Chapter Twelve
Twelve
“Okay, I’m officially impressed,” Luke said. He stopped just inside the doorway and surveyed the interior of the large basement beneath the house on Hidden Lane. “Not sure what I expected, but this isn’t it.”
Sophy sniffed. “You thought my aunt worked with Ouija boards, crystal balls, and astrology charts, didn’t you? Admit it.”
“Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting a serious library.”
She was so accustomed to Bea’s library—she and Chloe had spent many hours in it—that she sometimes forgot how it might look to others.
The rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves were crammed with leather-bound tomes, manuscripts, books both very old and very new, long runs of arcane journals, handwritten memoirs, government documents, and reports and papers from various academic institutions and research centers.
All of it was devoted to the paranormal.
“I thought you knew that Bea is a librarian and a rare books specialist,” she said. “The psychic consulting is a sideline. She feels a strong obligation to use her talents to help people find answers.”
Luke moved to the nearest shelf and studied the spines of the books. “You said your sister is on some island in the South Pacific?”
“A reclusive collector invited her to check out his collection. He said he wants to give her some of his most important items if she will promise to personally escort them back to the U.S. and house them in Bea’s library.”
Luke raised his brows. “He wants to give them to your aunt?”
“He told my sister that he’s afraid of some of the materials in his collection. That happens. Collectors can be very eccentric and superstitious. He claims to have some documents linked to the old Bluestone Project.”
“Why didn’t he contact the Foundation? They’ll take any Bluestone documents or artifacts with a solid provenance and they’ll pay top dollar.”
“This may come as a shock to you, Mr. Wells, but a lot of us in the paranormal community prefer to avoid dealing with the Foundation.”
He shrugged. “Wells, Inc. has a good working relationship with the organization.”
“How lovely for you. Perhaps it hasn’t occurred to you that most of us in the community lack the muscle and the cash it takes to make sure the Foundation treats us with the same respect that it shows your family.
It seems to think it has a right to police those of us who are just trying to make a living with our talents and be productive members of society. ”
“Let’s skip this argument and stay focused. What are we doing here in your aunt’s library?”
He had a point. They were on a mission. They had to move forward.
She went to the old-fashioned card catalog and pulled open the drawer marked V–Z. She started thumbing through the subject headings.
“Vanishing Islands, Visions…here we go, Vortex Sites, U.S.” She closed the drawer and headed into the stacks.
Luke followed. So did Bruce.
She turned a corner, went down another aisle, and stopped in front of a large section labeled Vortices, Ley Lines, and Natural Power Sites.
“There’s a ton of literature written about vortex sites,” she said. “But surprisingly little about the Fool’s Gold Canyon location.”
“Maybe because it’s not a true vortex site,” Luke said. “There are a lot of small towns and communities and resorts all over the world that promote themselves as natural power sites in order to attract tourists.”
“True. Still, it seems odd.” She plucked a thin volume off the shelf. “This is what I was looking for, An Investigation into the Fool’s Gold Canyon Vortex. Self-published. Now, there’s just one more book I want to take with us. It’s in the vault.”
“You’ve got a vault in here? This whole basement feels like a vault.”
“Don’t tell me the Wells family doesn’t have a very special vault.”
“Well, sure, but that’s because we have some old secrets to protect.”
“So do the Harpers.”
She stopped in front of a bookcase that looked exactly like all the other bookcases. She removed a volume, pressed the button behind it, and then channeled a little energy into the crystal that secured the Harper family vault.
She felt Luke’s stunned surprise before he spoke.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, moving closer to join her. “A psi-lock?”
“Crystal-based tech,” Sophy said proudly. “Only Bea, Chloe, or I can unlock this vault.”
Luke flashed a brief, amused smile. “As every Wells knows, the Harpers are very, very good with locks.”
She raised her chin. “Yes, we are.”
The entire bookcase slid aside, revealing a chamber lined with steel plates.
Steel and glass shelves were arranged floor to ceiling.
They were crammed with the most important—and the most dangerous—books, crystals, Bluestone artifacts, and memorabilia that the Harper family had acquired over four generations.
Currents of paranormal energy flowed out through the entrance. Sophy felt her hair stir as if in response to static electricity. Luke’s dark hair looked as if it had been ruffled by a slight breeze. Bruce hovered at the entrance and whined softly.
Luke whistled and moved inside. “Hotter than hell. The Foundation would kill for some of these items.”
“It’s the ‘kill’ part that worries us,” Sophy said.
“I was speaking metaphorically.”
“Uh-huh. Hang on, I’ll get the logbook.”
She went down a narrow aisle to the back of the vault, found what she was looking for, and headed toward the door.
Luke eyed the black, leather-bound volume with deep interest. “What is it?”
“One of Great-grandfather Tobias Harper’s personal journals. It covers the time period during which the decision to establish the pact was made.”
“Forget the Foundation—Wells, Inc. would pay a fortune for that volume. Just name your price.”
“You can’t afford it.” She tightened her grip on the logbook, momentarily afraid he might try to yank it out of her hand. “It’s a family heirloom. Priceless.”
“It would be safer in the Wells family vault.”
“Harpers can take care of their own heirlooms, thank you very much.”
He gave her a cool smile. “We can discuss it some other time. Right now we need to get on the road.”
“When it comes to this logbook, there is nothing more to discuss. But you’re right, we should be on our way. It will only take me a moment to grab my stuff.”
“Out of curiosity, I have to ask if you’re planning to take the puffy coat to Arizona?”
“Of course not. I have another coat I use for warm climates.”
She locked the vault and led the way toward the door of the library.
“You know,” Luke said, “I dated a librarian for a while.”
“Really?” Sophy said. “And how did that go for you?”
“It did not end well.”
“She has my sympathies, whoever she is. I’ve had a few bad endings myself.”