Jayne Castle - Canyons of Night

She put her fingers on the dome and heightened her senses. The glass cleared, slowly revealing the miniature landscape.

“Doesn’t look like any city I’ve ever seen,” Slade said. “Are you sure that’s the Old World town where Jones & Jones was founded?”

“I verified it on the computer. That clock tower was a chiming clock. The bell was nicknamed Big Ben.”

“Big Ben who?”

“Darned if I know who Ben was. But I’m positive that’s the city that was home to Arcane and J&J in what was known as the Victorian Era.”

“Who was Victoria?”

“An ancient queen, I think. She ruled during the period when J&J was founded.”

“You’re sure the snow globe is authentic and not a replica?”

“Trust me, it’s the real thing.”

“There’s no snow,” Slade said.

“Well, this globe is hundreds of years old. It’s hardly surprising that it no longer produces fake snow. But there is a lot of energy embedded in that thing. I’ve never come across anything like it.”

“Must be worth a fortune.”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled. “I sent an email to the lawyer who handled Mrs. Lambert’s estate. My main concern is that this is all a mistake. I wouldn’t be surprised if this object was supposed to go into the museum collection. I can’t risk putting it on the market until I know for sure that it’s mine to sell.”

“I can sense that it’s giving off some energy,” Slade said. “But I don’t recognize it.”

She understood what he meant. Power was power, and most sensitives could pick up on the vibes when there was a lot of it around. But by definition a talent could only recognize—and work—the ultralight currents that emanated from the distinct narrow bands on the paranormal spectrum to which he or she was personally sensitive.

“If we’re right about Gaines, he dealt in para-weapons,” Slade said. “Do you think this globe might be weapons-grade?”

“No,” she said, on firm ground now. “It’s certainly powerful but it doesn’t feel like any para-weapon I’ve ever handled.”

Slade smiled faintly. “How many have you touched?”

“Very few. One doesn’t come across them very often in my end of the business. But I have come in contact with some and I can tell you that this energy feels different. I’m sure it’s as strong as any weapons-grade artifact but I don’t think it was designed to kill. At least, not all by itself.”

“What does it do?”

“This is going to sound strange but it feels a bit like a generator or an engine.”

Slade picked up the globe and held it to the light. “Maybe it was meant to power or fuel a weapon.”

“That’s possible. But even though it isn’t a para-weapon I can assure you that Jeremy would have wanted to get his hands on it simply because of its enormous value.”

“Priceless?”

It was her turn to be amused. “I learned long ago that there is no such thing as priceless, not in my business. No matter how rare or valuable an object is, there is always a price and always some collector willing to pay it.”

“And maybe one or two who would be willing to kill for it?”

“Oh, yes.”

Slade raised his brows. “You know, until I met you I had no idea that the antique trade was such a rough business.”

“It has its moments.”

He set the globe back down on the table. “And this particular almost-priceless object might be yours.”

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up. Logic tells me it was supposed to go to the museum.”

“Looks like I now have my motive for murder.”

“Absolutely.”

Slade put his fingertips on the globe. Energy crackled briefly in the atmosphere. “I told you that I don’t recognize the psi emanating from this thing, but I do recognize some of the residue on it.”

“What do you mean?”

He took his hand off the globe and looked at her.

“More than one person has died while clutching this globe,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. There are several layers of violent energy. But the most recent one is at least forty years old.”

“The globe was probably tucked away in Mrs. Lambert’s personal vault for the past forty years,” Charlotte said. “It’s too late now to ask her how she acquired it. She seemed like such a nice old lady. Maybe I don’t really want to know how it came into her possession.”

“You did say that sometimes it’s best not to know too much about someone. She never mentioned that she intended to leave the globe to you?”

“No.” Charlotte sighed. “Which is why I suspect that it will soon be going to the Arcane museum. But who knows? I might get lucky. Maybe the lawyer will tell me that Mrs. Lambert wanted me to have it.”

“Meanwhile it needs to be held in safekeeping.”

“It just so happens that years ago my aunt installed a fabulous old Greenleaf amber-lock safe in this shop. There is certainly more sophisticated technology on the market now but no one has ever crafted better locks.”

“I’ve come across a few Greenleaf safes in my time. They’re solid. Sounds like a good place to store the globe.”

“IF I NEVER EAT ANOTHER SLICE OF ZUCCHINI BREAD again in my entire life, I don’t think I’ll mind,” Charlotte said.

“I believe Rex now considers it a staple of his diet.” Slade switched on the small flashlight he had taken out of the pack slung over his shoulder. “He’s going to be crushed when the season is over.”

“I’m sure he’ll move on. He’s a dust bunny. He lives in the moment.”

“Zucchini issues aside, dinner was good tonight. I liked the way you fixed the tomatoes.”

“Thanks. But I gotta tell you, I’m even running out of things to do with tomatoes. Luckily Mrs. Duncan says her broccoli, kale, and peas are coming in nicely so we should have some changes in the menu soon.”

“I’ve never been a broccoli fan and I wouldn’t know what to do with kale,” Slade said.

“You wash it, dry it, cut it up, toss it with olive oil and salt, and then you roast it in the oven until it gets all crispy.”

“Yeah?” Slade sounded skeptical.

“Tastes just like potato chips.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Slade said politely.

“You’ll see. I’ll fix some for you as soon as Mrs. Duncan brings me a batch.”

“Deal.”

There had been a little light left in the sky when they had set out from her cottage in Slade’s SUV. But darkness was coming on fast as they walked into the trees at the end of Merton Road. Rex, clutch purse in paw, was bobbing about at their feet, dashing hither and yon to investigate interesting rocks and clumps of vegetation. Occasionally he disappeared altogether into the undergrowth only to reappear a short time later with some small treasure—a rock or a flower—to show them.

The night seemed filled with promise. Charlotte was intensely aware of a sparkling sense of anticipation, as if an important door was about to open and everything in her life was going to change. She hadn’t felt anything like this since the night she had gone into the Preserve with Slade fifteen years ago. No, she reminded herself, she had experienced it on one other occasion. That was the morning last week when she stood with the others and watched Slade walk off the ferry to take the chief’s job.

It only went to show how poor her intuition was, she thought, because when you got right down to it, nothing had changed after those other two encounters.

Nevertheless, she felt thrilled tonight. There was no other word for it.

“I’m really excited about this, you know,” she confided.

Slade smiled his faint smile. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“I don’t get out much.”

“Nobody does around here, as far as I can tell. Probably because there’s no place to go.”

“I’m not talking about traveling or entertainment. I meant that I’ve had a hard time doing the really interesting things.”

“Such as?”

“I told you that my family expected me to end up selling antiques. They were right. But fifteen years ago my secret dream was to become a para-archaeologist and work in one of the Arcane museums.”

“I remember. I take it that didn’t work out for you.”

“I got my degree and I applied to the Arcane museums in each of the four city-states and all of the regular public and private museums as well. But every single one of them turned me down.”

“Did they give you a reason?”

“Just the usual sorry, we don’t need your particular talents at this time crap. But I did some investigating on my own and found out the truth. My rainbow-reading ability isn’t considered useful in the field. I’ve got a good feel for identifying para-artifacts and antiques, but that’s hardly unique. There are people with a lot more specific talent for that kind of thing.”

“What about that tuning trick you do?” Slade asked.

“That’s just it. Everyone considers it a neat trick, a novelty. But I can’t even use it to tune standard resonating amber for focusing purposes. It doesn’t work that way. The fact is, my little trick has no academic-related uses.”

“Just good for selling art and antiques?”

“Yes. I can’t complain. It’s worked out very well for me from a financial point of view. And I really do enjoy the work. My family was very relieved when I made the decision to go into the business.”

“Why?”

“They were afraid that working with some of the seriously powerful antiquities in museum collections would cause me to have more panic attacks.” She paused. “Me being so damn delicate and all.”

There was a long silence before Slade finally spoke.

“You’re not the only one who got slapped with that label,” he said. “I did, too.”