Page 33 of Last Resort

“A necromancerandan exorcist,” Ben replied with a chuckle. “Friends of friends. But Erik and Alessia can handle Tom. They took care of a bigger, badder ghost at the Regent Theater.”

Sean shuddered. “I had finally mostly forgotten about that, thanks.”

“If Tom is a problem or if we need to get more out of him, I can have Monty give it a try.” Ben gathered the salted rope and locked the apartment. “He just handled a ghost at the convent, and I didn’t want to stretch him too thin. He’s an actual medium—I’m just a guy who can talk to ghosts.”

“Would it make a difference?”

Ben shrugged as he and Sean walked back to the office. “I don’t know. Monty certainly isn’t going to channel Tom’s ghost, and ethically, he can’t compel Tom to do anything. I think for now, Tom’s given us all he’s going to. He might change his mind later.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Ben sighed. “I guess that depends on what he might have to say.”

SIX

ERIK

“Is it just me?” Susan asked after she had wrapped up a customer’s purchase and sent them on their way. “Or do you feel jittery too?”

Erik smiled. “I feel it. The autumn equinox is a couple of days away—and that juices up the genius loci at the old Commodore Wilson hotel site.”

“You mean I’ve been feeling like this because of a damn hotel that isn’t even there anymore?”

Erik moved around the store, straightening items that had been handled by customers and tidying displays. “Not the hotel itself—the land beneath it. Or rather, the inherent energy in that piece of ground. To put it another way—bad mojo.”

“I’ve lived here all my life. How come I never heard about that before?”

Erik reshelved a book that had been left on a table and carried a pair of opera glasses back to the place they belonged. “Alessia and her coven have been doing containment rituals for years. Probably other witches before them. Plus, you didn’t work at Trinkets before, even if you were friendly with Mr. Pettis. This shop soaks up energy like a sponge, and the equinox is going to change the resonance.”

“Once the equinox is over, will the energy go back down?” Susan polished a set of silver candlesticks at the counter as she spoke.

“It doesn’t ever go away completely, but it should drop to a dull hum until the winter solstice,” Erik replied.

“I’m surprised more people don’t notice.” She worked on a stubborn spot of tarnish.

“They do—they just don’t know what to call it.” Erik leaned into the window to adjust a vase that had shifted. “They blame the weather or say they’re having an off day. Why would they think anything else? The genius loci is a permanent fixture of the land. Since it’s always been here, people take the vibration as something normal, like the tides.”

“I feel antsy.” Susan finished the candlestick and picked up a silver picture frame to polish. “But what’s it like for you, with your abilities?”

Erik paused trying to figure out how to put the feeling into words. “In the shop, I’m hyper-aware of pieces that carry psychic residue. Like there’s a steady buzz just at the edge of what I can hear. We only have pieces with good energy on display, so it’s not unpleasant. The stuff in the safe, on the other hand?—”

He shivered. “That gets amped up too. Which is why I’m glad it’s a lead-lined, iron box.”

“Are you any closer to figuring out the deal with the poker chips?” Susan asked.

“Beyond confirming that they were from the Fun Factory and finding out a little more about the place—no. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion there will turn out to be a connection to the dead guy at Ben’s rental unit, and the bad energy from the old hotel site will make everything worse.”

Erik brushed away some dust on one of the mahogany display cases. The old store had good bones, with a big window facing the street and antique cabinets and bookshelves that showed off the merchandise in style.

While the tea sets, vintage paintings, small furnishings, and decorative items were far different from the Old Master artwork he dealt with in his previous job, Erik appreciated the calm energy of these pieces. Because they had been used by regular people in their everyday lives, the items in the store felt grounded and satisfied. Museum artwork, on the other hand, often had a cold, distant resonance, perhaps because they were exhibited in a public space with no human contact.

The genius loci’s hum felt like the faint buzz of electrical wires, just at the edge of perception but still a constant annoyance. Between peaks, the resonance dulled to be nearly imperceptible. Erik wondered how anyone had been able to spend time in the Commodore Wilson without feeling the energy and suspected that whether or not people knew what made them uncomfortable, that probably contributed to the hotel’s downfall.

“Did you hear about the break-in?”

Susan’s question jolted Erik from his thoughts.

“Robbery?”

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