result of your action.”

He gave a nod but didn’t speak, letting me make my point.

I gestured to the landscape ahead of us, the disturbed, jagged soil. “On the surface, that’s what this looks like—a pebble dropped into a still pond, a ripple effect. That’s what I made of it last night, at least. But that’s not what the energy of the mask did. It—” I paused again, frustrated, trying to stick with my metaphor but not finding the right words.

“Is it really that hard to explain?”

I gave a frustrated growl. “I don’t even have words for what I’m seeing. It doesn’t even fully make sense compared to other energy signatures I’ve studied. Trying to explain this when I only have a bare grasp on the situation myself is a mental challenge, to say the least. All right, this won’t make sense to you, but it’s the closest I can come. It’s like the mask’s energy cut water.”

“Cut…?” Dr. Warwick’s head pulled back, the gesture baffled. “What do you mean?”

“I told you it wouldn’t make sense. You’re now as confused as I am. It’s unnatural and impossible to cut water, after all.”

“I mean, if it’s frozen, it’s possible, but—”

“Right, you have to alter its state to manage it. That’s not even what happened here. It’s like the mask’s energy cut into the natural energy around it, like an axe through water, and then suborned it to its own ends. The energy of the land left behind is a snarled mess.”

“Like someone cut through a weaver’s cloth…?” he ventured.

“Ooh, I like your metaphor better. You come up with them from now on. Yes, quite so. The threads are all jagged and fraying, taking the cloth apart and threatening its integrity as a whole. It has that sort of look to it.”

He snorted. “Yes, I’m sure that’s why you allowed me along for this ride. So, getting back to your water metaphor, the mask cut the water. Or really, the energy of the land around it. That would look strange, I’m sure.”

“That’s only one part of it, too.” I looked around again, frustrated with this whole situation. How had the Anasazi even done this? “It’s unnatural in the extreme. Every religion has a sort of signature to their blessings and such. They’ve got their own energy. I’m not saying this in the sense that what is here doesn’t match up with what I know, what I’ve experienced. This is just…I wish I could come up with a word better than unnatural.”

“Abnormal?”

As expected of an educated man, he was a walking thesaurus. “Even that’s not strong enough, although thank you for trying.”

Dr. Warwick tapped a finger to the journal in his hand. “You related last night that the Navajo thought the Anasazi were taken because they’d angered the gods by abusing the power of Mother Earth.”

“I can absolutely see now why they thought so. In their shoes, I would have thought the same.” I rocked back on my heels a little, looking it all over, not sure what to do or make of any of it.

“Is it dangerous?”

“You mean aside from being a tripping hazard?”

“Ha, yes, that’s what I mean.”

“I don’t…know. I don’t think so?” I frowned. I’d truly thought before taking on this mask that the ancient world couldn’t really surprise me much anymore. I wasn’t sure how to feel about being proven wrong. I certainly wasn’t happy about it. The world apparently had much more depth than I’d bargained for.

I really needed to stop making assumptions like that. It apparently tempted Lady Luck in all the wrong ways. I glared down at my mug. This coffee was not strong enough for this conversation. I needed the kind of coffee so potent that, with one sip, my ancestors woke up.

I thought about it some more, but really, I couldn’t give him any better answer. “If you’re worried about the energy left behind, then no.” I gave a shrug. “Even now, eleven hours later, it’s faded enough that I can barely see it. I would say that by noon, the energy will be gone entirely. No one stumbling around in that area would feel much of anything, and there would be no side effects. The energy isn’t meant to tangle with humans, after all.”

“I’m relieved to hear it, since I was stumbling around there last night dumping bodies into holes.”

“Oh!” I lightly slapped a palm to my forehead. “Oh dear, I’d forgotten about that entirely.”

His voice was droll in the extreme. “I thought you might have.”

“Heavens, no wonder you asked. No, I assure you, I would have realized last night if the situation was actually dangerous and prevented you and Mr. Law from coming anywhere near here. For that matter, I would have insisted on moving camp farther away. The remains of the energy are much like the remains of any battle. The danger is long past.”

“Good.”

My ever-practical friend called, “If you’re done staring at things the rest of us can’t see, come back and help us pack up! We need to get on the road.”

“Yes, darling Flo.” I sighed, already turning to heed the summons. “Coming!”

Dr. Warwick offered me an arm, and I took it, using him as a guide to get over the last of this uneven ground. Such a kind man. I felt a touch sorry that he’d been involved in a firefight last night. Surely he wasn’t experienced in dangerous situations, being the academic sort. I had warned him from the outset that this wasn’t a safe expedition, but sometimes the reality of a situation was what made the truth hit home.

“Are you okay?” I asked him. “Last night was wildly dangerous.”

“Oh, it’s not the first time I’ve been shot at, although thank you for checking on me.”

I blinked at him. “Oh, this sounds like a good story.”

“I’ll tell you when we’re on the road.”

“Please do.” Excellent, a good story always made the miles pass faster.

Flo was standing, hands on hips, next to the box with the mask in it. She pointed an authoritative finger at it. “Deal with your problem child. I can feel it trying to sing in my head.”

“Oh for the love of—!” I leveled a glare at the box. While I would dearly love to deny that it was my problem child, it was unfortunately mine to deal with, no matter how you looked at it. “You. Behave. You got your jollies last night throwing stone at me. I’m trying to take you home, how difficult is that to understand?”

Dr. Warwick let go of my arm to lean in and murmur to Flo, “Does she normally speak to inanimate objects?”

“Not the first time. Definitely won’t be the last.”

I ignored the side commentary. My mind was going through the inventory of everything on the truck, trying to think of something—anything—I could use to stifle the mask’s influence. I wasn’t coming up with anything brilliant with the items we had on hand. Unfortunately, most of it was either earth based (such as the metals) or earth-related (like the wood). None of it was helpful.

Arthur came up to join us. “What can we do to help you, Arwen?”

“I’m not sure if you can do anything. I don’t know of anything we have on hand that can mitigate this. I fear the fight last night only served to fuel the mask. Between the life force of the poor bandit, and the earth energy it absorbed during the fight, it’s much stronger now than it was twelve hours ago.”

“That’s…problematic.”

“Tell me about it.” I continued to glare at the box. “The only thing that might help is drawing up more talismans. Another four talismans might do the trick.”

“I thought we were out of paper for that,” Flo objected.

Ah, rats. I’d forgotten that. “In my defense, I haven’t had a second cup of coffee yet.”

She just chuckled. “Wake up, Arwen, we need your brain fully functional.”

I rubbed at my face with both hands, feeling gritty and tired.

Then again for good measure. “Do we not have any paper left whatsoever?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Of course we don’t. Absolutely no Bakelite at all?” I asked even though I knew the answer.

“Not enough for this, at least.”

I really had to get up to New York at some point and buy more of that. It was an absent note, something I could do nothing about. “For now, try to ignore it. It’ll be easier once we’re on the road and you don’t have line of sight with the box. We’ll buy more paper when we come across a trading post.”

“The box is lined with paper,” Nozomi pointed out. “Can’t you just draw talismans on the interior of it?”

I stared at her, my brain stuttering about like a mouse trapped in a maze. Why hadn’t I realized that? “I am officially not awake.”

Mr. Law drew up to stand with us and, bless the man, he handed me a cup of coffee. I heard a heavenly choir break out in harmony as I accepted it.

He was now my favorite. I sipped at the coffee—black, with just a touch of sugar—and hummed happily. “Sir, I need you on all of my trips from now on.”

“You’re welcome,” he deadpanned. “I intended to drink that, but I thought I should sacrifice it to a higher cause.”

“Your sacrifice is both noted and appreciated.” I gave him a quick grin.

“Miss, I have to tell you, I’m anxious to be driving around with this thing singing at us.” Mr. Law gestured toward the box. “You sure I can’t just shoot it?”

“That’s Option B, Mr. Law. Option A is we still put this back on sacred ground somewhere so it’s happy and doesn’t try to kill all of us.”

He rubbed at his jawline, the unshaved growth making a rasping sound. “All well and good, miss, but you realize we’re driving into country where people will kill for less? If the mask reaches out to them, they’ll just take it, they won’t think too hard about it.”

I stared at him, feeling absolutely done with this day already. Unfortunately, he was quite correct. We were already on land where people didn’t think anything of stealing something that wasn’t theirs. With this kind of moral decay to choose from, the mask could seduce practically anyone to pick it up.

Could I just go back to bed?

I drank more coffee, waiting for inspiration to strike. None came. It was just going to be one of those days, wasn’t it? Well, drawing the talisman seals on the interior of the box would help at least give some peace. I couldn’t control the greed of men.

“Mr. Law,” I finally said, “if you see someone approaching the mask, shoot a warning shot first. If they don’t heed it and somehow get the mask on, shoot the mask first.”

“You sure a bullet will stop it? Once someone has it on?”

“No,” I denied, glaring at the box again. “But it’ll make me feel better.”

Sixteen

Between one delay and another, we got a very late start that morning. None of us trusted this area whatsoever, and we all kept our eyes peeled out the windows, even me, looking for trouble incoming. Probably for that reason, we didn’t converse much with each other, too uneasy to fill the silence. It made for a very quiet and rather boring day.

As sunset fell, though, we seemed to have more or less reached our destination. Or at least, I assumed that because Mr. Law stood waiting off the side of the road, his horse standing half asleep behind him.

Arthur pulled the truck to a stop before sticking his head out and calling, “Are we camping here, then?”

“I’d rather not go any farther into the canyon in darkness,” Mr. Law called back. “Too easy to mistake us as unfriendly. Right now, the canyon’s a hotbed of trouble.”

“Understood. You’ve got a campsite for us, then?”

“I do, follow me down.”

Arthur kept the truck at a putter as he followed off the road—again, I couldn’t swear we’d been on a road to begin with, it all sounded the same to me—and down, along a curve of the land that took us into a shallow basin-like area.

What caught my attention was the sound of water gurgling, like a brook flowing over rocks. I turned my head, following the sound, but it wasn’t in sight until we dropped even farther, into a recessed area enclosed by steep rock faces on all sides. It was a very sheltered area and obviously used by travelers before, as there was something of a trail that led down to it. There, past the campsite area, was the clear energy of a startlingly healthy stream of water just merrily bubbling along, like it had every right to be in the middle of a desert.

I pointed to it, asking in astonishment, “Water? Of all the things I expected to see here, that was not it!”

“Makes sense they have some water here,” Dr. Warwick pointed out from the back seat. “No one would settle in this area if there was no water to be had.”

“Dr. Warwick, I have been questioning the sanity of people settling here since the moment I stepped foot in this forsaken land. Water or no water, there are far more hospitable places to live. I know. I’ve been in them.”

Arthur snorted, putting the truck into park. “Says the woman who lives in Los Angeles.”

“You’ll note, I trust, that I chose to move to the part of the city that is near the ocean and has vegetation.” I shot him a dry look.

He just chuckled and refused to rise to the bait.

I heard Flo say to Mr. Law, “Sir, you have outdone yourself. However did you find this spot?”

“Actually, I knew of it before. I’ve used it in the past. I figured if we couldn’t make it to Wetherill’s place before nightfall, we’d best settle here. It’s a good, sheltered area, and of course having water on hand makes things easier.”

“That it does. Well, who’s on dinner duty tonight?”

I stepped out of the truck and stretched my arms over my head. It felt good to be out of the vehicle, and I was grateful we had some light from the setting sun, as I could still see enough to navigate. We’d need to be quick getting a campfire started and turning the lanterns on, though. I didn’t want to be trapped in darkness and have to call for help. That was just embarrassing.

We fell to doing camp chores, Flo and Dr. Warwick cooking dinner—some kind of chili and flatbread, from the sounds of it. I got the tents up with Nozomi, put our things inside, and then took a lantern with me to the creek. I desperately wanted to wash my face and hands, get some of this fine grit off my skin. I hadn’t felt comfortable doing it with such a limited water supply in the truck, but with this much water on hand, I would indulge myself.

Someone approached and I glanced up, recognizing Arthur’s stalwart form joining me. His energy signature was a familiar one, easy to distinguish. He knelt at my side without a word, taking off his hat and splashing his face with cool mountain water with a sigh.

I echoed it. The water felt lovely after being beaten by the heat of the desert sun all day.

“As far as I can tell, the desert only has one thing that makes it better than trooping through rainforest.”

Oh, he was in fine form tonight, I could tell from that tone of his. “And what’s that, Uncle Arthur?”

“No mosquitos.”

I snorted a laugh. “You’ve got a good point there. I don’t miss the mosquitos. This heat, though, makes me feel like a sponge abandoned on a hot floor. It just sucks all the moisture right out of you.”

“It does that.” He splashed his face some more, getting a handful on the back of his neck as well.

As tempting as it was to ‘accidentally’ trip and just fall into the creek, I couldn’t do it. I made do with taking off my socks and boots and sticking my feet in instead. Ahh, bliss. That felt so good after having them trapped in hot leather all day. I completely understood why people in hot climates wore sandals.

“Arwen.”

“Hmm?”

“We need to keep James Law.”

I turned an inch, just so I could face him better. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“He’s one of the best scouts I’ve seen. The man has no fear in a firefight, and he’s very protective of you girls. I trust him completely, and that’s a rare thing these days. Turns out he’s in a very interesting situation.”

I made a noise of encouragement for him to continue. An interesting situation meant I could possibly negotiate, and I was quite keen on that.

“He’s told me that he worked at a ranch out here in Chaco Canyon for the better part of two decades. The owner of the ranch was killed in an accident, and the widow chose not to keep it. She sold it instead to a neighboring rancher, then moved back east. Law didn’t like the new owner—man’s too cutthroat to be trusted—which was why he didn’t stay on when the ranch changed owners. It’s why he was kicking about when I met him. He was in between jobs and looking for work.”

“Was there nowhere else to work?”

“Not any open positions he could find, at least. Most ranches out here are full up with employees and he didn’t want to work in the mines. Can’t blame him there.”

It was sometimes hard to find employment. I knew that from Nozomi’s struggles. “I see.”

“Now, I haven’t had much time to talk to him, but I’ve gotten snatches here and there. He’s also told me he has no family here. He never married, has no children, and his parents are long gone. There’s nothing tying him to the area except that he knows it. I think if you offer him a good wage and a place to stay when we’re off-season, he’ll snap it up.”

“Really? What we do is so unorthodox, though, and it’ll mean a great deal of travel for him.”

“I think he’ll be happy to take on the challenge. He reads a great deal; half his saddlebags are full of books. He’s an intelligent man. I’ve seen him pick Dr. Warwick’s brain a time or two.”

I didn’t actually need much convincing. I liked Mr. Law already. It was a bonus that he was an intelligent person, though. I needed not only someone good at tracking and fighting, but someone clever enough to be able to adapt to truly strange situations. If he was the type to question, to take in new facts and information, then he might well have the right mentality for this insane job. I would have taken him just because he was sassy and protective of my people, though.

“I like him too,” I assured Arthur. “I think Flo and Mi-chan also have good opinions of him. If he’ll take the position, I’ll be happy to keep him.”

“Then let me fetch him for you. We’ll talk it through with him.”

“All right.”

Arthur was quick to get up, heading back toward the campfire. It left me alone in the growing darkness for a moment, which wasn’t an entirely comfortable thing. I could hear coyotes off in the distance, the wind picking up their howls and carrying the sound toward me.

I kept my feet in the stream—I did not care how unprofessional that looked, I was tired—and waited for the men to come to me. They did a few moments later, with Mr. Law hunkering down on his haunches on my left side and Arthur resuming his spot on my right.

I gave Mr. Law a smile. “Sir, I have to tell you, you’re the best survivalist we’ve ever hired.”

“Why, thank you, miss.”

“Arthur tells me you’re at loose ends, with no family in this area. Is that right?”

“It is.”

“Then I’ve an offer for you. I’d love to keep you as a permanent employee.”

Mr. Law sat on that for a moment before speaking, his tone cautious. “What all would that entail?”

I gestured vaguely to the camp behind us. “You’ve now had a taste for what our jobs are like. I would dearly love to say that on average, they’re not dangerous, nor do the artifacts ever give me trouble—”

Arthur let out a pained half laugh, half groan beside me.

“—but it would be fanciful to say it. Really, an outright lie, and I like you too much to mislead you. This job so far has been pretty par for the course. We travel the world throughout the year. The farthest I’ve gone so far is Russia. The closest job to home was in San Francisco. I never know from moment to moment what will come to me, or where we’ll be in two weeks. If you want a job of high adventure mixed in with days of boring travel, then I can promise you that in spades.”

Mr. Law’s voice was rich with amusement. “Sounds like the life I’ve had so far, miss, not much difference there. What’s the pay?”

“Sixty dollars a month, plus found.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a generous offer.”

It was indeed. I paid better than most employers, partially because I put a little hazard pay in there as well, and it was probably better money than he’d ever been offered in his life. I did want to explain the ‘found’ part better. “When we’re on the road, all travel expenses, food, and such are covered by me. You won’t need to worry about any of it. When we’re off-season—which typically happens in the winter; we stay in my Los Angeles home from November until February—then you’ll have a room in the staff’s quarters. There’s communal dining in the kitchen, and grounds you can use as you please. Arthur can tell you, the room is quite nice.”

Arthur chimed in. “It’s definitely that and our own space to customize as we like. I hope you’ll consider it, James. I’d really like to continue working with you.”

“Well, now.” He sat back for a moment, but only a moment, before holding out a hand. “I can’t pass up an offer this good. I’ll work for you, Miss Arnoult.”

I took the hand and shook it firmly, unable to contain my smile. “I’m so glad. I hoped that would be your answer. After this job is done, we’ll most likely retreat home for a week or two, just to recover. I can properly settle you in to your new accommodations then.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Might I call you James from now on? As you’ve seen, we’re on a first-name basis on the team.”

“I’d like nothing better.”

“Then thank you again, James.”

“Dinner is ready!” Nozomi called from the campfire.

Tarnation. That meant I had to put my shoes back on, didn’t it?

As tempting as it was to stay here for the rest of the night, my stomach let out a petulant rumble, reminding me of the importance of sustenance. I sighed, pulled my socks and boots back on, and accepted Arthur’s hand as he helped me up. The three of us walked back to the campfire, where people were already dishing up food onto plates.

I paused before taking my own and announced generally, “James has agreed to become a permanent employee.”

Nozomi and Flo gave a quick clap, and I could tell they were very pleased by this development.

“Welcome, Mr. Law,” Flo said warmly. “I’m quite glad that you chose to stay.”

“Thank you, Ms. McGrath. Please, call me James.”

“In that case, call me Flo. We’ll be working with each other a long time, I hope. We might as well be friends.”

“Call me Nozomi, too. Will you be wintering with us?” Nozomi asked as she handed him a plate. “When we stop for the season.”

“I will, yes.”

“Oh good. You’ll like the house, it’s very comfortable. With you on hand, I can properly look at your equipment. I can only do so much with the tools I have in the truck.”

James accepted the bowl, but he didn’t seem to know what to make of that last statement. “My equipment?”

For his sake, I tried to head this off. “His equipment is fine, Mi-chan.”

“Just a few tweaks,” she soothed us both. “Just a few adjustments that will make life so much easier. I don’t have the proper tools on me now, but when we’re back home with my workshop, I can work on it all.”

“Such as…?” James went to sit next to her, apparently quite interested in what she would say next. “You already said you’d modify my guns.”

“Oh, there’s more than guns, isn’t there?”

The poor man was doomed. Doomed and didn’t even know it.

Arthur leaned in to whisper, “I’ll try to warn him later, when she’s out of earshot.”

“Someone needs to,” I muttered back.

Problem for a different day. I went for my dinner, as the smell of beans, meat, and fried bread was entirely too tempting to ignore. Flo handed me a plate and a canteen, which I took and settled on the ground with. Ahh, bliss. The chili was flavored well, and the flatbread was crispy to perfection. I recognized Nozomi’s hand in the bread, as she knew how to fry things.

Of course Dr. Warwick asked the question no one wanted to get Nozomi on. “What kind of adjustments can you do for Mr. Law, aside from the guns?”

She immediately turned on her log, getting right into her favorite subject. “I’ve made some great strides in lightening spells. I can apply those to his saddle and saddlebags, which will increase the stamina of his horse. Also, there’s some very interesting developments in pocket space—”

I groaned. Oh no. “Mi-chan—”

“It did work, Arwen!” she defended immediately.

“Sure, it worked. It exploded the next day, but it worked.”

“Well, I did overload it a bit on that first go,” she admitted. As if it hadn’t taken out a corner of the workshop.

To the now-alarmed men, I explained, “She’s been trying to put expanding spells on the interior of boxes. She calls it pocket space. In theory, it’s doable. You can cram more into a bag, or a box, sometimes up to twice the volume it should be able to handle. The problem is the spell isn’t exactly stable. The longest we’ve been able to get it to work is something like twenty-four hours—”

“Twenty-six!”

“—and then it goes KABOOM. Rather spectacularly. Mi-chan, I forbid you from putting any pocket spells on James’s things. He likes his horse. He likes his body in one piece. No.”

“You’re a terrible friend. You never let me have fun.” I could hear the pout from here.

“If you ever feel bad, I can always sing for you. Then you can decide what’s worse.”

“Eww, no! No singing for you.”

I cackled.

“Arwen’s totally tone deaf,” Nozomi explained to the men. “She sings, and people crawl out of their graves begging for mercy. Once, we got stuck in a cave underground, and she decided a grand way to pass the time and let people know we were there was to sing. A full musical. I was ready to murder her by the time we escaped.”

“When was this?” James asked curiously. “How did you get stuck?”

Nozomi obligingly told the full tale, with me chipping in at all the wrong moments just to tease her. I might have enjoyed myself a tad too much.

It was probably my age that tricked people into thinking I was an adult.

At any rate, the evening passed in good camaraderie. It was an excellent beginning to the future. I hoped it heralded good things as James stepped properly into his role in the team and that I got to keep him for many years to come.

Seventeen

Triangle Bar Triangle was Wetherill’s ranch. A well-maintained road led to it, and I saw a few interesting things as we drove in. The most prominent was to the far right, poking up out of the ground at a distance. Normally, I wouldn’t be able to see anything that far off.

This, however, was not normal.

I tugged at Dr. Warwick’s sleeve and pointed towards the area. “There’s Anasazi ruins over there?”

He leaned in closer to my shoulder in order to look out the window. “Oh. Yes, there are. I’m surprised you can see that.”

“I see a strange energy over there.” I frowned harder, my eyes squinting in a vain attempt to see better. I said vain because it didn’t do one iota of good. “This energy is rather like the mask’s—it has that sort of structure—but it’s more brown than red.”

“Is that good?”

“Brown has never tried to kill me. So, yes.”

Dr. Warwick didn’t seem to know how to respond to that.

I prompted him again, gesturing toward the walls. “Describe it for me.”

“They’re remarkably intact considering their age. The walls go up at least two, possibly three stories? Hard to tell from this distance. The walls all seem to be connected somehow, like it was a fort or a castle, forming blocky rooms that share walls. I think there was an exterior wall, too, but it’s much lower and looks mostly destroyed compared to everything else. It’s hard to make out details. The stone is the same color of tan-brown as all the other rock in this area.”

“How large is it?”

“Hmm, I don’t want to judge it from here, but it’s quite sizeable. Really, the size of a fort would be my guess.”

Fascinating. Was this normal for Anasazi ruins? I’d have to ask, assuming Wetherill was the type to answer questions. “Thank you, Doctor. You’re quite decent at descriptions.”

“You’re very welcome. I’d love to get over there and poke about a bit, if it’s allowed.”

“I would as well. If I can wrangle permission, I’ll take you with me.”

“Splendid.”

Nozomi pulled up and parked in front of the trading post, quite a few people coming in and out of it with goods in their hands.

“Let me ask inside the store if it would be all right to just drive to the house.” Nozomi opened the door, already swinging her legs out. “I’d rather not— Oh, there’s James.”

James came in closer and poked his head a little inside the truck so he could speak with all of us. “Mrs. Wetherill runs the store here. I’ve already asked her if we can go up to the ranch house and talk to her husband, and she’s assured me we could do so.”

“Truly?” I was cautious considering the varied descriptions I’d heard of Mr. Wetherill.

“She’s a straight shooter, very much the honest sort. All I had to mention was ‘Anasazi relic’ and she just shooed me on.”

I beamed at him. “Good work, James. Then let’s go to the house.”

“We can do that, but miss, one word of warning.” He leaned in, dropping his tone to a more confidential volume. “There’s a man here named Bill Finn, and I want everyone to steer clear of him.”

That did not sound promising.

“Why?” Flo asked from the front seat.

“I’ve had run-ins with him before. I didn’t know he was working out here until I overheard his name in the store. Never did get a good feeling about that man. I can’t prove he’s done half of what I suspect, but he’s not one I trust. Just steer clear of him. I’ll keep an eye on him much as I can. That said, I’ve already tied my horse up at the guesthouse on the ranch. I’ll ride in with all of you.”

“Good call,” I said. “Please do so.”

James tipped his hat to me before taking himself back out the door to walk around the truck and get in.

Nozomi shut the door then twisted in her seat to look at me. “I hope we can get in and out of here quickly.”

“I second that motion, trust me. This isn’t the right place for us to be. It doesn’t have the right energy signature, and I don’t like that we have rumors abounding about how much trouble visits this place. Arthur, when we get to the house, make sure to take the mask in with us. I don’t want it unguarded, even for a moment.”

“Either James or I will keep an eye on it.”

“Thank you.”

Nozomi put the truck into motion, the pace a touch slow because of pedestrians coming down the road from the other direction. There also seemed to be a great many sheep… Were sheep raised in this area?

The main ranch house was a single-story building that seemed to spread out in several directions. With the sun coming in from behind, casting the buildings somewhat in shadow, it was hard for me to sort out which was the main building and what might be smaller outbuildings that were built close by. It was separated from the road by a wooden fence, a simple affair that was likely only there to keep the sheep out. I didn’t get the impression of much in the way of decoration, not even rose bushes to line the front of the house. I couldn’t smell a single flower, at least. It seemed a very industrious place, meant for work more than show. The size of it was what impressed me. Most ranches had smaller homes, the other buildings demanding most of the lumber and size to accommodate the animals. I could see quite the barn behind the house; the red structure stood two stories tall at least, but it didn’t overshadow the main building.

We pulled into an open area right in front of the main doors, I’m sure because Nozomi didn’t know where else to park at this juncture.

Flo got out and approached the main door, knocking firmly. It was opened a moment later, and she spoke with another person briefly. It seemed to be a good conversation, as Flo waved us to come in.

Well, this interview was easier to manage than I’d feared. Dare I hope this a good portent of things to come?

Either way, I was more than ready to spend time outside the back seat of this truck. I got out, then took a moment to stretch my arms above my head, trying to get blood flow back in my body. Better. I doubted I looked very presentable after days on the road, but I chose not to worry about it. Surely what I brought with me was more important than how tidy my hair was.

The girl at the door gave us a nod of greeting. “I’m Glena. Just follow me, please.”

“Thank you.”

I paused only long enough to track Arthur as he went to the back of the truck and offloaded the mask. He didn’t seem too strained carrying the box in, but I waited until he’d cleared the door before following him. I’d dive in and help him if he needed assistance.

Glena showed us into a well-appointed parlor, with many a couch and chair made for guests to relax in. I detected the scent of beeswax, so the room had been polished recently. I didn’t truly care to sit again, so I stood next to a window. Looking out, I could just see the tip of the ruins and that strange energy. It was still so odd for me to look at, I wasn’t sure how to describe it. If the residue of lightning could somehow linger in soil, lying upon it while still retaining energy, it might look like this.

Because of the mask’s energy, I thought I would know the energy signature of the land it came from. This, however, wasn’t quite the same. I could see how it was of the same origin—there were definite similarities—but that was like saying an apple and a pear were of the same type. Why the difference?

Or was I looking at the decayed version of energy, and its makeup had changed over time? This might remain a rhetorical question. I had no way of knowing or proving it, one way or another. Hopefully, it wasn’t something I needed to know in order to put the mask properly to bed.

The heavy tread of a man’s boots heralded the entrance of a new person into the room. I turned to see him, hoping this was the man I needed to speak with. He was of a moderate build, a touch taller than most men, but not incredibly so.

“I’m Richard Wetherill. Who might you folks be?”

Ah, perfect, the man I needed. I maneuvered carefully toward him, avoiding chairs and a coffee table as I did so. “I’m Arwen Arnoult. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wetherill. With me are my traveling companions and employees. We’ve come here to speak with you about an Anasazi relic.”

“I’m always happy to discuss that. My favorite topic, as most can tell you. Sit, please. Glena! Some refreshments!”

Well, he was certainly more genial than the rumors had painted him to be. He was very hospitable, in fact. Then again, I didn’t owe him any money and wasn’t on his bad side. That’s probably what made the difference.

There was a sound from the other room, something that might have been an acknowledgement, and Mr. Wetherill waved me to a chair. “Please, sit. Tell me more about this relic. It looks like you traveled some distance to talk to me.”

That obvious I’d been on the road a while, eh? Oh well. I wanted to get this man’s measure before showing him anything, so I chose to explain matters first. “Yes, it’s been quite the journey. We started in Boston.”

“Boston! What was an Anasazi relic doing in Boston?”

“That, sir, is quite the story. The shorter version is that it was miscategorized entirely as something Incan. It’s a mask—we assume for religious ceremonies—that came in with a body. The Boston Museum acquired it through…ah…a less than reputable merchant.”

“Black market, you mean.” Wetherill let out a sound that might have been a cut-off curse. “Curse their hides. I hate it when they do this.”

“Do what?”

“You have to understand, Ms. Arwen, the political climate out here is a hotbed of nonsense and trouble. And the Anasazi lands are smack in the middle of it all. See—how much do you know of the Anasazi?”

“Not a great deal. I consulted two experts before I even figured out that this was something from an ancient civilization that pre-dated the Indian tribes in this area. A Navajo medicine man told me a little of the history.”

“Ah, then you know something. Good. Well, here’s the thing. The Hopi revered the Anasazi, have great respect for the land and what relics they find. But this isn’t Hopi territory, according to the United States government, so they’re not around much. The Navajo dislike the Anasazi, have little good to say about them. And this IS their land. Whenever they find an Anasazi ruin, they’re quick to loot it, with little respect for anything they find except how much coin it can make them. I’ve made it known that if they find an intact site, I’ll pay for that information, and pay well. It’s kept the looting down, but how effective it is…well.” He gave a frustrated sigh. “I still hear stories like this one, where they’ve tried their hand at the black market instead. The relics tend to find their way back to me, one way or another, because I’m one of the few people who know anything about the Anasazi.”

“I can see how that would frustrate you. I understand you’re trying to preserve the history as much as possible.”

“I am, yes. Been thwarted on that more than one way. Da— Ah, that is to say, the New Mexico Normal University’s president has managed to lay claims to the ruins you see near here. It’s one of the largest Great Houses of the Anasazi, and I spent years excavating it, but he’s thwarted me from going in there at all anymore. I signed it all over to the government without compensation just to keep it protected.”

I could tell he was bitter over that, but the willingness to sign it over was a good indication to me. This man was not greedy, not when protecting the Anasazi history. I had a good feeling about showing him the mask. “I’m sorry, what is a Great House?”

“That’s what we call the largest and most intact dwellings. The Great Houses were akin to a city for us. Most of the Anasazi ruins were only a few houses all in the same area. But the Great Houses, they were a proper city with the infrastructure to support a population.”

Now that made more sense. Although why not just call them a city? “I see.”

“What relic did you find?” he inquired, voice turning hopeful.

“I’ll be happy to show you, but…” I bit my lip, trying to phrase this right. “I have a few questions for you first.”

“Of course.”

Glena came back in with a tray, which she put on the coffee table without fanfare. It held a plate of cookies and a pot of tea. I was parched and quite famished for anything sweet. I kept one eye on her as she poured tea for us, passing out cups, but tried to keep my focus on something aside from a sugary treat.

“In the course of your study of the Anasazi, I’m sure you’ve come across stories and records indicating they had a great understanding of Mother Earth’s power?”

“Oh yes. Wasn’t sure what to make of it, at first. Honestly, I thought the Navajo’s tales of it were something of a fabrication, a justification of why the Anasazi died out. But…well, Miss Arnoult, I’ll be frank. There’s something about the ruins left behind that tell an interesting tale. There’re rocks in these builds that are quarried from a hundred miles away—huge stones. There’s no easy method to get them over here, either. Why use such material when you could quarry from rock nearby? Unless you had an easy method of transporting it.”

So he did believe in the Anasazi’s powers. Good. That would further this conversation along nicely. “I see your point. My second question to you is, have you ever found an intact mask?”

“No, sadly. They were always broken, usually in multiple pieces. Why? Your mask is intact?”

“Unfortunately so.” Really, the mask could be broken? I’d be excited about this possibility except I still didn’t know what kind of power it would take, or what the backlash of that would be. I had a feeling attempting to break the mask would kill me. I’d rather not take that chance.

“I consider it to be quite fortunate!” Mr. Wetherill sounded affronted I’d said that.

I accepted the cup of tea from Glena, giving her a smile in thanks. “It’s a mixed blessing or curse, as you look at it. You must understand, sir, the reason I have the mask instead of the Boston Museum is because the director begged me to take it out of his hands before it destroyed his building.”

Mr. Wetherill froze in place, a hand out for a cup of tea that he never actually accepted. I could feel his attention on me sharpen.

“What does that mean, Ms. Arnoult?”

“I mean, sir, that when the mask was placed inside the museum, it did two very troubling things. First, it tried very hard to get someone to don it. Literally anyone within reach, it wasn’t picky. Secondly, it sang to the stones of the building and had them spinning in place.”

He shook his head in a jerky fashion, as if struggling to accept what I’d said. “Wait. Wait, hold on a moment, you mean to tell me that the stones of a building spun around? And the mask is responsible?”

“I assure you, it is.” I took a sip of my tea—which was quite rich with aroma and splendid on my parched tongue—before elaborating. With one finger, I tipped my sunglasses down so he could see my eyes. “I can see the energies of the strange and occult quite easily. The power of the Anasazi wasn’t fabricated. It’s quite real. I say unfortunately because the mask is powerful, mindless, and destructive if not kept strictly under quarantine.”

His jaw dropped, working and making noises that weren’t words for a long moment. “You can’t be serious!”

“Quite serious. I’ll show you, if you like, but only for a brief moment. I don’t want more trouble on my hands. I’ve come to you, sir, with a very specific question. I need to know where the sacred spots of the Anasazi are so that I can put the mask back into ground it recognizes as peaceful. If I fail to do this and the mask ends up in the wrong hands, it will rearrange the landscape as you know it and probably murder everyone in this canyon.”

“But…but it’s not sentient, surely?”

“That’s something I can’t swear by. Honestly speaking, I don’t think it is, but it’s certainly ferocious. To the mask, every person on this land is an interloper, and it will do what it takes to remove all of us. I have seen that play out when we were attacked by bandits. Stopping the mask afterward was quite arduous.” I pushed my glasses back in place, head canted in question. How was he really taking this? I couldn’t read his body language well enough to judge. “Tell me, Mr. Wetherill. Do you believe me?”

Eighteen

He sat on that question a full fifteen seconds without so much as twitching. I stayed quiet and waited, as hard as that was, knowing no number of words could magically convince him. I wasn’t about to offer a demonstration, either. He’d already seen things himself that inclined him to believe in the Anasazi’s power, but it was often easier to believe something could exist in the distant past rather than in modern times. I’d come across that attitude more than once.

Finally, he exhaled a huge breath. “Ms. Arnoult. I think there’s many a person who would look you in the eye and say you’re crazy. Part of me wants to do that very thing. But I can’t discount what I’ve seen with my own eyes. You would not have come all this way from Boston without something to back your claim. I’m inclined to suspend my disbelief. If that’s really an Anasazi mask, then you might be right.”

“You’re the expert, sir. Really, I’m fairly certain this thing is Anasazi—the medicine man I consulted with said it is. But I still want your opinion. Two words of caution. One, this thing is very seductive. You must steel your mind against it. Second, I’ll give you a pair of gloves to wear. If you must pick it up, do so only with the gloves on.”

“How will the gloves help me?”

“They’re lead lined. It diffuses the effect of the mask so that you can resist its song. Lead will give you temporary protection.” I grimaced. “Very temporary.”

There was another digestive pause. “Ms. Arnoult, I have the feeling that the conversation over dinner tonight will be absolutely fascinating as I pick your brain.”

“You’re not the first to say so, sir. At any rate, do you agree with these precautions?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. Arthur, Nozomi, let’s carefully take off that lid. Flo, my bag?”

Flo, being the excellent woman she was, already had the gloves out of the bag and handed them over to Mr. Wetherill. I watched him don them, but most of my attention was on the mask. I was mentally daring it to even make a peep of trouble. I would slam that lid shut and boot it onto the canyon floor, don’t think I wouldn’t.

Perhaps the mask sensed my attitude, as it didn’t immediately start singing when the lid came off. Mr. Wetherill shifted to kneel next to the box, examining it from every angle for a long moment. I expected such behavior from someone who was trained in archaeology. This man was self-taught, but apparently taught well, as he had all the right behaviors.

After a long moment, he reached in and carefully lifted the mask out, turning it so that he could examine the artifact from the back. “The straps, did you renew them?”

“I have done nothing to the mask but seal it in a box, I assure you.”

“Leather straps this old should be nothing more than dust by now. Yet they look…well, not new, but certainly serviceable.”

“They’re unfortunately quite serviceable.”

“Why do you say unfortunately?”

“Because a fool put the mask on two days ago.”

Mr. Wetherill made an intrigued noise, head turning toward me. “Indeed? What was the result?”

“Death,” James answered bluntly. “Had to kill him to get the mask back off.”

“That’s alarming. Is that really the only way to get it off?”

“I’m sure the Anasazi were able to manage it much better but, unfortunately, they didn’t leave instructions behind. In truth, James put the man out of his misery, in a sense. The man who put the mask on was dying by degrees. The mask was sucking the life force out of him at such an extreme degree, he would have died by morning.”

“I wasn’t tempted to put the mask on before,” Mr. Wetherill muttered, mostly rhetorically. “I’m certainly not tempted now. Still, I can confirm what you already know. This is definitely Anasazi make. The craftsmanship is completely on par with their workings, as is the material. I will say, in my opinion, this is something from their later years.”

“Why do you say that?” Dr. Warwick asked.

“Two things stand out to me. The material itself, to start with. At the height of Anasazi power, they liked to bring in stone and workings from all over. They were a trade hub, after all; they could afford to spend extra time and money to bring in something exotic. However, in their decline, they chose more and more things closer to home. Things more readily at hand that they could craft themselves. This stone is something you can find right here in Chaco Canyon. Most of the masks I’ve found were a compilation of stone. The base might have been from Chaco Canyon, but its detailed work would have gemstones or painted features that hailed from another area. This mask is entirely plain aside from the beading.”

It made sense. I couldn’t refute the logic or the analysis.

“The second thing is the craftsmanship itself. Normally, the masks we’ve found have been very smooth, honed to a shine. Even in their broken state, you can tell it was a work of art. This mask, however, looks like a journeyman made it. It’s rough around the edges, very blocky, and I can see the workings of a hand that sculpted it. Nothing about this is polished. This mask was made in a hurry. At the decline of the Anasazi, they were more focused on food and water demands than anything else. Such craftsmanship fell by the wayside as a result.”

As if talking about it summoned its attention, I started hearing that thrice-cursed song in my head again. I growled in vexation and pointed at the mask like I would an errant dog. “You. Stop that right now. I will borrow James’ gun and shoot you myself.”

The song didn’t stop, but it did grow quieter, like it was trying not to draw my attention. I growled at it again.

Mr. Wetherill quickly put the mask back into the box, alarmed. “That song in my head, is that the mask?”

“Quite so. It’s not at all selective who it sings too. Some are immune, however, strangely enough. I have a pet theory it’s the ones who are tune deaf who can’t hear it. Regardless…Arthur, the lid? Thank you.”

The lid was quickly replaced, Arthur wasting no time doing it. Nozomi was quick with the rope, too, tying the lid back on.

“Astonishing,” Mr. Wetherill murmured, sinking back onto his haunches. “Truly astonishing. That’s part of the oral tradition, you know, the legend that was shared with me and what drew my curiosity to begin with. The stories of how the Anasazi could sing to the stones and the stones would move. I didn’t think it would be an actual song.”

“Oh, it’s a song. A very eerie, minor tune that you forget as soon as the mask stops singing. I assume they had better retention than we, since they were able to use that song at will.”

“I must correct you, Ms. Arnoult. You seem to think that the mask was their tool, what they used in order to shape the rock as they liked.”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean? Isn’t that precisely what it is?”

“I highly doubt it. We don’t know much about the religious practices of the Anasazi. In fact, we know so little that I highly suspect they didn’t have a traditional religion, not as we know it. No, the mask is a result, not a product. The Anasazi had no use of tools to perform their ability over the earth. Rather, the mask was a symbol of the wearer, proof that they had the ability mastered. Because it was worn while in use, it absorbed the ability of the wearer. That’s why it’s like this today.”

“Ahhh,” I intoned. Mostly because I had no other words to offer. I wasn’t sure what to make of this revelation. Did it make sense? I supposed it did. The strange somewhat-sentience of the mask at least made sense now if it had absorbed the magick and will of its user. On the other hand, I was relieved that the knowledge of how to sling earth around had died out with an ancient people. There were certain things you shouldn’t tamper with, and Mother Earth was definitely one of them.

Dr. Warwick cleared his throat, drawing my attention. “Ms. Arnoult, you think he’s correct?”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt. Really, I should have suspected it from the get-go. It’s not the first time I’ve seen something like this. Really, it’s a coin toss when I find an artifact. Was it made for this purpose? Or did it absorb the power from the wearer and became like this through power or luck? I never really know going in. Sometimes I figure it out, sometimes I don’t. Either way, I have to deal with it.”

Mr. Wetherill stood and removed the gloves, handing them back to Flo. “Thank you. I’m glad I wore those now.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Flo responded.

“As for you, Ms. Arnoult, your attitude toward the mask alarms me. Do you normally scold something that can rearrange this canyon like you would a disobedient dog?”

I snorted inelegantly. “I assure you, that mask is not the most powerful thing I’ve dealt with. It’s not even the most challenging. It is, however, the current thorn in my side. I think at this point you are convinced that I’m telling you the truth.”

“One hundred percent.”

“Relieved to hear it. Now, I have one other question for you, and this is the tricky one. I need to find a sacred place to put this. Sacred to the Anasazi, I mean. Something out of the way, that no one will dig up or search through. A place I can safely put the mask where it will not be disturbed again. Where might that be?”

He resumed his seat, reclaimed his tea, and took a sip. I recognized delaying tactics when I saw them and let him think. My own tea was cooling, so I drank it and bit into a very delicious sugar cookie. It wouldn’t be rude of me to take a second cookie, would it?

“You’ve quite stumped me with this question, Ms. Arnoult.” He sat back, crossing a leg over the other, the air around him of a man racking his brains. “There are several Great Houses that I know of, some of them in out-of-the-way areas, but they’re not unknown or untraveled to. San Mateo, for instance, or Skunk Springs. The problem is that they will be excavated eventually, and the mask will once again be put in a museum.”

I shook my head. “No. That will just repeat the events of the past week.”

“Which is why I don’t suggest it. My first thought is perhaps the pinnacle at the end of Chaco Canyon. It’s only been climbed once in recorded history, by my own wife, in fact. It’s a steep, arduous climb and really, only a true Anasazi buff would even be remotely tempted. It was the site where they manufactured arrow and spearpoints, you see. For the Anasazi, it was a lark getting up there and doing the work. For us mere mortals, it takes a bit more effort.”

“Now that sounds like a good possibility. It is large?”

“Fair-sized. If you bury it up there, I can promise you, no one will notice. No one will even go up there to be able to notice. I do feel like I can think of a better option for you, though. Do you have time to stay here for a night, let me look through my notes?”

I held up a hand. “I have no intention of going off halfcocked. Unless I know the right place to put the mask, I’m loath to move forward.”

“Good. I’ll settle you in the guesthouse. I need to attend to a few matters, but I’d like to pull you into my study later, perhaps after dinner. We can consult my notes and the map and find the right place to put this. Part of me wishes we could put the mask in a museum. It’s the first intact one we’ve found, after all, but…” He trailed off, his breath a noisy shudder. “I don’t dare. Not after experiencing the lure of it myself. I’m not even remotely tempted by it and still my hands twitched with the desire to put it on. I can imagine what it would do to a man with fewer morals.”

“I don’t have to imagine.”

Mr. Wetherill regarded me with his head canted. “Yes, as you said. I’d like further details on how you faced him.”

“Let that be part of dinner conversation,” I advised dryly. “Or better yet, part of the conversation in your study. I don’t think it suitable for younger ears.”

“I have three children. Please don’t talk about that in front of them, I’ll never hear the end of it from my wife.”

“Understood.”

There was a knock at the door and a man’s head popped in. “Sir?”

Mr. Wetherill lifted a hand in acknowledgement. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Yes, sir.” The man retreated.

“Let me fetch someone to show you to the guesthouse. Please be comfortable while you wait. Just tell one of my people if you need anything.”

“Thank you for the hospitality. I know we just dropped in on you without warning.”

“You did, and I’m glad, because you brought something truly fascinating with you. We’ll pause the conversation until dinner.” He rose, tipped his hat to the ladies, then strode out of the room, calling for people as he went in a voice that carried.

Flo leaned in, her voice low to avoid carrying outside of the room. “What do you think?”

“He strikes me as sincere. I’d love to know where he thinks I can put this thing. I hope he’ll give me several options, that way I can pick one without him knowing. It’ll be safer for him if he truly has no idea which way I’ll go.”

Nozomi, of course, was the one who said the practical thing. “If the spot is remote and something people won’t excavate, that means it’s going to be near impossible to reach. Odds are we’ll have to park the truck at some point and hike the rest of the way. You realize that, right?”

I growled in vexation. “I was trying not to think about that right now.”

“Don’t bury your head in the sand, A-chan. If we really have to hike or climb, then that means we’ll need supplies before we leave. The trading post is our only option for such things.”

It was imminently practical, of course; I was just trying not to stress about it before I absolutely had to.

“We’ll need to guard this mask at all times while we’re here, too,” Arthur warned. “If word gets around we have something valuable, odds are someone will try to steal it to sell it.”

“Or word will get to the president of the college and he’ll try to claim it for his museum,” Dr. Warwick pitched in. “Academic types are notoriously jealous of such finds.”

I regarded them all wearily. Unfortunately, they were right. I was just tired and didn’t want to deal with yet another complication. “My goal is to find a good location and leave first thing in the morning before anything can catch up with us.”

Flo muttered, “God willing, we’ll manage it.”

God or luck. I didn’t care who decided to pitch in to make it reality. I just didn’t want any more trouble on this trip than we’d already weathered. Please and thank you.

Nineteen

Mrs. Wetherill served a very fine table. We were all very happy to indulge in the excellent fare. She was a handsome sort of woman, according to Flo, not pretty in the traditional sense, but striking. I appreciated her candor as she related the story of her climb to the top of the pinnacle. It had been arduous in the extreme, apparently, and while she was satisfied with her achievement, it wasn’t something she’d choose to ever do again.

After dinner, I retreated to Mr. Wetherill’s study with Arthur and Dr. Warwick. Everyone else chose to return to their rooms and relax for a while, with James standing guard over the mask.

It felt stuffy inside the study and was dim enough that I couldn’t really make out much in the way of furniture. Arthur had to guide me to a chair next to the window, which Mr. Wetherill opened a crack for ventilation. The air felt pleasantly cool against my skin as we spent the next hour going over possible places to put the mask. Some of them were right here in the canyon, some were near Thoreau and Grants, or even on the other side of Red Mesa, thirty miles southwest of Shiprock. I didn’t mind driving the distance, if that’s what it would take.

What I did mind was having to hike that distance, especially in the blazing heat under the unrelenting sun. We would all mind that.

After debating different locations, we all decided on the pinnacle to place the mask. Absolutely no one went up there, after all, and if I buried it without marking it in any way, then no one would even know where to look. They could dig up the entire top of the pinnacle before finding it.

Climbing to the top of the pinnacle did not, needless to say, fill my heart with joy. But the idea of getting rid of the mask in a safe location and washing my hands of it did, so pinnacle it was.

I had my answer, so I excused myself with profuse thanks to Mr. Wetherill. Dr. Warwick remained at the table, asking questions of our host, who was all too happy to answer them. I let them play, Arthur escorting me back to the guesthouse.

As we walked, I mentioned to Arthur, “I half expected Dr. Warwick to regret coming along with us, but he seems to be having a great deal of fun.”

“Yes, he does. I don’t think he’s regretted coming on this trip. He’s asked many questions and taken extensive notes on everything he’s heard.”

“I think he’s a true intellectual, the type who finds everything interesting. If nothing else, he’ll go back to that colleague of his and tell him all about the people who were here before. It’ll make for a good conversation.” I shrugged, amused by this mental scene in my head. “Well, seems like climbing is in our immediate future. I propose we leave out early in the morning, directly after breakfast. By the time we get to the pinnacle, we might not have enough daylight left to climb it.”

“I think not. This will take two days, at least. Still, I’m glad to have a destination in mind.”

“Me too.” Those words were weak compared to what I really felt.

The next time I picked up an ancient artifact, knowing it was from a desert location, I would be asking a lot more questions. The important ones. You know, like ‘how likely are you to try and kill me on a scale of one to ten?’

Well, I said that, but…I was starting to think I would never be old enough to know better.

We were quick to load up the next morning. Nozomi and James darted next door to the trading post to buy paper and extra climbing gear for James and Dr. Warwick, an errand that only took them a few minutes.

Then, of course, we had to retreat to the back of the truck to once again work on the mask and its boxy shield. We were parked to the side of the guest house, well out of view of everyone else, so I felt it reasonably safe to handle things out here. Besides, all of our tools were here. I didn’t want to haul it all into the house only to haul it back out again five minutes later.

As soon as I took the mask out of its box, it started its little sing-along. I was prepared for this moment, and I lifted a hammer threateningly over its head.

“Try it, punk,” I snarled. “I’ve had it up to here with your shenanigans. I have a hammer and chisel and I’m not afraid to use them.”

I slapped three talismans on top of it, secured with a light glue, mostly covering the face of the mask.

The mask trailed off on a sour note and went quiet again.

“That’s better.”

Nozomi grumbled under her breath, “Threatening ancient things that can kill us. Does she think about how I, the innocent bystander, am in the blast radius?”

“Don’t worry, Mi-chan, I’ll protect you.”

“I’ll remind you of that when I haunt you as a ghost.”

I waved her concern off. The mask understood who was boss here. Namely, not it.

I lifted it out and put it onto even more talismans. Eight talismans this time, made of larger paper so I could wrap them wholly around the mask without a single sliver of it showing. We were able to line some of the old paper around the bottom and sides, the ones with written talismans on them, an extra layer of insulation that I approved of.

“That there ain’t woman’s business.”

I didn’t recognize the male voice from behind me. I startled, in fact, as I hadn’t heard his approach, which indicated he’d been sneaking. My hearing was quite acute; I should have heard his approach on this dry, hardened soil. I turned sharply to see him. He wasn’t anything more than a general dark shape against the morning sun, but his energy lines were…not good. I usually associated snarled, dark grey lines like that with criminals.

“Who are you?” Nozomi challenged.

“Finn’s the name. I think you better hand that over to me. I’ll take it to the boss.”

Did this man think we were born stupid? “Your boss knows quite well that I have this and has given his blessing for me to deal with it as I see fit. You are out of line, sir. Move along.”

“You shouldn’t be messing with something like this. Women like you should be putting your magick to better uses.”

Oh, I could think of a few uses to put them to. Not that he would enjoy any of them. I didn’t know what his issue was, nor did I particularly care. I just wanted him gone so I could get this job over with. All he was doing was delaying me.

I made my voice firm. “Go away.”

“Hand it over,” he insisted, taking another step toward the truck.

I heard the click of a gun before I saw James come around the edge of the truck. He had something pointed at Finn—I assumed a gun just from sound and the level of threat imminent in the gesture.

“Finn. I warned you off from approaching them, didn’t I?”

“This is between me and her.”

“No, it’s not. That’s my employer you’re threatening. Frankly, it’s a kindness if I put a bullet in you. She’ll do far worse.”

That was the nicest compliment a man had ever given me. I beamed at James. Such a sweetheart, this one. I was glad I was keeping him.

Finn spat off to the side in disgust before turning sharply about and stomping off. Like most cowards, he was quick to run when the odds were no longer in his favor.

James parked himself right at the base of the truck. “Miss Arwen, Miss Nozomi, I say get that mask situated quick. I’d rather be out of that man’s range sooner than later.”

“I’m all for that,” Nozomi agreed. “A-chan?”

I turned and went back to putting the mask into the box.

It took a few minutes to get it all done, and James never left our side as we worked. It was a relief when the last rope was tied in place, the lid once again secure. I didn’t think Finn was acting on Wetherill’s orders, but either way, I wanted out of here quickly. We said profuse thanks to our hosts before leaving. I was in high spirits as we drove away from the ranch, beyond pleased to think that in two, perhaps three days, we’d be done with this job. Trips like this made it very clear that most of adulthood was going to bed when you didn’t want to, only to wake up when you didn’t want to. I couldn’t wait to get back to my own schedule. After I’d stopped by to spend time with Sani, of course, but not everyone needed to wait on me. I could send most of them ahead and just keep Arthur. I would love to spend a week or so with the Hatáli, learn what tricks he had, and really question this whole catalyst business.

At least the road here was nice and hardpacked. It was well maintained compared to the other roads we’d traversed in this region. I sensed Mr. Wetherill’s influence here. With all the trading he did, of course he’d keep the roads in good order to speed things along. The lack of rainfall washing the roads out also no doubt helped.

Dr. Warwick sat with me in the back of the truck. He had his notebook out, once again, but this time he was reviewing it. “Ms. Arnoult, do you suppose I might spend some time here and not go back with you to Boston?”

“We’re not going back to Boston,” I said. “I’ll send a telegram and letter to the director while in Gallup, have him send a check to my home. We’ll go to Los Angeles from here.”

“Oh! In that case, are we coming back this way to catch the train at Gallup?”

“We are, yes.”

“Excellent. Perhaps I’ll stay a few more days at the ranch, copy some of the material Mr. Wetherill has. This is a fascinating subject, and hardly any of it is known outside of this area. It’s a rotten shame, in my opinion. I want to carry more facts to my colleagues, take some pictures if I can.”

This amused me to no end. I really should have bet on this. I just knew he’d do it. “I certainly have no qualms about leaving you behind if the Wetherills don’t mind.”

“I spoke with Mr. Wetherill about the possibility last night and he said I’m always welcome to visit for a few weeks. He’d love to show me about and impart what he knows. I think he misses the excavation days, now that he’s barred from doing it. Speaking with me let him relive it, in a sense.”

I was not at all surprised. “Then we’ll plan on—”

“Uh-oh.”

I snapped my head toward Arthur. I never liked it when he spoke in that tone. Things tended to go drastically wrong very soon after. “What?”

“James is running back toward us,” Arthur answered as he stopped the truck. “And he’s not alone.”

That was not a good sign either. I had another question poised on my tongue when I heard gunfire, several shots going off in rapid succession, and I could see James hightailing it back toward us. Shimatta.

Please tell me not more bandits. Please?

I didn’t think this prayer would get answered the way I wanted it to.

“Turn around!” Flo urged.

“We can’t do it fast enough on this narrow road before they’re on us,” Arthur negated.

I could hardly use fire to fight back from the confines of the truck. I also had little time to get out of the truck, sandwiched as I was between Dr. Warwick and Flo. I cursed my uselessness in this situation even as both James and the men chasing him caught up to us.

James was quick to turn his horse around, putting his back to the truck with a gun trained on the men riding at us, but he didn’t fire. I could see why. We were rather outnumbered. On this bright day, with the blue sky that particular shade that was murder on my eyes, I couldn’t distinguish more than basic shapes, but we had nine riders facing off with us. For our group, that was just a few too many.

There was the ominous cock of a gun from the rider just at the lead of the pack, leveled at James.

“Just hand it over, Law.”

“Bill Finn, you are a piece of work,” James snarled, the frustration clear in his voice. “You think you can just take this and get away with it? Mr. Wetherill will ride you down for even trying.”

“I don’t really care what that slave-driving man likes or doesn’t like. I overheard parts of your conversation. I know what that mask can do. I know you’re going to the pinnacle to bury it. Like I’d let that happen. Just hand it over. I might let you live if you do that.”

I didn’t put high hopes on that.

Sitting here didn’t do me or any of the people with me any good. I opened the back door and climbed over Flo, then swung my legs out.

“Arwen!” Flo hissed, snatching at my arm. “Be still!”

No chance. I stepped out of the vehicle and made my way forward cautiously. Even with my tinted glasses on, this sky was penetrating in the worst way. It felt rather akin to a railroad tie being hammered right through my eyeballs. I ignored the pain as well as I could, focusing on Bill Finn.

“Mr. Finn.” I kept a hand on James’s leg, mostly for orientation and balance. “If you overheard our conversation, then yes, you do know something about what the mask can do. But did you hear the part about what it did to the last man who put it on?”

“I don’t care what it did. Just hand it over.”

If he thought he was superior to that other man, someone cut from a different cloth, he was sadly mistaken. The men weren’t much different in energy, and neither of them had the training to deal with the mask’s energy demands. Frankly, to the mask, they were all enemies and would be treated accordingly. I knew those words would fall on deaf ears, so I tried a different line of reasoning.

“That man would have been dead in twelve hours. That’s how draining the mask is to anyone who puts it on. You’re not Anasazi. You’re not trained to withstand the energy drain it will put on your soul. I ask you, what sense is it to trade your soul for your soul’s desire?”

He grew increasingly frustrated with me and leaned in to snarl, “I told you before, this ain’t woman’s business. You should be in some man’s house, taking care of his needs, not out here meddling with things like this.”

I ignored the insult. I’d heard that many times—and worse, for that matter. “Your own boss wouldn’t touch this thing with a ten-foot pole. Doesn’t that tell you how dangerous it is? You don’t have the means to handle it—”

He cut me off sharply. “Don’t underestimate me!”

“I couldn’t possibly,” I drawled. Really, at this point, the man could only impress me.

“Just hand it over!”

I was just as frustrated with him as he was with me. Greed could ruin a man. It could twist his judgement, his sense of preservation, until nothing was left. I’d seen it far too many times. I knew that trying to talk sense into him would do absolutely nothing. I stood there for a moment more, weighing my options. Fighting him here and now was sadly not an option. I had no space around me, too many friends within range, and the odds of me accidentally hurting the wrong person were too high. If we fought now, we’d have all the wrong casualties.

On the other hand, I could let him take it, and put distance between us. Have a better option than this ground to fight on. I made the decision in a snap. It was conversely easier to let him take the mask. All I had to do was wait, after all. Wait for it to consume him, wait for him to drop dead, and then I could just scoop it back up. As long as he didn’t kill us all first.

“It’s in a box in the back of the truck.” I waved toward it. “Take it, if you must.”

He snorted, high on his victory, and moved past me at a quick trot to go claim his prize.

He likely thought he’d cowed me into obedience. Finn didn’t realize I had just signed his death warrant. I’d feel pity for the man but couldn’t come up with enough sympathy to manage it. He was marching for his own death far too eagerly.

The rest of them moved too, only three men staying behind to keep James in check.

James leaned down and whispered, “Miss?”

I gave him a pat on the leg in reassurance. It wasn’t fine. This wasn’t how I would choose to spend the day, trailing after these thugs waiting for a man to die. Still, we had little choice in the matter. It was a waiting game, that was all. We’d still win in the end, gruesome as that end would be. I didn’t doubt that after Finn dropped dead, no one in his group would be remotely tempted to try again.

I could hear the sound of the box being thrown to the ground, wood breaking—really, couldn’t he just remove the top like a normal person?—and the grunt of satisfaction as he saw the mask. I turned to look because, even with my eyes giving me trouble today, I could see the energy of the mask clearly enough. Not to mention hear it. It was in full voice, the song growing louder by the second. It was free and had multiple hosts to pick from. The mask was ecstatic.

I was projecting a bit, I admit, but the mask and I were no longer on good terms. That relationship was about to deteriorate in the next few hours. Or minutes, depending on when he put the mask on.

From the other direction, coming from the ranch, came the sound of gunshots. I snapped my head up to look. Lo and behold, a posse of riders was coming quickly toward us, the hoofbeats of the horses thunderous against the hardpacked dirt. Was this the cavalry?

Finn cursed and quickly scrambled onto his horse, bellowing, “RIDE!”

His comrades were smart in their movements, turning and putting spurs to flanks, getting quickly out of the area. I awarded Finn a single IQ point for being smart enough not to try to wield the mask against opponents before he had the chance to figure out how it worked. Of course, that barely offset the negative twenty IQ points for not listening to me in the first place, but that was neither here nor there.

“Ms. Arnoult!” I recognized the voice of Mr. Wetherill as he came to a halt near me, the back haunches of his horse bending at the sudden stop. He leaned over to inquire anxiously, “Anyone hurt?”

“No, not a blessed soul. Yet. Your timing was good. Why are you here?”

“My wife saw Finn gather up his no-good friends and hightail it out this morning.”

It must have been after he talked to me.

“She heard talk in the kitchen—apparently Finn wasn’t as quiet about his plans as he should have been—put two and two together, and sent me out here to rescue you. I saw him snatch something out of the box you had the mask in. Tell me he didn’t just ride off with it?”

“Oh, he rode off with it.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“We’ll get it back.”

“Mr. Wetherill, I appreciate the sentiment, but…frankly, you have no defenses against that mask when it starts wielding earth.”

“My employee, my land, my responsibility. I’ll ride with you and help you get it back.”

Well, he was honest, if nothing else. I blew out a breath and gave him a nod. “You won’t be able to keep up with us on horseback.”

“I’ll join you in the truck. My men will follow as best they can.”

“Fair enough.” I turned and gestured toward James. “Will you ride with us or on your horse?”

He gave a grunt. “Horse. You think we can catch up to them quickly with the truck?”

“I hope so.” I grimaced. “Whole sections of Chaco Canyon will be rearranged otherwise.”

Mr. Wetherill’s voice rose in alarm, reaching a height he probably hadn’t visited since puberty. “Surely he won’t destroy the land itself! There are numerous valuable sites here that have yet to be explored!”

“When he puts the mask on, he’ll no longer be in charge of his own actions. That’s the sad thing he doesn’t understand. The mask will be in charge, and all it wants is the invaders on this land to get off. It doesn’t know the Anasazi are gone.” I shook my head in pity. Also disgust, because whatever damage Finn managed to do was on his own head. “A great deal of damage will be done to this area until one of two things happen: either Finn drops dead, the mask having drained him, or we somehow get the mask off.”

Mr. Wetherill made a sound of dismay in the back of his throat. “Ms. Arnoult, you said you had to shoot the last man to get the mask off.”

“Shooting is still very much an option,” I assured him blackly. “Quickly, now, let’s move. The more time we spend here, the more of a head start they have. And that’s the very thing we can’t give them.”

Twenty

I knew Nozomi had tinkered with the truck’s engine—she did little else when we were on winter break—but I think she failed to tell me a few details. Namely, that she’d somehow coaxed even more speed out of it. Somehow, we were going at an astonishing twenty-five miles per hour, which was lunacy. Also quite fun, despite the dire situation. I made a mental note to somehow get her alone so we could do this again.

We were blazing along. I could only hope that at this speed we’d catch up quickly since our opponents were on horseback. They didn’t have that much of a lead on us. Mr. Wetherill was crammed into the back seat with myself and Dr. Warwick, which made for tight quarters, but none of us chose to complain. Poor Nozomi was sitting on Flo’s lap up front.

Flo sounded worried as she asked, “Mr. Wetherill, what do you plan on doing once we catch up?”

“Shoot the varmints,” he answered bluntly. “I have no respect for a man who will steal, and they’re on my land doing it, to boot. I pay these men good wages. There’s no call for this behavior.”

His land, his people, his problem in my book. I did insert my own thought. “Try not to shoot Finn, please.”

“Why? Will the mask do something?”

“I have no doubt it will try, but that’s not the reason for my request. I want to do an experiment. I have a thought on how to take the mask safely off.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to shoot him?” Mr. Wetherill countered.

“It would, yes. My concern is for my own people. If, somehow, someone is lured into putting on the mask, I have no safe way to remove it again. I’d rather experiment on a thief than a friend.”

Dr. Warwick muttered the words like a prayer, “Excellent notion, thank you.”

The earth rumbled under the truck, like a tidal wave that washed ashore. I felt it keenly, heard it in that odd way you heard subterranean tremors. Growing up in California, I’d heard earthquakes many a time. It was unmistakable.

Dr. Warwick sounded unnaturally calm as he said, “I think Finn just put the mask on.”

“Good guess.” I peered between the front seats, through the windshield, spying my quarry. This section of Chaco Canyon was incredibly flat, only scraggly brush breaking up the soil, so it wasn’t hard to spot Finn. He stood away from the horses, wearing the mask, despite my warnings.

The bar for Finn was so low it was practically a tripping hazard in Hell, and yet there he was, limbo dancing with the Devil.

Another rumble, this one stronger, bucking the truck enough that we bounced on the seat. The bandits’ horses were spooking, rearing and trying to get away. At least the animals had enough sense to run. Their riders were hanging on to the reins, trying to calm them. In their shoes, I’d be trying to mount and get out of the area. Perhaps they were too focused on the horses to understand just what those tremors meant.

I put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Stop here.”

“We’re not very close,” Arthur countered. “I know it might look it, but distance in the desert is deceiving.”

“I don’t want to get too close and risk the truck. I’d rather run the rest of the distance.”

“Ah. Well, let me get just a touch closer if we’re running.”

I shifted, antsy and wanting to move. I’d rather run now in the heat of battle than walk back to the ranch later. Hopefully Arthur knew what he was doing and didn’t misjudge what was a safe distance.

Another rumble, but this one wasn’t just a shaking of the earth; it was an aftereffect. Finn’s hands lifted, like a maestro in front of an orchestra, and with them came two large boulders, wrenched free from the soil. The energy connecting them was like sticky webs, an eerie reddish-brown that only spelled trouble. He turned and heaved the boulders, throwing them at his own friends, sending people scattering in all directions. I didn’t see anyone permanently go down. They were quick to get back up if they did fall, and this time they had the sense to get on their horses and bolt for safety.

“He just sent them running,” Mr. Wetherill said in disgust. “I’ll have to hunt them all down later, assuming they even stay in this area.”

“I would think they’d have better sense than that,” Flo opined. “But thieves aren’t known for their intelligence.”

Quite the reverse in my experience.

Arthur slowed the truck immediately, putting it into park. Finally decided this was close enough, eh? I found it too close, but hopefully the truck remained safe during this battle. I’d try to orient the mask in the opposite direction while fighting. I didn’t spend half my life training to fight only for some bespelled idiot to crush Nozomi’s baby with a boulder.

Mr. Wetherill and Arthur were quick to exit the vehicle, with me right behind them. The riders had kept pace with us admirably, I could hear the beat of hooves as they halted around the truck. I oriented myself as my feet touched the ground, hands grasping my culottes in preparation to dash forward.

Mr. Wetherill caught my arm before I could run, alarm spiking his voice. “Wait, Ms. Arnoult, you’re not seriously going to fight alongside us? I can injure him, get him to a standstill before you come in.”

I smiled at him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “You’re kind to be concerned for me, sir, but I assure you in this kind of fight, I’m better prepared than you are to tackle it. Everyone stand well back from me, please!”

I slapped my wrists together, sparking flame, then called out fire with my hand, letting it dance around my fingers and palm.

Wetherill spat out an oath and scrambled back a step. “How are you doing that?!”

“Energy is energy, no matter the form. A lesson I apparently need to remind the mask since it’s bent on destroying this land one way or another.”

I ran toward my opponent.

People spread out around me in a V shape, drawing weapons and firing as they went. I assumed most of the shots went wild, aimed at the still-fleeing men or giving me cover fire. I took advantage of it, throwing my first attack at Finn before he could summon new boulders to chuck at any of us.

Finn dodged, going sideways and avoiding the fire. As he came up, he brought the earth with him—smaller chunks this time, something easier to throw. He slung them like a boy throwing a ball, trying to hit specific people near me.

I threw fire in return, hitting the rocks full force and skewing their path so they flew harmlessly over people’s heads.

“Holy—” I heard Wetherill breathe, tone astonished. “She really can battle it to a standstill!”

“Keep some distance,” was Nozomi’s advice to him. “When she really gets going, it’s not always safe to stand next to her.”

I was just a woman trying to have it all—a career, a collection of enchanted cloaks, maybe a castle guarded by a pack of faithful hounds, and the ability to transform into a dragon so I could menace those who have crossed me. Someone explain to me, then, how I ended up arguing with non-sentient things trying to kill me?

I must have taken a false step in life.

Finn picked up more earth. He was getting faster at it, each chunk of earth a little smaller, more maneuverable. This time, the rocks were something about the size of a ball, and quick to dart. My reflexes were barely fast enough to hit them and divert them upward once again.

“Arwen, whatever you want to try, do it now!” Flo commanded. “He’s figuring this out faster than the bandit did!”

I saw that. Not just in the range and speed of the attacks, but in the energy consumption as well. The drain on Finn wasn’t as bad as with the bandit—the mask wasn’t sapping him so quickly that it threatened his life. The mask’s energy had taken over his head and heart but hadn’t gotten farther than his waist. The other bandit had been wholly taken over before he died, no part of him untouched by the mask’s energy. Finn might be able to continue on for several days like this. Had the mask adjusted its use, knowing its host wasn’t trained to properly wield it?

Either way, I didn’t want Finn free and roaming around for several days. That would cause no end of trouble. No, thank you.

I had two thoughts, really, and it would mean a little time to set up both of them. I stopped abruptly, only three hundred yards or so from my opponent. I used fire one more time to divert its next attack, throwing fire to the side this time, the easier method at this range. It was tiring to keep throwing fire around like this, and hot enough to make sweat roll down my back. Especially as the day heated, it became unbearable. I knew I didn’t have the stamina to fight all day. Maybe under cooler conditions, but not under this desert sun. This sun was angry. It was on a diet and not hugged enough as a child. I needed to finish this quickly.

“Cover me!” I called out to everyone.

My magical sight was only ever just a blink away from taking over my normal sight completely. Usually, it overlapped so that I could see both, but when I truly needed to focus, I could blink and shift so that the world around me stopped being blocky shapes of color. Between one heartbeat and the next, the world turned into shades of monochrome, bright lines of energy shaping everything around it. I normally didn’t stay in this sight because it gave me a migraine after a while, but in moments like this, it was beyond useful. I didn’t see a man standing in front of me anymore. I saw a spiderweb of bright reddish-brown energy in a humanoid shape, with its core in the mask and spiraling through the body. I saw the way it fed into the nervous system. I saw the weakest link of the energy, the most vulnerable spot.

It told me precisely where to strike.

Anticipation rushed through me in a tingle, starting at my fingertips as I began summoning and drawing upon the very air around me. Energy was energy, and air was really just a mixture of elements: oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, argon, and whatnot. I focused solely on the oxygen, as it was easier to do one instead of multiple elements. I took it, shaped it, then wielded it as one would a spear. I threw it hard into Finn’s lungs, knocking the breath right out of him.

He staggered back at the impact, folding in a little as the air left him, and I gave him no chance to breathe in another. I stopped the airflow from his mouth and nose, seizing control of the oxygen and nitrogen in his immediate area, forming a bubble around him that was deprived of both elements. He staggered again, hand going to his throat as he seized, struggling desperately to breathe.

All motion around me stopped, people drawing to a halt as they watched Finn drop to his knees, clawing at his throat, desperate for his next breath.

“Arwen?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

“Not yet,” I responded grimly.

“What are you waiting on?”

“For the mask to believe its host is dying.”

Mr. Wetherill sounded unnerved in the extreme as he muttered, mostly to himself, “He looks like he is. How is she doing that?”

I heard Nozomi lean in and explain, “She can control elements. I’ve seen her do it more than once. It’s why she said she’s better equipped for this fight than we are.”

“I can see that now. Is there anything she can’t fight?”

“Well, nothing’s won so far, let me put it that way.”

Heh. True enough. Had some close calls, though, I couldn’t pretend otherwise.

I focused so their conversation didn’t distract me. I could track my success by the mask’s behavior. It was slowly withdrawing its control of the nervous system, retracting its energy lines as Finn’s body went through distress, unable to function without proper air.

“Arwen?” Flo prompted.

“Not yet.” Not quite yet. The mask still had too much control of that body. It was still a little too integrated. It was close, though, and getting closer by the second.

“The man’s purple,” someone muttered further along the line, sounding alarmed.

Not yet, not yet. So close, though. Come on, come on….

The mask finally retreated completely, the energy once again solely in itself. I drew in a breath, summoning hydrogen this time as I moved closer, aiming it for a very specific place. I fitted my attack between the mask and the skin of Finn’s face, releasing it without fanfare.

The effect was a miniature explosion, forcing the mask free and sending it flying several feet, where it landed with a clatter against the sunbaked soil. I had no doubt Finn’s face was bruised as well, but again, I had little sympathy to summon for the man.

As an afterthought, I removed the bubble and let air return into his area. I suppose I might as well let him breathe, now that he was free of the mask.

Finn sucked in a breath like he’d been drowning, flopping sideways then onto his back, breathing in noisy gulps.

I ignored him, marching forward. I had to reclaim that mask before it gathered up the wherewithal to try and seduce someone else nearby into donning it. I heard several footsteps right on my heels, and I had no doubt that Arthur and James at the very least were in step with me, not about to let me near Finn without protection.

They were sweethearts that way. I grinned even as I crossed the distance. It was a relief to get to the mask, and I was careful to pick it up by the straps and not touch the mask itself. If I’d thought it through better, I’d have grabbed my gloves first. Ah well. Sani’s necklace was doing a fine job of protecting me even without the gloves. I’d have to give him profuse thanks for it later. The protections on me would suffice until I could get back to the truck.

“You,” I told the mask, “are done for the day. No more trouble out of you, otherwise I’ll let James shoot you as he likes. And as for you, Mr. Finn, the next time an expert tells you something is a bad idea? Do listen, won’t you?”

He was still gasping for air like a beached fish but managed, “You’re not a mage, you’re something worse! You stole the air from my lungs!”

“And saved your life in the process. You’re welcome.” I cocked a brow at him, not at all bothered by his accusation. Frankly, I’d been called worse. I turned on my heel and found that I’d been right, both Arthur and James were right there with me. As was Mr. Wetherill, in fact, his gun trained on Finn. “Mr. Wetherill, I leave it to you what happens to Mr. Finn.”

“I’ll drag him back to the ranch for a hearing. Not that there’s much doubt about the outcome.”

I daresay there wasn’t. People were hanged for less in these parts. I had only one question for Finn before I left him. “How many people know I was heading for the pinnacle to bury the mask?”

“Most of the ranch, probably, by now.” Finn didn’t sneer as he answered, still too shaken by me to do anything but answer plainly. I could hear the fear in his voice. “I didn’t make a secret of it when I was drawing the men together.”

So the pinnacle as a location was out. I felt like crying. Seriously like crying.

“You fool,” Mr. Wetherill growled. “I suppose you ambushed her on the road to save yourself a climb. I’m sorry for this, Ms. Arnoult. What do you plan to do now?”

I stared at the mask in resignation. “I guess this means I get to do this the hard way.”

Twenty-One

We retreated to the ranch house, again, as I needed access to Mr. Wetherill’s maps and extensive knowledge of the area. Not to mention a place to lie down after I enacted Plan B.

Or was this Plan G?

Quite honestly, I’d lost track.

It didn’t take long to gather everyone up, and we spent an hour getting back to the house. There was a great deal of shouting all around as we pulled back into the front yard, mostly angry people who were out for Finn’s blood. I left them to it. I had no desire to get entangled with whatever laws and justice ruled this land. Finn’s lifespan had already been shortened a good ten years because of the stunt he pulled this morning. I could see it in his energy, as it was even dimmer than before. And that was saying something. I didn’t see how anything they could do, short of execution, could match that.

Instead, I went into the house, hailing the employee Glena as I went through the front door. “Excuse me, could I enlist your aid?”

“Of course, miss, what do you need?” The response was distracted. I could tell her attention was on the commotion outside.

“Mr. Finn’s been caught, and Mr. Wetherill is dealing with him,” I assured her. “Let the men sort themselves out. What I need is the largest basin you can get me, something watertight, a board that floats, and a compass. Also, put everything you gather into a room that I can lock.”

“I can get that to you in a few minutes, miss. If you’d like, I can carry it over to the guesthouse. We can lock it up in the sitting room there.”

“Perfect, please do.” The main house would be too noisy for the foreseeable future anyway. The guesthouse was behind this main building and a little offset. It would be farther away from the noise. Quiet would definitely be helpful. Not only for the experiment I would try next, but for the aftermath of it.

With Flo’s guidance, my hand tucked into her elbow, we retreated from the house and headed for the guesthouse. I mentally girded my loins as we walked. I’d done everything I could to avoid this. I always do. If not for Finn and his evil, greedy ways, I wouldn’t be resorting to it now.

Dr. Warwick, of course, was curious and joined us as we went for the guesthouse. “Miss Arnoult, can I ask what you’re planning to do?”

“A reading. I want to see if the mask has an opinion about where it wants to go. I’d rather not sit with a map again and just guess, since that didn’t work out well last time.”

“Oh. You can do that?”

“I can, with the right tools. I’m having Glena fetch those now.”

“Did she have what you needed?”

“I imagine most households do. It’s not the tools that are the issue so much as my own energy.”

“I don’t follow.”

Of course he didn’t. I’d not explained any of this to him, only mentioned it in passing. “You’re aware, I trust, of how primitive compasses work?”

“I am. Put a magnetized needlepoint on top of wood, then set it on water and see where it turns. It should point to magnetic north. Why? Are you going to do something similar?”

“Incredibly similar. This does and doesn’t work for all cases, mind you. It depends on if the artifact is anywhere near where it needs to be. I have to be in the right general location first. Anything over a hundred miles, say, it becomes dicey. I don’t always get the correct result.” I’d learned that the hard way, but I chose not to get sidetracked into that story. It was more a saga, really, and better told while drunk. Or stuck on a very boring train. “What I do is put the artifact on a board, let it float on water, and then charge the artifact enough that it has the energy to move. The later step is what I dislike about the process. I have to give it considerable energy, which is draining. The last time I did this, I took a four-hour nap afterward.”

“Woke up enough to eat dinner, smiled at all of us, and then promptly went back to bed, where she slept another twelve hours.” Flo sighed at the memory. “I think she’d have kept sleeping if Nozomi hadn’t bounced on her stomach and forced her awake.”

Come to think of it, I still hadn’t properly paid Nozomi back for that. I must remember to enact revenge, now that it was nicely cold and ready to be served.

“It’s that draining? Oh dear.” Dr. Warwick stepped ahead of us, opening the main door into the guesthouse. “I can see why you avoid it, then.”

“Oh, it’s worse in the sense that I can’t just rest for a few days after I do it, which is my inclination.” I gave him a nod in thanks as I went through the door. “It’s inevitably followed up by something athletic like spelunking. Or rappelling. Or some other sweat-inducing nonsense. I still want someone to explain to me why all the ancient peoples liked to put shrines on the top of mountains or the bottom of ravines. There’s far too many of them in those locations.”

Flo, because she was evil, stated with confidence, “I bet mountain this time.”

“You’re only saying that because we’re surrounded by them, and bite your tongue. Whatever I have to climb, you have to climb. Remember that.”

“I’d prefer climbing a mountain over rappelling into a ravine.”

I grimaced, my nose scrunching up. “You do have me there. Ah, that must be some of the supplies. Glena is quite quick. Dr. Warwick, if I could enlist your help?”

“Of course.”

With their help, I was able to set up the basin in the parlor without trouble. Dr. Warwick fetched water from outside. Fortunately we didn’t need to fill the basin all the way, only enough for the wood to freely float. I wasn’t sure what Glena handed me for the wood, but it was sanded smoothly on all sides. I had no chance to ask her questions, as she didn’t linger. A cutting board, perhaps? Either way, it had the width and length to hold the mask, which was all I really needed.

James followed Dr. Warwick in with a bucket of water and, too curious to leave us alone, chose to stay and observe as well. I requested of him, “Whatever direction the mask leans, mark it with the compass. That’s the direction we’ll head for tomorrow.”

“Not today?”

“I won’t have the energy to move today. I’ll be dead asleep shortly after I do this, trust me. We’ve also lost half the day due to that moron’s actions, and I think for this we’ll need every ounce of daylight we can manage.”

“Just where do you think it’ll point us, if you’re saying that?”

“The least convenient place possible. I only say that based on previous experience. Nothing about these artifacts is ever easy.” I cracked my neck from side to side, then shook out my hands for good measure. Contemplated my life choices for a moment. Considered alcohol and the merits of doing this tipsy. Disregarded it as a bad idea.

I admit I was stalling. This exercise was unpleasant in the extreme, okay? No one would willingly do this unless it was the last resort.

I glanced around the room. “Everyone braced for when I pull the mask out of the box?”

A chorus of assents answered me.

“Good. As soon as Arthur brings it in, we’ll start.”

As if in answer, Arthur entered the room at that moment, his tread heavier than normal with the weight of the box in his hands. He sat it down at my feet, then undid the ropes, taking the top off.

“Ready, Arwen?”

“As I’ll ever be. You’ve got the gloves on?”

“I do.”

“Good. Just in case I collapse, you put the mask promptly into the box.”

He paused in setting the lid aside, genuine alarm in his voice as he looked up at me. “You’re not going to collapse, are you?”

“I hope not, but I plan for the worst, you know that.”

Dr. Warwick, gentleman that he is, promised, “I’ll catch you if you falter.”

“I appreciate that. All right, Arthur, let’s get that mask out.”

He grumbled under his breath as he did so, most of it complaining about my methods. I ignored him.

As soon as the box lid was off, I reached in and plucked it out. The song started playing in my mind almost immediately and I fixed the mask with a stern look. “Stop that. Right now. I’m not putting you on. Now, if you want me to place you in your own land again, then cooperate and show me the right direction.”

It faltered a little, the hum of the song dying down.

Just how sure were we, really, that this mask wasn’t sentient? I truly was beginning to question it, based on its recent behavior.

With a weather eye on it, I started the arduous process of instilling the mask with energy.

I’ve tried, over the years, to explain to people what this feels like. I’d not come up with a good metaphor yet. It was rather like holding a live electric wire—on purpose—for an extended time. It overloaded my nerves in the most unpleasant, buzzing way possible, making me grit my teeth in discomfort. It was also incredibly draining, as if my energy was being sucked from me. At first, it didn’t feel like much of anything was amiss, but the longer I did this, the dizzier I felt, the more lightheaded I became.

The mask, on the other hand, became even more vibrant in my mind’s eye, but different than when it sucked energy from its host. That was robbed energy, and it was apparent in the way it gleamed, like reflected light. This time, the mask was almost blinding in its intensity, reveling in the energy willingly shared. It only proved to me that the mask was very much a tool, crafted for purpose, not something meant for ill. It wasn’t created to become a soul-sucking vampire.

I was on a fine line between knowing the mask had enough energy to work with and wanting to stop feeding it energy just because I didn’t want to give it anything more. I gritted my teeth, trying to bear it. Almost there.

Almost.

So close.

Actually, I was calling it good. The mask was practically radiating satisfaction, it was so pleasantly filled. Little stone mosquito golem that it was.

I cut my energy down to almost a thread—I sadly couldn’t cut it off completely. If I wanted to guide the mask’s behavior and keep it energized enough to work with, then I had to remain semi-connected to it.

I carefully set the mask down on the wood, situated so that it was perfectly centered and balanced. Satisfied with its positioning, I put it down into the water.

I waited a moment to let it orient itself and gather its bearings. Then I commanded it sternly, “All right. Show me the direction. Where do you want to be?”

Another pause, then the mask moved with deliberation, the entire board floating directly toward the top end of the basin. It was too concise a motion to be mistaken for anything else.

Dr. Warwick jumped a little. “It’s like one of those godforsaken Ouija boards!”

And what parlor games have you been playing, sir? “Not unlike it. James, the direction?”

“Almost due north. Just a touch west from here.”

Interesting. We’d been heading in that general direction this morning, in fact, although more west than north.

“Do you know,”—Dr. Warwick’s voice rose in excitement—“I think that aligns with the Great North Road?”

I cut off all energy to the mask, my head spinning in a lazy rotation, not unlike the room had been put on a top and spun with a quick jerk of the wrist. I held myself steady through sheer willpower. Not yet. I had to get the mask into the box before I could collapse in a bed and sleep this off.

“Great North Road?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, Mr. Wetherill mentioned it last night when he and I were chatting. They’ve only ever found a portion of it—of course time has erased most of it—but there’s a twelve- to thirty-foot-wide road with a berm on either side. Several Great Houses and shrines sit along it. Mr. Wetherill suspects the road went much farther than what he can currently prove—the Anasazi were apparently great lovers for wide, straight roads—but the road is so eroded it’s hard to find any trace of it after a certain point. If I’m not mistaken, it would be along this direction.”

Now that was interesting. Something I’d follow up on more properly when I woke back up. For now, though, I put the mask back into the box and wearily gestured for Arthur to tie it shut. Actually, on second thought… “Dr. Warwick, do follow up with Mr. Wetherill about this. Get as much information as you can. We might well be going along that road tomorrow.”

“I can do that. Ms. Arnoult, you look absolutely done in. Pardon me for saying so, but I’ve seen better complexions on wax figurines.”

I had no doubt. “I’m—”

Head spinning, I could feel myself fall as my balance faltered.

Quick as lightning, James caught me around the shoulders, his hold firm. He smelled like the sun and the faintest hint of tobacco, a not unpleasant aroma.

“Miss Arwen, why don’t I take you to your room?” he offered gently.

I held on to him, letting my head rest against his shoulder. I trusted his strength far more than mine at that moment. “Please do. Flo, can you assist me?”

“I’m right here with you. Everyone, clean this up, and not a word this time outside of a locked room.”

I let them manage themselves. They were grown adults, after all; they should be able to do so swimmingly. I didn’t even try to give any last-minute directions, just allowed James to lift me into his arms. I felt like the fainting damsel in distress in one of those dreadful dime novels. I probably resembled one, too, for that matter. Flo was right at my side as James brought me out of the room and up the stairs. As we ascended, I only could think of one more thing to say.

“James?”

“Yes, miss?”

“If that thrice-cursed mask even tries to sing to someone, or spin any stones, or do anything other than lay in the box and be good, you have my permission to shoot it.”

He gave an earthy chuckle. “With pleasure, miss.”

I did so like him.

Twenty-Two

We once again left early the next morning. For safety and expediency reasons, James left his horse at the Triangle Bar Triangle and chose to ride with all of us in the truck. He rode shotgun, gun across his lap, just waiting for trouble.

Not knowing what we’d be getting into, we had all sorts of climbing gear, shovels, lanterns, assorted tools, and such packed into the back of the truck. We’d also stocked up on healing charms, just in case, and simple protection charms. Not to mention fuel. I had no idea what we’d be dealing with. A simple direction of north by northwest could only tell us so much. Even Mr. Wetherill could only hazard a guess, and he knew far more of this area and the Anasazi than anyone else. Hardly comforting.

I felt drained after yesterday. I’d eaten heartily, slept as much as I’d liked, and still felt as though I’d recovered from a bad cold. It had that lingering effect in my bones. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to do anything too athletic today.

We drove and drove, the way oddly straight without much of anything to bar our way. I saw what Mr. Wetherill meant by the Anasazi being oddly obsessed with straight roads. Even thousands of years later, these roads still somehow remained clear, even if they were mostly lost to sand and time. Helpful, no doubt about that.

The terrain became rockier, losing its flatness and slowly bumping up into foothills. I internally groaned. Please no mountains. Please? I’d been good this year. I deserved no mountains.

“Arwen, we’ve got mountains,” Arthur reported, still steadily driving.

“I’m living in the land of denial,” I responded grumpily. “I see no mountains.”

“The mountains you don’t see are getting quite tall.”

I eyed the back of his head, promising myself he’d pay for that sarcasm later. I went with the practical question instead. “How far up can we drive?”

“Not much farther. It’s hard to judge the distance out here, but I’d say another hour, max.”

Flo made a noise of dismay. “That leaves an awful lot for us to climb.”

I still maintained it was better to climb a mountain than to go down a ravine. Mostly because climbing back up a ravine was a great deal of exhausting work. At least on a mountain, you could stop and rest. I leaned my head against the window and switched briefly to my magical sight to see if anything remotely looked like a sacred area. Ruins? Possible caves? It all looked like sloping mountainside to me, though. It wasn’t like there were trees to block the view, either. There was little in the way of anything on this soil, not even scrub brush.

Why would the mask want to come here? I could hardly just toss it on top of the mountain and call it good. Would I need to bury it, like I’d planned to do at the pinnacle?

We drove farther along, the truck bouncing more and more as the flat terrain fell behind, leaving us with nothing more than rocky foothills. Even I could tell that we’d left the area that could be driven as Arthur reluctantly pulled to a stop.

“Arwen, we really have to walk the rest of the way from here.”

“I agree.” Well, at least today was marginally cooler than yesterday. I chose to count my blessings.

We unloaded, and I carefully made my way to the back of the truck. I wanted to know what the mask was doing. I also hesitated to lug it in the box up this mountain. It would be awkward in the extreme to carry, unless the men could fashion some sort of sling to put on someone’s back.

Nozomi asked, “Are we climbing from here? We’ll need to take camping gear, just in case. I’m not sure if we can get back down before nightfall.”

“I second that concern. We’ll pack light, as I have no desire to haul everything up, especially if it turns out we don’t need it.”

“Agreed. How much climbing gear do you want?”

“Let me ask the mask first.”

“You know, it worries me that I no longer blink when you say things like that.”

I grinned at her and shrugged. “Hazards of the profession?”

“Oh, it’s definitely that. Really, though, I wonder if you do things like this on purpose just to make us believe you know what you’re doing.”

I put a hand to my heart and mock-reeled. “How dare you question my genius!”

“A-chan, as your childhood friend, I remember you second-guessing yourself on a regular basis,” she pointed out with ruthless logic.

“I have embraced my imposter syndrome, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, so now you’re reveling in fooling everyone?”

“I am the Trickster Goddess!”

Nozomi snorted. “More like the Imposter Child for Deception and Clever Ruses. All right, Imposter Child, get to it. Be the Mask Whisperer you were born to be.”

“Bite your tongue. I want nothing to do with an Anasazi mask ever again.”

Of course Flo had to throw her two cents in. “You said that about the glass dagger, if memory serves.”

“You’ll note I haven’t touched a glass dagger since.”

Friend that she was, she just laughed.

I caught myself on a side rail and hauled my body up and inside the back of the truck. It was packed in here with all the equipment, but I was able to scoot sideways and reach the box. It took me only a few minutes to untie the top, the ropes not difficult to undo.

The mask was oddly quiet, just lying inside as if it didn’t have a care in the world. I eyed it with supreme distrust. Why was it being so agreeable? Was it my promise of taking it properly home that had done it? Had it given up trying to seduce any of my party into donning it? Despite the fact it had a mouth, it wasn’t willing to divulge anything. Now, I ask you, what was the purpose of it having a mouth if it wasn’t going to say anything?

Not that it would have done any good, anyway. I wasn’t even sure what language the Anasazi had spoken. Certainly not English or Japanese, and those were the only two languages I spoke.

I lifted it out carefully and held it much like one would a dowsing pendulum. Where would you like to go? What direction are you needing? I hoped this method worked, since I was so much closer to the goal line. Or I trusted I was after driving for most of the day.

The mask might have pulled ahead and a touch down? I wasn’t sure about that last part, just that it was scenting forward like a dog would after spying a bone.

“Forward, eh?” I muttered as I put the mask back in the box. “So, we’re not there yet. I’ll keep hauling you along.”

Arthur’s head popped inside. “What’s the verdict?”

“Forward.”

“Ah. Well, we rather expected that. All right, let’s sort out what essentials we need.”

We’d more or less anticipated that something like this might happen, so preparations had been made while I’d napped. Everyone had a rucksack with one change of clothes, a bedroll, a lantern, two canteens of water, food, and eating utensils. Dr. Warwick offered to shoulder the burden of the mask. Since he was more fit than anyone else aside from perhaps James, we let him. Two straps, crossed at angles over his shoulders, situated it comfortably enough. He kept his rucksack on the front.

It took a bare half hour to settle everything enough and then we were off, climbing steadily up the mountain. We found no trail, no evidence that anyone had been this way or was even remotely interested in doing so. While that made the way up harder on us, it was also heartening. I wanted to put the mask where no one would even think to look for it. This was really quite promising.

The grade of the mountain wasn’t particularly steep from this side, but it was a steady thirty-five- to forty-five-degree angle, making it interesting to climb. No one wasted their breath on chitchat; it was too hot for that, the sun relentlessly pounding us from above. I could feel sweat trickle down my forehead and the small of my back, an unpleasant sensation under my clothes. I drank from the canteen sparingly and focused solely on climbing. I kept a hand on Arthur’s elbow, using him as a guide to go up, as I couldn’t see any tricky spots or jutting rocks well enough to avoid stumbling over them on my own.

The hours wore on as we ascended. We made steady progress, to the point that by mid-afternoon, we’d reached the summit. I felt like cheering. Surely that meant I could dig a hole, put the mask inside, and be done with it all.

I knew better than to assume that, though. I paused long enough to sip some water, then gestured for Dr. Warwick to put the box down. “I need the mask again.”

“Of course. I would think it would be quite happy here, though.”

“Let’s double-check that theory. If it’s not, then it’ll create an earthquake right here and we’ll be sent tumbling back down. That’s a life experience I’d rather forgo.”

He made a sound of dismay. “Surely not.”

“My first, hard-won lesson with artifacts was this: Assume absolutely nothing.”

Arthur had the top off in a jiff—really, he’d had too much practice at this—and I pulled the mask out once again, holding it by the leather straps like a dowsing rod. This time, the result was sharp and unmistakable.

Down.

Not only down, but over there and down.

I groaned. I did not just climb a mountain only to need to rappel into a ravine. Please tell me that wasn’t the case.

There was a pause from the watching audience before James drawled, “Now, I’m no expert, miss. But that does seem to indicate down and a touch more north to me.”

“You are sadly correct, James.” I eyed the mask. That urge to just chuck it into the ravine was back. With a vengeance. “Someone tell me, how steep is the slope on the other side?”

Nozomi went over to check, peering down with a hand shielding her eyes. “Hmm, looks even more steep than what we just climbed. There’s this dip in the mountain, then another rise… Just at the base of the rise, there’s a sheer drop into a ravine that bottoms out into flat terrain again. From here, I can almost see a dark hole in the side. There might be a cave or something.”

A cave?

Dr. Warwick cleared his throat. “Ancient peoples often believed that the tops of the mountains were holy places, while caves led down into the underworld. Just as sacred, but with a different purpose. I wonder if the mask wishes to be in the cave for that reason? Or if there is a burial site down there?”

“Odds are good it’s something along those lines.” I cast about, glancing up at the sun. “Do we have enough daylight to get down there?”

“I think so,” Arthur said. “Rappelling down will be relatively fast. It’s climbing back up here that will be time consuming.”

True enough. But that was a problem for tomorrow’s me. Today’s me needed to get the mask off my hands.

“All right.” I blew out a breath. “Let’s get down there.”

Anyone with anchors and rope pulled them out of their packs. I had the hammer, so I fetched that and handed it over to Arthur.

James caught my attention with a hand on my elbow, and there was a touch of hesitation to his words as he asked, “Miss, can you rappel unassisted?”

Aww, bless the man to be worried about me. “I can, sir, no worries. This is one of those things I can manage just fine. Climbing back up as well. I learned how to do it the first year I was in this business, out of necessity. I’ve sadly had to do it too many times over the past few years.”

“How many times?”

“I’ve lost count. Ridiculous as that sounds. Okay, who’s leading the way?”

Nozomi volunteered, and since she was the best climber out of all of us, we were happy to send her down first. It took coordination, of course, and we had to anchor ourselves as we went, but we managed the first leg of it without issue and quite speedily, all things considered.

Then we had to retrieve the rope, hike over the flat section connecting the two ridges, and set up to do it all over again.

This time, the challenge was in the height we’d be going down. A single length of rope was insufficient to reach the base—everyone agreed on that—so we’d have to switch between different ropes. Tricky, but manageable. The one who struggled the most was James, who had never done this before. Still, rappelling wasn’t hard, and the basics could be taught in a matter of minutes. If I wasn’t drained half to death and tired, I would have enjoyed it.

We went one by one, going down with some space between each other so we didn’t have a traffic jam somewhere along the way.

The soil was looser here, kicking up little puffs of dust in the air as my boots skimmed the earth. I could feel the grime lingering on my skin and mouth, which made me long for a good soak in a bath. Later. I’d have that later. I had no idea how far I was when I could hear Dr. Warwick stop abruptly above me.

“Holy—!”

Afraid he was in trouble, I stopped and called up to him, “Is all well, Doctor?”

“Quite well,” he assured me hastily but also a touch absently, as if his attention was somewhere else. “Sorry to alarm you, but I just found something interesting. There’s wood here.”

I blinked up at him. Wood. From what, pray tell? There wasn’t a single tree anywhere within sight. “Wood?”

“And it’s not just here, it’s built into the rockface, secured here. By all that’s holy, do you know what this is? There were stairs here.”

My jaw dropped. “I beg your pardon?”

“There were stairs here. I’d bet my teaching position on it. This was a path the Anasazi used; they crafted a way toward the base. The insert of each notch is perfect for stairs. It’s perfectly in line with the road, did you realize that?”

No, I hadn’t. With all the climbing, rappelling, and moving about we’d done, I hadn’t kept track of which direction we’d been moving. I’d assumed we were still heading northward because the mask was pointing that direction, and that’s all I’d cared about. “Are you sure?”

“Perfectly. I’ve been tracking our position all this while, as I promised a full report to Mr. Wetherill upon our return. Miss Arnoult, I know the mask said to go this way, but I can safely guarantee that we really are moving in the right direction. This is evidence enough to my mind.”

I smiled up at him, although of course he couldn’t see it. “I’m relieved to hear it. Is there much of it?”

“Barely anything, really, small enough to fit inside my palm.”

“Then tuck that wood away for later evidence, would you? We’ve got to reach the bottom before all light fails us.”

“I’ve got it in my pocket.”

The smile lingered as I continued my path down. This wasn’t a quick trip; it took time to reach the bottom—a good hour at the very least, although that was only my guess. I was quite relieved to reach the bottom, I can tell you that, and conversely worried about the return trip. It would be much harder to go up.

Surely there was another path back to the truck? No, likely not. I resigned myself to the inevitable.

The area here was very flat, Nozomi had not been wrong about that. Washed out, as well—I could feel the looseness of the soil. No doubt that when it did rain, the water all came down here and then flowed from the mountain. I walked away from the mountainside, joining Nozomi as she studied the base.

“There, see?” She pointed ahead, where two very large cave openings appeared in the rock. “I was right. That’s a cave. Deep, too, the darkness is quite thick. Do you think the mask will like it if we stick it in there?”

Oh.

Oh my.

Well, I could see why the Anasazi believed this place sacred. The energy pouring out of those caves was strong, earthy in a sense I had never experienced before. It wasn’t a particular color but a gestalt of them all, with darkness and light interwoven. It was raw, primal, and made the fine hairs on my neck and arms stand straight up. If someone was narrating my life right now, they would likely say something along the lines of, ‘Oh yes, going into the abandoned cave known to be a spiritual place for an ancient people that liked to throw earth around is a fabulous idea and there is no way for that to possibly go wrong!’

What it said about me that I was studying this cave knowing I’d be going into it, I wasn’t willing to question just then.

It wasn’t just the dark mouth of the cave. When I switched over to my magical sight, the sight that greeted my eyes was intense. Not bright as a supernova, say, but powerful. I’d equate the difference to seeing lightning far off in the sky or standing right next to it when it hit the earth. You could feel the heat burning along your skin, smell the ozone as it filled your lungs; it had that power and impact on your body. The energy was so akin to the mask, too, that there was no doubt in my mind where it should be. The reddish-brown color of the artifact had grown deep in tone, so saturated it was almost blood-red.

Nozomi bumped my arm with hers. “Arwen?”

“Mi-chan,” I managed around a dry mouth, “the mask is going to love it in there.”

There was a pause as she digested this. “That’s not a normal cave, is it?”

“No. Very much no.”

“On a scale of weirdness from one to ten—ten being insane—where does it fall?”

“I’m going with a twenty on this.”

“Right. You understand that as much as I love you, I’m not going in that cave, right?”

“I don’t want you in that cave. I’m not sure if anyone should follow me in there, frankly. I’d use the golems for this if we hadn’t left them in the truck. The only thing that might protect me from whatever is going on in there is the mask, which I’m returning.”

Dr. Warwick arrived with a thump and a sigh of relief. “Finally down. Oh, there are caves, perfect. Ah, Miss Arnoult? That’s a very interesting expression on your face.”

I was too busy staring at the insane energy pouring out of the cave to formulate words.

Nozomi rapidly filled him in.

He sounded intrigued rather than afraid. “That’s likely why the mask drew us here.”

“No question. Also, we’re not going in. Only Arwen and the mask are.”

“Oh dear, is it dangerous?”

“Unless you have untapped potential that you’re hiding from us, Doctor, trust me. You won’t want to test your mortality against something like this.”

I felt this urge to move, to not stand here and wait for the others to get down. Dr. Warwick had the mask still strapped to his back and I turned to him, urgently pulling at the box’s straps. “Give that to me.”

“Shouldn’t we wait?”

“No. This is not a place where we should stay. I want to be out of this area as quickly as we can manage.”

“But we’ve only got maybe two hours of daylight left!”

“And we’ll use those two hours to put distance between us and there.”

He was puzzled but still cooperative enough to lower the box and help me get the lid off. I wasted no time in gathering the mask out and, for once, wasn’t worried about it trying to adhere to my face. Nozomi lit a lantern for me, and I took it in a white-knuckled grip.

To them, and to Flo, who was just touching down, I issued firm instructions. “I’m going in alone, absolutely do not follow me. If I’m not back within an hour, run.”

Dr. Warwick didn’t like the sound of this at all. “Miss Arnoult, I must protest! If it’s that dangerous, then surely you shouldn’t go in!”

It was hard to explain what I saw, to equate it to something he could wrap his head around. Still, I had to try. I didn’t want someone suffering because I’d failed to convey this all properly. “Have you ever seen a hurricane, Doctor?”

“I have, yes. Why?”

“You know how the sky looks before it comes, that strange hue of color, the way the wind picks up and the air feels so heavy, like it’s pressing against your very lungs with every breath?”

“Yes…?”

“That’s more or less the scale of what I’m looking at. Is it imminent, will it unleash incredible force to destroy everything in its wake? Or will it just pass me by and let me go unscathed? I can’t begin to tell you. But no one sane walks into the path of a hurricane.”

“You say that,”—the words were strangled—“but you’re about to do that very thing.”

“She’s not sane,” Flo assured him, sounding every level of resigned. “All right, Arwen, one hour. Do try to be back faster than that.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ll get in and out as quickly as possible.”

I kept a grip on the mask only by the leather straps, turned on my heel, and walked steadily toward the mouth of the cave. My survival instincts assured me with every step that this was a marvelously terrible idea and they would disown me if I didn’t turn back. It said something about me that I ignored them and kept walking anyway.

The mask, on the other hand, practically vibrated with every step toward the cave, reacting like a dog promised an entire steak, so energetic and eager that it was amusing to watch. I’d have laughed if the situation had been any different.

The force of the energy flowing over me didn’t feel like I was walking upstream, per se, but it did increase in strength. Cloyingly so, not unlike being wrapped in multiple layers of steaming blankets.

People had built steps to come here? On purpose?

I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought.

My foot crossed the boundary between sunlight and shadow, and the entire cave gave a shimmer. A visible shimmer. I wish I exaggerated. It didn’t move so much as…well, I imagine an age-old goliath would look like this upon waking. As if stretching to get the blood flowing again. It didn’t feel antagonistic, more curious. I hoped I registered that feeling correctly.

I wasn’t walking into the belly of the beast, was I?

Fifteen feet inside and I just couldn’t make myself walk any farther. Everything in me rebelled at stepping foot in this place. The fine hairs on my arms were standing on end, and a tremble invaded my limbs. My instincts screamed at me to get out. This was not a place for me to be in. I wished I could just drop the mask and run, but I didn’t think it wise. My hindbrain would just keep gibbering in panic, was all. I kept the lantern low to avoid blinding myself but lifted the mask up high.

Again, I didn’t think speaking English would make me understandable, but I hoped tone and body language would convey what I needed. “I’ve come to return this.”

There was a weighty pause. On both our ends.

Then energy gathered, slowly at first, like an avalanche just starting to gather speed. It flowed down the walls, rose through the floor in a visible ripple, swirling and churning, a riptide of stone. Incredible to witness, and I stood rooted to the floor, eyes wide as I watched it churn like butter. I wasn’t surprised the stone could melt and form without heat applied. The energy alone in this mountain could rearrange the landscape of this entire area if it was so inclined.

What rose from the floor was a pedestal, lifting some three or so feet into the air. The energy swirled with it, flowing and shaping it, like a giant set of fingers at a potter’s wheel. The pedestal was flat on the top, perfectly so, the sides sloped like a mushroom’s. The movement stopped abruptly, even the energy stilling. Not dissipating, just halting in place with a light thrum, clearly in waiting mode. That looked like a ‘put it here, please’ to me.

I cautiously approached and laid the mask oh-so-gently onto the stone. Then, just as carefully, I stepped four feet back. Contemplated another forty feet.

The pedestal whirled again, the sides of it rising up and covering the mask in a single tidal wave, then disappeared again right into the floor without a single sign of it ever having been there. Even the energy was banked again and out of sight. I almost believed I’d hallucinated the whole thing, that’s how natural the stone floor looked under my feet.

I stared at that spot with growing alarm but also satisfaction. The mask was decidedly no longer my problem. I also never wanted to see a cave like this again. Ever.

The energy of the cave abated, receding back into the walls, no longer as obvious or terrifying. I relaxed a hair and gave it a smile. At least, I tried for a smile. It felt decidedly strained on my face. “You’re welcome.”

Okay, time to leave. Past time to leave. I turned on my heel and beat hasty feet out of the cave.

Out of the cave, out of the cave, out of the cave. Yay, daylight! Good, now even farther because I was not spending the night anywhere near here. I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink.

Arthur met me partway, a hand extended. “You were barely in there twenty minutes. No mask, so I assume it went well? What did you do, just drop it and run?”

“Didn’t need to drop it. The cave took it.”

“The cave…took it…” he repeated, as if waiting for those words to make sense.

“I’ll be happy to explain as we walk farther away. Much farther away. We are not making camp anywhere near the cave that likes to eat things.”

“Wait, eat things? It ate the mask?”

I got both hands on his back and pushed him, getting him into motion. “It ate the mask. I’m not sticking around long enough to find out if it will eat people too. Move, Arthur, we’re not camping anywhere near this cave. If there’s an alternate route up and out of here other than climbing, we’re taking it.”

Nozomi called to us, “Mask is gone, so that’s good, but what happened?”

“I’ll explain as we go. Go, go, go!” I urged them.

I didn’t care if I had to walk two days around the mountain’s base to get back to the truck. I was not tempting fate by going anywhere near that cave again.

Some questions were best left academic.

Also, if anyone cared to ask, yes, this was worse than the serial killer knife. No more masks. I stood firm on this.

Epilogue

Some might argue that Los Angeles was also in a desert and not much different than New Mexico. I can assure you, that was not the case. Los Angeles was decidedly more hospitable with its ocean breezes, palm trees, and water sources. Not to mention the sun was far kinder to us here than it had been in Chaco Canyon. Anyone who disagreed with me was welcome to come and argue the point. I’d sit in my chair on the outside patio, enjoying the ocean breeze, and debate them into submission.

We’d been home a full week at this point. I’d spent a week at Sani’s with Arthur, learning a great deal from the man. Not why he’d called me a catalyst, though; he’d just given me vague responses when I asked. Still, it had been time very well spent. Also thrilling, to be around someone who saw the world much like I did. I loved speaking to someone who just understood without me going into in-depth explanations or convoluted metaphors. I’d loved every moment with him.

When I did make it home, my father had demanded every detail of the job, as he always did, fascinated by the strange and historic. My love of history came honestly from my father. He was happy to meet James, who was just as happy to be gainfully employed once again, even if I did promise him more danger than safety some days. My mother initially didn’t know what to make of James. He did come off as a ‘rough character’ at first, especially with his background. After the first few days, she saw that he was utterly polite and watchful of me. After that she had a very favorable impression of him and liked that I now had additional protection on the team. Flo assured me he liked his new room and had already bought a painting from a market and hung it up, so he was settling in nicely.

Also flirting with our cook, who had been widowed for three years now. While my eyes may not work in ‘normal’ ways, that didn’t make me blind. I’d seen those flirtations in the kitchen. Don’t think I hadn’t.

Nozomi, of course, was back to tinkering with the vehicles. She’d said something about ‘a way to make the truck bed lighter and with better shocks’ and then disappeared into the garage. Her father was right there with her, and I heard many happy bangs, curses, and growls about stubborn metal floating in the air. I assumed them happy, at least—they’d been doing this off and on for ten years already.

All in all, I was happy to be home, to have my people resting and without an immediate job on the horizon. I was in no rush to be out the door just yet, either, although that moment would come. My desire to get back to work normally hit somewhere around week three of being home.

I could hear Flo’s steady tread mixed with the flap of her skirt as she approached. “Mail for you, Arwen.”

“Good or bad?”

“Seems good, for the most part. A telegram from Director Downes that assures you the final check is in the mail. He’s quite pleased with how everything worked out and said your report was beautifully written.”

I snorted at the irony, as Flo had written it. I’d only dictated parts. “Take the compliment.”

“Oh, I have, trust me. He’s also hired on Dr. Warwick as a consultant, he says, which I thought interesting. Consultant for Incan matters or Anasazi?”

“Well, Dr. Warwick can hardly be an expert on Anasazi, but it’s true that if he’d been consulting for them when the mask first came into the museum, it would never have been miscategorized. I think that was a smart move for the museum as a whole. At the very least, Dr. Warwick will be able to detect if something is of Anasazi make and know who to consult, so it’s really double gain for the money.”

“I quite agree.” Flo took the wicker chair near me, settling in comfortably. “A bill for a specialty part for the truck—did Nozomi tell you she ordered something?”

“I’m sure it slipped her mind. As usual.”

“You really do indulge her with that truck.”

“She’s yet to make a bad decision with it, so who am I to complain? Is that all?”

“No, there’s a letter here as well.” Flo paused a beat, and I could see her flip it back and forth. “Arwen, unless I’m mistaken, there’s dried blood on this envelope.”

“Dried blood,” I repeated with a groan. “Well, that heralds nothing good. Sender?”

“A Miss Edwina Bartholomew in Michigan.”

I urged her to open it and read it. It might not be anything good, but I was too curious to let it lie.

Flo ripped it open with a single finger, then took the letter out. “Hmm, only two pages, and her handwriting is so large and loose, I can tell she wrote this in a hurry. I wonder why not write a telegram?”

“Unless it was too much to convey in a telegram.”

“Quite possible. Well, this is what it reads:

Miss Arwen,

I understand you are the best in the business when it comes to the strange and possibly okult causing troubles. I’m afraid we have something of both here in my hometown, and I really don’t know who else to reach out to. Various pastors in the area have tried excor—what is this word? Oh, I think its exorcism—to no avail, and the situation grows more perilous dangerous by the day. I do not think this is possessed, per se, just very old and very powerful. A historian here swears it is of Viking make, but that makes no sense to me, and I’m not sure if it’s correct.

I am in Oscoda. Please do come with ALL speed. I can meet you at the train station and then take you to the artifact. I dare not know what to do if you can’t come. Whatever your fees, I will make sure you are paid.

Yours sincerely,

Edwina Bartholomew

I growled at the lack of concrete information. “At the very least, she could have sent a picture. A description. Something. Is it of Norse ilk or is it not?”

“The only way to know for sure is to go up there.” Flo put the letter back into the envelope. “It sounds like there’s no time to waste, either.”

She really had written that letter in a hurry if she didn’t even pause long enough to tell me what trouble this thing was causing. It spoke, rather more than words, of how urgent the situation was. I put my hands to the arms of the chair and pushed my way up. “I’ll fetch the one tinkering in the garage if you can start hunting down the others. We’ll leave in the morning. Also, send a telegram to Ms. Bartholomew assuring her that we are on our way and will be there as quickly as we can manage.”

“It’s all well and good to say that ‘we’ll leave in the morning,’ but Nozomi has that truck in a hundred pieces strewn across the garage right now!”

“Then she best put it back together in a hurry,” I returned, already heading off the patio. “It sounds like she’s completely out of time to tinker.”

Thanks for reading Rise of the Catalyst! Arwen’s journey has just begun, and there’s plenty of artifacts left to wrangle. Until next time!

Want more steampunk mystery? An FBI agent, a magical examiner, a royal mage, and a world of trouble. Though usually they’re the ones solving the trouble, Henri would like to make that clear. Check out The Case Files of Henri Davenforth HERE!

Shape-shifting dragons, mages, and time travel your jam? What about Chinese-based mythological creatures? Star-crossed lovers? If so, enter the world of the Tomes and start reading Tomes Apprentice HERE.

Who do you call when there’s a curse? A sorcerer? A mage? A witch? What if all of those people have failed to remove it?

Well, call for an artifactor, of course.

Check out The Child Prince HERE

Other books by Honor Raconteur
Published by Raconteur House

♫ Available in Audiobook! ♫

THE ADVENT MAGE CYCLE

Jaunten ♫
Magus ♫
Advent ♫
Balancer ♫

ADVENT MAGE NOVELS
Advent Mage Compendium
The Dragon’s Mage ♫
The Lost Mage♫

WARLORDS (ADVENT MAGE)

Warlords Rising
Warlords Ascending
Warlords Reigning

ANCIENT MAGICKS

Rise of the Catalyst

THE ARTIFACTOR SERIES

The Child Prince ♫
The Dreamer’s Curse ♫
The Scofflaw Magician♫
The Canard Case♫
The Fae Artifactor ♫

THE CASE FILES OF HENRI DAVENFORTH

Magic and the Shinigami Detective♫
Charms and Death and Explosions (oh my)♫
Magic Outside the Box♫
Three Charms for Murder
Grimoires and Where to Find Them
Death Over the Garden Wall

DEEPWOODS SAGA

Deepwoods♫
Blackstone
Fallen Ward
Origins
Crossroads
Jioni

FAMILIAR AND THE MAGE

The Human Familiar
The Void Mage
Remnants
Echoes

GÆLDORCRÆFT FORCES

Call to Quarters

IMAGINEERS

Imagineer
Excantation

KINGMAKERS

Arrows of Change ♫
Arrows of Promise
Arrows of Revolution

KINGSLAYER

Kingslayer ♫
Sovran at War ♫

SINGLE TITLES

Special Forces 01
Midnight Quest

THE TOMES OF KALERIA

Tomes Apprentice♫
First of Tomes♫
Master of Tomes

Author

Dear Reader,

Your reviews are very important. Reviews directly impact sales and book visibility, and the more reviews we have, the more sales we see. The more sales there are, the longer I get to keep writing the books you love full time. The best possible support you can provide is to give an honest review, even if it’s just clicking those stars to rate the book!

Thank you for all your support! See you in the next world.

~Honor

Honor Raconteur is a sucker for a good fantasy. Despite reading it for decades now, she’s never grown tired of the magical world. She likely never will. In between writing books, she trains and plays with her dogs, eats far too much chocolate, and attempts insane things like aerial dance.

If you’d like to join her newsletter to be notified when books are released, and get behind the scenes about upcoming books, you can click here: NEWSLETTER or email directly to honorraconteur.news@raconteurhouse.com and you’ll be added to the mailing list. If you’d like to interact with Honor more directly, you can socialize with her on various sites. Each platform offers something different and fun!