Rise of the catalyst, p.3
Rise of the Catalyst, page 3
The mask had four layers on it before I deemed it sufficient. Only then did I take some of the bottled glue and paste the black tourmaline on the top.
It was like a gramophone that had just ground to a halt. The song immediately stopped, cut off mid-note. I could no longer remember what it sounded like, its influence gone from my head. I felt strangely as if I’d just visited a bad hypnotist or been in a drunken stupor, only to have no memory of it the next day. The energy lines were dissipating quickly at least, although not gone yet. Drat, I’d truly hoped this much would do it. No dice, eh?
Flo clapped her hands. “The feeling stopped. I no longer want to put the mask on.”
“It stopped for me, too. Excellent. The stones still seem to be spinning, though.” I squinted at the nearest patch of wall, trying to see for myself. The energy lines were still tugging at the stones, albeit weaker and slower.
Director Downes was cautious in his approach, his hands full of paper. “Are you ready to place this in the box?”
“I am, sir. Thank you.” I took the paper from him and started arranging it along the bottom.
The next twenty minutes was three adults playing at crafts, or so it struck my fancy. We took turns holding things for each other so we could glue the paper into place along the sides of the box, forming a tight seal. Only when I was satisfied it would hold and was as tight as could be did I dare return the mask to the box. The last layer of inch-thick paper was glued to the top of the box and then put into place. I closed the box’s lid with satisfaction.
“One last step.” I lifted my platinum wand and tapped the top of the box three times, clearing the energy still clinging to the outside of the metal.
The stones abruptly stopped moving in the wall, stilling in whatever position they’d been in. Several stuck straight out, while others were partially turned. I didn’t envy whoever got to fix this.
Director Downes sagged against the table’s edge. “My dear Miss Arnoult, you just proved you are worth every penny. I never would have thought to use those elements to make it subside.”
I took the praise in the spirit it was meant and smiled at him. “If you’ll cut me a check, I’ll be happy to take this out of your building immediately.”
“Come to my office, please, and I’ll do so.”
Since I was probably the only one brave enough to handle the mask, I picked up the box. Flo put my wand back into my bag, hefting it onto her own shoulder to distribute the weight between us. The box in my hands was not light. I appreciated her thoughtfulness.
As Director Downes led us out of the room, he inquired eagerly, “What else can I do to help you? I’m quite invested in your mission succeeding.”
I almost demurred because he’d called me here for a reason—he couldn’t manage this problem. Then a thought occurred and I changed what I had planned to say on the spot. “Actually, I need to confer with an archaeologist who specializes in the desert areas of the United States. Can you give me some sort of direction?”
“I most certainly can. There’s an archaeologist we sometimes work with at Boston College.”
I smiled, glad to have someone to aim questions at. “Splendid. Let me check your employees before I leave. I don’t want anyone to suffer ill effects.”
“That’s most kind, Miss Arnoult, and I do appreciate it.”
I didn’t want to explain that I’d had half-mad people seduced by ancient artifacts climb into my bedroom window before. He’d had a bad enough day already.
Three
It took several stops on the Boston College campus to inquire of the students where to go, and, of course, two ladies on a college campus garnered all sorts of odd reactions. This wasn’t a medical or magical school, so women here would be a very rare thing indeed, and it led mostly to inquiries if we were lost and offers of directions off campus. But Flo and I persevered. We found Dr. Warwick’s office on the fourth floor, tucked into a back corner.
Flo marched us confidently up to the door and gave the wood a firm rap with her knuckles.
“Enter!” a male voice called out, sounding absentminded.
We did so, Flo first, although she came to a rather abrupt stop some three feet inside. I stopped as well, trying to discern why. The room wasn’t the brightest; only one lamp on the desk was burning, which gave my eyes some trouble. My night vision was nonexistent, and this setting did not help me distinguish anything in the office. I could only gather the impression of ‘cluttered’ with little room to maneuver around the many stacks of things on the floor. It smelled strongly of paper, books, and the musty scent of very old things clustered in a room with little in the way of ventilation.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, I thought you were one of my students.” The man behind the desk rose and came toward us, weaving his way around piles as if he’d done it so many times he could manage it blindfolded.
Flo leaned in and rapidly filled me in, speaking in an undertone, “A lithe, younger man, seems to be in his late thirties, rather handsome in a way, light tan suit.”
I appreciated the description, as always. All I could swear upon, especially in this deplorably dim lighting, was that he was rather tall. His voice was easy on the ear—a soothing baritone—and his words well enunciated. “Can I help you?”
“Dr. Preston Warwick?” I inquired, double-checking we had indeed found the right office.
“The same. You are…?”
“Arwen Arnoult. This is my companion, Florence McGrath. We need you to examine an artifact I just acquired from the Boston Museum.”
“Now, there’s a request I don’t hear every day. Please, sit. Ah, wait.” He hastily grabbed several things off two chairs, haphazardly moving them to another pile, then waved again. “Sorry about that. I was supposed to be on an expedition next month, you see, and I was in the middle of sorting and organizing everything in preparation. My office is not normally like this.”
I reserved judgement. Every person I knew who was an expert in their field did not believe in the virtues of organization, shall we say. I sat, the box firmly in my lap. Flo sat next to me, and Dr. Warwick found a slice of the couch opposite me to perch upon.
“I assume the artifact in question is in that box? But why did the Boston Museum give it to you?”
“To be precise, I’m charged with taking it back to where it originated. There’s a bit of a story there. Dr. Warwick, are you familiar with artifacts from your digs having a certain amount of…intrinsic power to them? Not magical, per se, but a realm of energy of their own.”
He paused and very carefully responded, “I’ll say that I’ve seen and experienced things I can’t readily explain. Something modern magick can’t explain, for that matter.”
“Good, that will make this easier. I am going to hand you two gloves. Please don them and do not handle this thing barehanded. Do you understand?”
“I’m afraid I don’t. I do have field gloves—”
“No, those won’t do you any good. Mine are lined with lead foil and will protect you. Right now, you can’t hear the artifact’s song of influence because it’s very tightly shielded inside this box, but the minute I lift that protection, you’ll be struck with the strongest urge to put the mask on. I need you to brace yourself for that feeling.”
“Ms. Arnoult, you realize this sounds strange, do you not?”
“I’m quite aware. I’m also aware your opinion will change the moment I open this box. Please just bear with me.”
Dr. Warwick was apparently enough of a gentleman that he wasn’t going to accuse me of having bats in my belfry. At least not to my face. He accepted the gloves I handed him, and I waited until he had them both on before turning the box and letting Flo unlock it. Only then did I lift the lid and the inch-high stack of paper on top.
The result was quite visceral even in this dim lighting. Dr. Warwick startled, visibly, hands going up to his ears. “My god! Ms. Arnoult, you weren’t joking.”
“I was not.” I had to listen more to his voice than see his face for cues on how he fared. “Are you able to withstand it? This will get worse when I remove the lead foil.”
“I think I can. I never have experienced the like of this. Why a song?”
“That is one of my many, many questions.” I turned to Flo, who had dealt with this before. “Can you hear it?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
So it didn’t focus on magicians? Then why had it not effected the museum director? He’d been wholly immune to it. There was a rhyme or reason to this. I just didn’t know enough to put the pieces together. “All right. Let me undo the foil.”
I did so gingerly, not wanting my fingers to touch the mask. My hasty wrapping of it at the museum worked in my favor here. It was easy enough to undo, although I didn’t fully unwrap the mask—just the top layer so he could examine it.
Dr. Warwick leaned in as I tilted the box toward him. “How…extraordinary. I’ve never seen the like. Wait one moment, I need more light for this.”
Well, he was taking this rather better than I’d hoped. He didn’t seem nearly as affected by the song as I had expected. (Again, why?) I checked again on Flo, only to find that she had firmly sat on both of her hands.
“Okay?”
“I’ve been better,” she answered with a reed-thin voice. “Once you lifted the foil, I started to hear it.”
“You can wait outside his office if that helps.”
“I don’t dare get up.”
“Ah.” I had some sympathy for her but no answer to the dilemma until the archaeologist had finished his examination. I’d definitely renew her charm later today or tomorrow, however. I didn’t want to travel with this thing without bolstering her.
Dr. Warwick was back in a flash with his lamp turned up to full brightness, which he set on the only flat surface available between us. I could see more of the room now, and the additional light did not help its condition. It was as disorganized as a junk shop and about as clean. He did not sit but stood over me and leaned in, his eyes taking in the mask fully.
“What did the museum tell you, anything?”
I shook my head. “What was told to me is not the truth. It was labeled as Incan.”
“Ah, no, that is decidedly not Incan. Although I can see how the mistake was made. At first glance, it bears a strong resemblance to that culture. But their masks are more refined, more fitted to the face. This is a block of stone with slits carved out. Not the same artisanal work at all.”
So he did know enough to be able to discern the difference between cultures. Excellent, that meant he might know enough to tell me where it had originated.
“What else?” he urged.
“It was acquired off the black market,” I said, somewhat apologetically. “I can tell from its energy that it’s not from South America, if that helps any.”
Dr. Warwick made a sound as if he had just bitten back an oath. “I do loathe those things. So much history lost because we can’t trace it back to its own people.”
“I quite agree, I assure you. Where do you think this came from?”
“That…is the question, isn’t it?” he answered slowly. “Certainly not from a culture I’m readily familiar with. May I ask, why did the Boston Museum give it to you?”
“Do you mind if I cover it once more before we continue the conversation?”
“Oh. Oh, yes, of course, please do.”
I replaced the foil and paper, then closed the lid with a hard snap of metal on metal. Flo was instantly there to lock it, her breath shuddering with relief to have the troublesome thing once again sealed.
“Quite extraordinary,” Dr. Warwick murmured again. “The effect of it was instantly silenced when you did that. I have many questions for you, Ms. Arnoult. Let’s start with who you really are.”
Oh good. He was observant enough to realize I was not what I seemed. I did enjoy working with intelligent men. “I, sir, am in a rather unique field. You can think of me as a retrieval expert. I take items that are cursed or have strong magical affiliations, that are causing havoc in society, and I take them back to their place of origin. Once there, I put the protections they were under back into place so they will not be disturbed. Usually, it’s a private collector or museum that contracts my services.”
“Hence, the Boston Museum gave you this?”
“Quite so. The reason for it was two-fold. First, this mask has the strangest effect on buildings. Given enough time, it will set the very stones of the building to move. The back corner of the museum had its stones spinning in place.”
“I…I beg your pardon?”
“You heard her correctly.” Flo shook her head. “It was quite the sight, I assure you. And unnerving to work in that environment, fearing the roof might collapse on our heads.”
“You didn’t fear for my office?” Dr. Warwick asked faintly.
“No, it seems to need some time in an environment before the effect happens. The director told me the mask was in there for a week before it started. A few minutes here wouldn’t bring about that danger.”
“Oh.” Dr. Warwick sat again, rubbing at his jaw. “What else was it doing? You warned me I would want to don the mask.”
“Everyone working near it at the museum had that urge. The director seemed to be one of the few who didn’t feel the same desire, and, frankly, I think it’s because he was terrified of it. In my experience, when ancient artifacts want someone to put them on, it’s never for a good purpose.”
“You, ah, have much experience with this sort of situation?”
“Two years and running. That doesn’t include my training years.”
“Ah. I see.”
Flo prompted, “What did you make of the mask, Dr. Warwick?”
“My first guess is this was a mask made for religious ceremonies. Almost all of the civilizations that lived in the Americas had masks of this sort, and they were rarely made for any other purpose than religious rituals. I’m even more inclined to think that because of its strong connection to music. You were correct in that it’s not South American in origin, Ms. Arnoult. Neither Incan nor Mayan, for that matter.”
“The energy around it told me that much. This mask is from a desert climate.”
He abruptly leaned forward on the couch, his voice going up a notch in curiosity. “I’m sorry, the energy?”
“I see the energy around objects,” I explained patiently. “It’s why I’m hired for this sort of thing. I can both see and manipulate the energy of the artifacts. To a certain degree, at least. It’s why I was able to seal it well enough to transport it to you.”
“How…” He trailed off, almost spluttering. “How are you able to see it?”
“I always have, since birth.” My mouth quirked up in dry amusement. No one ever believed me the first time I said it.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, but you do understand how extraordinary that statement is? Magicians can’t see energy like that, and their entire talent revolves around it!”
“They love to tell me that, too. But I’m of the opinion that if I wouldn’t go to that person for advice, I won’t accept their criticism either. There are those who believe me. There are those who fast refuse, no matter the evidence presented to them.”
Which category he would be in was the question.
Flo chose to ask that question aloud. “Do you truly believe her, Dr. Warwick?”
“My dear lady, she walked in here with a mask that clearly sang to me, and she told me precisely how to safeguard myself against it. Then she proceeded to tell me where it was not from, even though experts at the Boston Museum said otherwise. Of course I believe her talent to be real, even if I’m struggling to wrap my head around it.”
Well, well, Dr. Warwick was one of the rare few who were willing to believe. I beamed at him, beyond relieved I wouldn’t have a drawn-out argument. I usually had to argue either my ability or capability with people for several minutes before one of us gave way. Or my patience did. I didn’t always win those arguments in the first round. One could not force a closed mind to accept what it would not. To those fools who would not listen, I let them suffer.
He held up a hand. “I’ll need to sleep on this for my poor brain to absorb it, but let’s continue the conversation under the assumption I believe what you say. You say it’s from a desert location?”
“The energy around it says so, yes. The stone it’s made from is also from a desert place. Hence, I asked to see you, as I understand you are an expert in the southwest area of the United States?”
“The Indian tribes there, at least. I must tell you, this mask does not belong to one of them.”
“No,” I agreed equably. “It’s older. Too old to belong to the tribes.”
“Older than…hmm. I see why you decided to consult with a historian, then. The information we have on the people who lived here before the Indian tribes migrated into the southwest region is sketchy at best. We only have oral history to rely upon, really.”
I winced. “I’m not an expert on American history. I wasn’t aware of that. Do you have any idea of who it could be?”
“I have a few notions, yes. It would take research on my part to answer you factually.”
Now came the real question. “Dr. Warwick, as I said, I’m tasked with returning this mask to its rightful place. I can’t very well do that if I don’t know where that is. If you can give me a starting point, I can take it from there.”
He didn’t answer me immediately, but instead seemed quite lost in thought for a moment. “Miss Arnoult, frankly, I’d feel nervous about merely pointing you in a direction. I don’t know enough to be sure what I’m pointing you to. I realize this is rather unorthodox, but can I come with you?”
I blinked at him. He did not just say that, did he? “Come with me?”
“To see this through. I’m really quite intrigued. In truth, I’m at loose ends. I mentioned I was preparing for an expedition? Well, the funding for it fell through at the last second, leaving the entire party out of sorts. I have absolutely nothing on schedule for the next six months, in fact. This is an incredible mystery that I want to solve. I can pay my own way, of course. I’m also quite intrigued by your ability, Ms. Arnoult. I wish to interview you to figure out your ability and training.”
