of being watched was oppressive and overwhelming. I glimpsed faces in the shadows, human forms and glowing orbs.
“Run!” Caliel shouted. I smelled a whiff of pipe smoke and heard a dog bark angrily at the pursuing spirits, suggesting that Caliel had persuaded Papa Legba’s spirit to buy us time to escape.
We took the steps two at a time back to the main floor, and Sorren dropped back, swords in both hands, ready to fight. Teag and I were in front as we sprinted for the doorway with Caliel close behind. We were running flat out, anxious to be out of that cursed place. Sorren came last, though with his vampire speed he could have easily lapped us all.
We cleared the doorway to the outside and slammed the heavy metal door into place. Caliel used a flicker of magic to turn the deadbolt, although whether or not the things that pursued us would be slowed by something as mundane as steel was debatable.
Three out of five of the Watchers were already here. Two more, and all hell would break loose, “On the bright side,” Sorren said, “I’ve finally gotten through to the Briggs Society. Archie’s been around a time or two. He’ll have some ideas on this. Be ready to go at seven tomorrow night. The Briggs doesn’t wait for anyone.”
WE STOOD OUTSIDE a two-story brick building on the edge of the old part of town at seven o’clock the next night. An engraved bronze plaque by the door read, ‘Briggs Society. Explorers welcome. Ring bell’.
A day had passed since our adventure at the power plant, and I had barely regained my wits and nerve. But with Charleston on the brink of a supernatural apocalypse, none of us had time for a mental health day. So here Teag and I were with Sorren, on the front steps of a building I had often passed but never noticed, as an obnoxiously loud doorbell summoned attention from within.
“You really think this friend of yours can help?” I asked.
Sorren shrugged. “It won’t hurt to ask. Archie’s one of the few people who’s likely to realize something bad is going on.” The brick Georgian building looked staid for such things, but Sorren had taught me how much could hide behind a well-heeled facade.
Before I could ask any more questions, a man in an honest-to-goodness butler’s uniform came to the door. He looked like something out of Hollywood central casting, tall and lean, complete with a hang-dog expression.
“Password, please?” he asked in a cultured baritone.
“Hurly-burly,” Sorren replied without batting an eye. The butler nodded and stood aside.
“Welcome, Mister Sorren.” He looked Teag and me over. “Guests? I wasn’t told.”
“Cairo Protocol, Higgins,” Sorren replied without a pause. “Colonel Donnelly will understand.”
“Very well, sir. Right this way, sir.”
I felt as if I had stepped into the Victorian era. Everywhere I looked, the rooms were filled with treasures and mementos from around the world and from every culture and time period. African and Pacific Islander masks vied with Ming vases, Chinese statues, Japanese kimonos, and Samurai armor. In the center of the foyer, where most establishments would have put a nice table with a huge floral arrangement sat a taxidermied Percheron horse wearing full steel barding.
The foyer was a rotunda with an overhead dome ringed with windows that, while dark now, probably set the room in a bright glow during the day. Portraits hung on the walls dating back hundreds of years. I wondered if Sorren was a founding member, and if so, how he kept his true nature a secret. Then I took a second look at the paintings. I recognized some of the names. John Cabot, the explorer. Henry Hudson and George Bass, also explorers, along with Gaspar Corte-Real, and Sir John Franklin. Every one of them known for being daring explorers – and for disappearing without a trace.
Teag looked fascinated as we followed Higgins down a hallway. More portraits lined the walls; bronze castings, marble busts, and ornate Indian statues were showcased in nooks every few feet. I was certain that the Killim carpet beneath our feet was original and priceless. Although many of the doors we passed were closed, those that were not exposed equally well-appointed rooms filled with furnishings I recognized as antique and expensive. I was sure that I had glimpsed a couple of paintings thought to have been lost or destroyed in wars long past, and I longed to find out what the numerous glass display cases contained. The one case I