Chapter 4 Ben #3
“If you can head off a Mob war before the fall festivals, I’m all in favor,” Haley said. “I just moved here, and I’d like to keep the place intact. And I don’t scare off easily. Just call me whenever you need me.”
They thanked her profusely and paid extra for the session before heading out to the car.
“Do you think the stained glass has its own magic?” Ben asked as they drove home, nudging Erik out of his thoughts.
“If you had asked me before this, I would have said no,” Erik replied. “Now…I’m not sure. There are paintings and statues reputed to have magic, whether people call it that or credit divine intervention. Why not windows? Guess I need to do some research.”
“That name he gave us, the man in the haunted panel. It was Russian. Does that mean Bratva’s going to be involved?” Ben didn’t hide his worry.
“Maybe they were always going to turn up, and that just gave us an early warning,” Erik said. “Especially with someone who goes by ‘The Oligarch’ involved, I’m guessing there’s a long history.”
“And from what Samuels’s ghost said, ‘The Collector’ is from a rival crime family as well as rich and unethical,” Ben mused.
“Which shouldn’t be a surprise given the Commodore Wilson’s past. Over the years, there were Mafia-sponsored gatherings at the hotel using thinly-veiled aliases.” Erik drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I just feel like we’ve missed something, and I don’t want it to bite us on the ass.”
Ben glanced in the side mirror. “Still got the cop on our tail. I wonder what he makes of all this. We aren’t typical of what he’s probably used to shadowing.”
“We haven’t hit one bookie, gambling joint, or house of ill repute all week,” Erik replied.
“I used to be a private investigator, remember? That job definitely shows you the seamier side of life. I thought I was pretty jaded from being a cop, but being a detective takes that to a whole new level.”
“When I wasn’t dealing with greedy billionaires and dishonest art dealers, I was appraising art that had been bought with literal blood money,” Erik replied. “I might have seen a richer level of scum than you did, but I had a good reason for wanting to get out.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “So far, we haven’t gotten very far out.”
Erik shrugged. “We have unique skills, and if we want to keep our adopted town safe, we need to use those abilities. Great power, great responsibility, yada yada.”
“Yeah, I feel the same way. But it’s a lot more excitement than I bargained for,” Ben said.
Erik reached over and took his hand. “At least we’re in it together. That makes all the difference.”
Ben squeezed his hand. “Absolutely.”
Both had come to Cape May after disastrous breakups that had left them wondering if they would ever find the right partner. As far as Ben was concerned, Erik was worth all the danger.
Ben spotted the woman sitting on the steps when Erik parked the SUV. “Looks like we’ve got company.”
Trinkets’ magical protections responded to lock picking, attempts to break in by force or magic, and physical harm to the store.
That meant that packages and mail could still be delivered safely, and someone coming by with innocent intent after store hours could ring the doorbell or knock gently without getting whammied.
“Can I help you?” Erik asked as they approached the petite woman in a nun’s gray habit who rose as they approached.
“Erik Mitchell and Ben Nolan?” she asked. When they nodded, she extended her hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sister Mary Barbara from the St. Expeditus Society. We need to talk.”
Erik unlocked the door and released the physical and magical alarm systems. They welcomed Sister Mary Barbara into the shop, and Ben motioned toward the seats around a small table where Erik appraised new items.
“Please, have a seat,” Ben said. “Can we make you a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, but no. Maybe a glass of water,” Sister Mary Barbara replied.
Ben went to get the water as Erik and the sister took their seats. He joined them minutes later, and the nun sipped the water with a nod of thanks.
“Monty and Jon said we needed to talk to folks at the convent,” Erik said. “But you’ve beaten us to it.”
She laughed, and her eyes sparkled. “Hard to surprise folks who are seers and mystics. How much do you know about St. Expeditus by the Sea?”
Erik leaned back in his chair. “Probably not nearly as much as we should,” he admitted. “The building started out as a hotel and was reused a couple of times, including by the military during World War II, before becoming a convent.”
“A very unusual type of convent,” Ben joined in. “Taking in stray ghosts that aren’t ready to move on.”
Sister Mary Barbara smiled. “You’ve got the basics.
Over the years, we have come out of seclusion when the community needed us to help with emergencies, and during wartime we used our paranormal abilities to help the cause.
But we prefer to keep to our studies and intervene in a less public, more supernatural way. ”
“Do I take that to mean that you serve as guardians, after a fashion?” Erik asked.
She nodded. “In our own way. We can’t prevent all dangers, or keep away everything evil, but where we can give a nudge in the right direction, we try to make a difference.”
Ben found that idea vaguely reassuring.
“How did the convent coexist with the Commodore Wilson Hotel?” Erik asked. “You overlapped for most of a century.”
“The land beneath the Commodore Wilson is cursed.” Sister Mary Barbara confirmed something they already suspected. “When the Order of St. Expeditus purchased the building that became the convent, it did so with the purpose of being a counterbalance.”
She paused for a sip of water. “That was our larger mission—to be a guardian against the forces of darkness. We couldn’t heal the genius loci beneath the Commodore Wilson or stop everything bad from happening, but we have done our best to avert the worst possibilities and buffer that harmful energy for the sake of the community. ”
“Wow.” Erik looked sincerely impressed. “That’s a pretty impressive mission.”
She smiled at him. “Not so different from what the two of you have done since moving here, and how Trinkets has served Cape May since it opened.”
Ben was surprised at her comment, while Erik appeared thoughtful.
“Trinkets has always gotten dangerous magical items out of circulation, no matter who owned the shop,” she added.
“St. Expeditus is a sanctuary for troubled ghosts. Much like halfway houses for living people, we provide a place for them to heal and try to prevent them from becoming vengeful or troublesome.”
“There’s plenty of work like that to go around,” Erik replied. “Cape May has ghosts galore.”
“Ghosts and mobsters,” Sister Mary Barbara said. “Perhaps not as much as Wildwood or Atlantic City, but enough over the decades to weave them into the history of the town. We can’t put a psychic fence around Cape May to keep them out, but we do what we can to mitigate.”
Given the run-ins with the Mafia he and Erik had since moving to Cape May, Ben didn’t want to think what it would have been like without the nuns’ mitigation.
“Thank you,” Erik replied.
She shrugged off the comment. “It’s our mission. Our purpose. We are grateful to make a difference.”
“Were you aware of the energy in the Commodore Wilson’s Tiffany dome while the building still stood?” Ben asked. “Everything we’re dealing with seems to keep coming back to Tiffany windows.”
Sister Mary Barbara nodded. “We knew. It was a focal point for ill intent. While the hotel was standing, we did our best to drain the dome’s power. When the building was destroyed and the dome removed, it weakened the loci by taking away its nexus.”
“You don’t think the dome was demolished when they imploded the Commodore Wilson?” Erik asked.
“No. It was far too significant—both as art and as a magical artifact—for that to happen,” she said.
“There was a powerful storm at that time, much like what we’ve had lately.
Many people wanted to purchase the dome, but it came down to two obsessed men with Mafia money and connections.
We were barely able to avert a war, and even so, violence occurred. ”
“Do you know who ended up with the dome?” Ben questioned. “Because no one has seen it for more than thirty years.”
“No, and I don’t know where it is, although I’m certain it still exists. Someone with strong magic has wrapped it in spells to keep it hidden,” Sister Mary Barbara answered.
“What do you know about a dark witch named Arkadi Mikhailov?” Erik asked. “We got a tip from a ghost that he might have played a role in what’s unfolding.”
Her expression darkened. “He was not a good man. A very powerful witch, but he used his abilities to cause great harm. Why do you ask?”
Erik explained about the Tiffany stained-glass panel and the two murders related to it and possibly to the dome, as well as what they had gleaned from Samuels’s ghost earlier in the day at Haley’s séance.
“Grant Samuels was one of the people whose impact we tried to limit over the years,” she said. “We did our best to keep him out of Cape May’s affairs.”
“We know people who contain dangerous magical objects that can’t be destroyed,” Erik said. “As soon as the police chief lets us, we’ll be having them take the window and make sure it can’t hurt anyone again. We’ll send the dome on as well if we can find it.”
“We are aware of the Alliance and the Briggs Society,” Sister Mary Barbara said. “We also know Sorren, the honorable vampire who works with them. Our paths have crossed many times over the years.”
“Was the Tiffany dome magical in itself, aside from the energy it focused or absorbed from the genius loci?” Erik asked.
“I believe so. You of all people should know that artwork can be infernal as well as sacred.” She confirmed Ben’s suspicion that she knew their backgrounds.