Chapter 8 Erik #3
Since the Awesome Autumn Festival raised money for the local library, museums, preservation work, and other causes, Erik didn’t begrudge being drafted into service and knew that under normal circumstances, Ben didn’t mind, either.
Before they left for their rendezvous with Sorren and the others, Erik got the haunted stained-glass panel out of the safe and put it in the back of the SUV.
He left it in the spell-dampening box with the protective blanket, but still felt uncomfortable.
“I’ll be glad to be rid of that thing,” Ben said, putting Erik’s thoughts into words. “I know it was all locked up with magic, but I felt like it was still watching us.”
Erik had wrestled with that same feeling despite knowing the wards on the safe were strong. He was just as happy to hand it off to Sorren along with the Tiffany dome.
Although they had just driven to Weston Hall earlier in the day, by night the road looked very different. Erik was grateful that the area around the abandoned hotel was sparsely developed, since hiding a truck large enough to remove the crates of window panels would be difficult even with magic.
A security light by the road did not reach all the way to the back of Weston Hall or the warehouse. None of the hotel’s lights were lit. Erik suspected that their friends might not need the illumination, but he and Ben definitely did, and they both wore night-vision goggles.
To his relief, the truck was already in place when they arrived. While it certainly wasn’t invisible, Erik realized that his gaze just seemed to slide away, and the vehicle didn’t stick in his memory, something he attributed to Rowan’s magic.
“Erik, Ben, happy to see you both in good health,” Sorren greeted them. “I’m sure you remember Rowan and Donnelly.”
Erik and Ben nodded, knowing that many people with magic preferred not to shake hands.
“We got ghostly confirmation that what we want is inside, but it’s going to be heavy and hard to move,” Erik told them. “And Ben and I will need light to keep from falling over ourselves.”
“We’ve got you covered.” Rowan murmured a spell, opening one of the big overhead doors and casting a glow inside. The truck had been backed up to the dock, ready to load.
“We brought a very trustworthy crew to load the crates,” she told them. “The truck and the crew are protected by magic.”
“Donnelly and I will go in first, with Erik and Ben behind us, and Rowan covering our backs,” Sorren said. “We’re harder to kill.”
Since Sorren was already technically undead, Erik guessed that was vampire humor.
The warehouse held a hodgepodge of equipment.
Mildewed cardboard boxes stacked against the back wall had disintegrated, spilling their contents onto the bare floor.
Rusted folding chairs and banquet tables were piled in another area.
From what Erik could make out, the long-forgotten items were what he would expect from a hotel and conference center, with the exception of the crates from the auction.
The witch light illuminated the area well enough to see where they were going but was unlikely to attract attention outside.
The crates from the Commodore Wilson were clustered near the door, delivered and forgotten.
They were all large and looked heavy. Erik tried to remember what other architectural pieces Bartolo had bought from the liquidation sale.
“Over there.” Erik pointed toward the tall, long boxes.
Donnelly approached the crates with caution, and Erik guessed that the necromancer was scanning for hostile magic.
“There’s definitely something going on with the dome.” Donnelly paused for a moment. “A redirection spell and perhaps something hiding it. Rowan, if you wouldn’t mind?”
They waited while Rowan looked over the crates and chanted a spell that Erik couldn’t quite catch.
“Done. It was already weakening, but you should be able to sense it now. Though that means anyone else looking for it can as well. The sooner we get it within the wards on the truck, the better.” Rowan stepped back, and Donnelly resumed his inspection.
“I suspect the dome’s magic has been weakened by so long without light or people around, so it may be dormant, for now.
The photos were beautiful, but there’s a darkness about the pieces.
” Donnelly frowned. “Subtle, but definitely real. If it’s still discernible after all this time, I’d hate to think what it was like installed where it got sunlight and exposure to people.
It definitely needs to go somewhere that can keep it, and everyone else, safe. ”
“I have the haunted window in a box in our SUV,” Erik reminded them. “I’ll hand it off when we’re ready to go.”
Donnelly’s head came up as if alerted to something only he could hear. Erik sensed that the ghosts of Weston Hall had taken notice of them.
“We mean you no harm,” Donnelly spoke into the darkness. “I’m sure having this stored here over the years was uncomfortable. We’ll take it away, and I’ll be glad to send anyone on who wants to go.”
Erik hadn’t thought about how the dome’s negative vibes might have affected the old hotel’s resident ghosts, but he could imagine it as a constant irritant. They were lucky it hadn’t turned the spirits angry and dangerous.
“How are we doing out there, Rowan?” Sorren looked toward the entranceway where Rowan had returned.
“Nothing so far,” she replied. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Black-clad workers swarmed from the truck, maneuvering a forklift. Ben and Erik stood back and let Sorren and Donnelly direct the crew, who didn’t seem to find the circumstances strange in the least.
Rowan remained on alert from attackers outside. After Donnelly’s comment to the ghosts clarifying that they weren’t thieves, Erik wasn’t worried about the spirits turning on them. Ben and Erik carried their guns in case mobsters showed up.
As the crates left the warehouse and the truck was loaded, Erik wondered if it was his imagination that the vibe shifted. He hadn’t been aware of a heaviness when they first arrived, but the more pieces of the dome that left the area, the more the energy cleared.
“I wonder if buying the dome is what got Bartolo killed?” Ben mused aloud. “And if it contributed to the hotel’s downfall.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Rowan replied as Donnelly and Sorren directed placement of the last crates onto the truck.
“Makes me wonder about the origin of the dome. Some pieces are just born bad, but that’s usually by design.
If the dome was commissioned for its original site, the artist had it in for them. ”
Erik thought of the Commodore Wilson’s checkered past, unlucky even before the bombastic preacher took over.
None of the prior owners had lasted long, and most either died young or were financially ruined by the huge old hotel.
Against that history, the dome seemed like a poisonous flower, beautiful but deadly.
Donnelly stood in the center of the warehouse and turned in a slow circle, one hand outstretched. “I did a sweep of the building to make sure we got all the pieces. Definitely don’t want to leave any of that bad mojo behind.” He turned to Sorren, who was standing with the crew chief.
“We’ve got them all. Go ahead and lock it up,” he said as the last of the workers climbed back inside and the driver took his seat in the cab. The semi rumbled to life and pulled cautiously out of the darkened driveway.
Rowan secured the door to the warehouse and dimmed the conjured light to a glow of fire above her palm so they could see each other as they talked.
“Here’s the haunted window,” Erik returned with the spelled case, taking it to Soren’s SUV. “Good riddance. I hope you’ve got plenty of magic on this car and that semi.”
“Layers upon layers,” Donnelly assured them. “One of the crew is a talented witch. They’ll be okay—and so will we. The dome is now hidden again from anyone trying to scry for it.”
“Thank you for taking the windows off our hands,” Ben said. “There’s no real owner, and it was going to be a reason for The Collector and The Oligarch to keep poking around until someone found it.”
“The Alliance is aware of both men,” Sorren said with a definite tone of distaste. “We do our best to keep the worst items, like the dome, out of their hands. The underground trade in cursed and haunted objects is regrettably brisk.”
Given the death and damage Erik had witnessed with non-magical artwork in his years with Interpol, he didn’t envy the Alliance their task.
Donnelly walked back over to Erik and Ben. “Good to see you. Nice work on this. Try to stay out of trouble for a while.” He winked and got into the passenger seat.
“From him, that’s high praise,” Rowan confided before she joined Donnelly. “But you two had the odds stacked against you and still came out on top. That’s something to be proud of. Take care.”
That left Sorren, the last to leave. “Nice work. Thank you for keeping Cassidy in the loop. I know Charleston isn’t close, but when it’s important, we can get here. Call us when you need us.” Sorren slid behind the wheel and turned on the engine.
Erik and Ben got into their Highlander and led the way, with Sorren’s SUV behind them. They didn’t turn their lights on until they were on the main road.
Erik’s phone rang with a call from Rowan, and he put it on speaker. “Heads up,” she warned. “The ghosts say there’s a roadblock just down the road. Six black SUVs and at least a dozen men with weapons. I’m sensing someone with strong magic too.”
“Sounds like a mobster welcoming committee,” Ben muttered. “If The Collector or The Oligarch has been tailing us, maybe one of them decided to come in person to get the dome. Did the semi get through?”