was close enough to peer inside held a very old, leather-bound book with the title My Story written by Virginia Dare. My eyes widened, but there was no time to ask questions to investigate. Even at a distance, curiosity warred with prudence, since my Gift warned me that many, if not most, of the objects carried supernatural power.
That’s when the name ‘Briggs’ connected for me. Benjamin Briggs had been the captain of the Mary Celeste, which was found floating and deserted in 1872, and no trace of Briggs, his family or the rest of the crew has ever been found. If there’s anyone who knows anything about people who vanish into thin air, it seems like we’ve come to the right place.
“This whole place is filled with Spookies and Sparklers,” Teag whispered. I wondered now how many of the items Sorren had ‘disposed’ of for us had found a permanent home here, and what made this fine old building a suitable containment area.
“In here, sir.” Higgins opened a door and stepped to one side. Sorren murmured his thanks and strode into the room, and with a glance and a shrug, Teag and I followed.
“Sorren, my good fellow. What brings you out tonight – with guests, no less?” The speaker was a florid-faced man who looked to be in his late sixties. Tall and raw-boned, everything from his elocution to his bespoke suit was utterly upper-crust. He stood in a well-appointed parlor. Dark wainscoting and hunter green paint gave the room a decidedly masculine feel, while the sculpted plaster ceiling, crystal chandelier, and antique Aubusson carpets softened the overall impression of the room. I was not surprised to find more exquisite paintings adorning the walls, along with a tapestry I judged to be several centuries old and likely Belgian in origin.
“May I present Colonel Archibald Donnelly,” Sorren said, and our host inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Colonel, this is Cassidy Kincaide and Teag Logan, my assistants.”
The Colonel nodded, and gestured toward a small seating area near the fireplace fitted with antique Delft tiles. “I don’t have anything on hand for you, Sorren, sorry to say, but can I offer either of you two a bourbon?”
Teag and I declined. Colonel Donnelly poured a drink for himself and sat down in a brocade wing chair. “Haven’t seen you around the Club in quite a while, Sorren. A few of the members have asked about you. Heard about the fire. Damned shame. Into a bit of trouble, I presume?” The Colonel lifted a shaggy eyebrow, and his blue eyes were clear and bright, with more than a hint of mischief. I was willing to bet he had been a hell-raiser in his younger days.
“You’ve felt the disturbances?” Sorren asked.
Colonel Donnelly snorted. “Hell’s bells, man. Of course I felt them! Wouldn’t be worth my salt as a necromancer if I hadn’t. Question is: what are you going to do about it?”
“Josiah Winfield’s ghost is back. So is Daniel Hunter. Someone is bringing Nephilim across, and several Watchers have already crossed over,” Sorren said. “At least a half a dozen people have vanished. Trouble’s brewing, and whoever is behind this is either nursing an old grudge or trying to get me out of the way. Maybe Sariel, back from the grave. We’re going to need high-powered help, Archie. That’s why I came to you.”
So many of the objects in the room carried such strong magic that it was difficult to keep my mind on the conversation. The parlor was filled with Victorian clutter: a terrarium full of mandrake, botanical drawings of flora and fauna I was pretty sure didn’t exist in the natural world, and a suit of armor that looked more like a space suit for a creature with decidedly non-human appendages.
If I concentrated, I could hear many of the items whispering to me, making me all kinds of promises if I would free them, trying to seduce me with flattery and visions. I folded my hands in my lap, determined not to touch anything. Teag’s attention seemed to be riveted on the tapestry, and when I looked at the large, intricately woven picture, I realized that it was chock full of magical sigils and symbols. It fairly glowed with power, and I couldn’t begin to imagine how it might look to Teag’s Weaver magic.
“Talk to me about Reapers and Watchers, Archie,” Sorren said. “Half a dozen or so men started down stairways and never reached the bottom. All had questionable backgrounds, but no convictions.