Black Market (The Wizard Hall Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Cham laid the notebook in his lap and stared at the archaeologist who seemed unable to stay focused for any substantial length of time. Her mind easily wandered, and certain questions upset her so that she’d retract into her own world. He cleared his throat. “What do you really know about the ring, Dr. Blakely?” The ring. That seemed to be what kept her from retreating inside her head.

  “My diary is only part of the story. Here. This is how the ring works. At least how I think it works.” Arden relaxed when she spoke of the ring; her eyes cleared, and a smile crept across her lips. She handed Cham a two-inch-thick folder. As with everything the archaeologist owned, it was old, worn, ripped, and yellowed as if it had been through a lot—much like its owner. “The ring—this lovely, powerful artifact—spent a lot of time in Tibet. I almost had it there, and I lost it. I picked up the trail in Morocco, and a seller there led me to another buyer who in turn sold it to Benaiah.”

  She grew quiet and thoughtful; her eyes glazed over as she became lost amongst her thoughts and memories that had consumed her life for so long. “… I had him. Found him. Hid with my ring for eight years,” she mumbled softly to herself. Her quick changes in demeanor unnerved Cham and Emerson. It was as though she were a different person in these brief moments.

  It occurred to Cham in the quiet moment that Jason had dealt with both the Fraternitatem and Arden at the same time.

  Are they related? Did she work for them?

  “Are you an agent for the Fraternitatem?” Cham asked her.

  She grimaced. “I knew of them once.” Her soft, warm voice was sleepy, maybe drugged. Cham wondered if Ariana kept the archaeologist high to keep her calm.

  That would explain a lot.

  Cham perused the notes on the ring, unable to decipher the language.

  Older than Latin?

  “Is there a translation for this spell?” he asked. Again, his question about the ring pulled Arden’s attention back to them.

  “I can’t find it. That’s all I could get my hands on. I would think you could just chant it and poof, make the ring work. I was not able to.” Her forced smile twisted to a scowl. Arden’s hands fell to her lap and shook uncontrollably.

  “Emerson.” He handed her the supposed spell.

  Emerson smiled as she perused the language of unknown origin. “I don’t know it, Cham. I’ll have to get to the library immediately and look for this. Can I take this with me?”

  “They’re mine!” she shouted at Emerson as if a whole new personality possessed the archaeologist.

  Distant footsteps pounded against hardwood floors, and Ariana rushed into the room. “You need to leave. Arden’s not well, and you being here is making it worse,” Ariana cried out. She handed Arden a mug with rising steam, then turned back to Cham and Emerson. “Leave!”

  “I’m sorry,” Cham said. “We didn’t mean to—”

  “Just go, and don’t bother us again!”

  The wizard guards rushed from the apartment. By the time they teleported from a little used alleyway and returned to Wizard Hall, they realized they still possessed several of Arden Blakely’s things.

  Chapter 21

  High above the school grounds, in an empty wing of the school, Annie sat inside the window well as snow fell. Fluffy, white flakes covered the racing pits, the lake, and the mile-long path from the teleportation area, blanketing the earth in white.

  A fire burned in the hearth; the wood popped, smoke rolled upwards, and the heat, warmed the room so much that Annie had stripped to a tank top and jeans. Even still, sweat rolled down the back of her neck.

  She leaned against the window to cool off as the wind whipped against the glass. When she began to shake from the cold, she returned her attention to Dr. Arden Blakely’s diaries, which Cham had brought to her less than an hour ago.

  Forty-two years ago

  For so long, I tried to put the pieces together. Now I’m convinced that there is a hidden temple out there in the desert, one that belonged to King Solomon. I couldn’t believe when I found the file hidden in the archives at the Field Museum—the missing dig site that can prove my theory. They thought they found it. They really believed the top of a column belonged to King Solomon’s missing temple. But the site caved in, and twenty men lost their lives. Oh, it was a beautiful day when I found the file. I can finally prove my thesis!

  The Field Museum will help some with the funding, but it’s just not enough money, not yet. I spend my days in research. I think I know every square centimeter of those early maps from the archaeological dig in 1920. And now, these new maps of the area will help me find where the cave-in is. I think I know where it happened.

  I was just told I have funding. A lot of funding! Unlimited funding! The excavation will happen! I don’t know anything about my generous donor except that the name of the company is called Fraternitatem It means “Order” in Latin. All I know is, they are very interested in funding this dig. The names of the men involved are Benaiah, Avi, Akiva, Benjamin, and Yosel. All very nice men. I can’t wait. All we need now is the government approval to dig.

  She reread the list, and checked the remnants of the folders Spencer had saved for her. In the second file, her father had listed the names of the agents of the Fraternitatem he had met. Though their descriptions and quirks matched Arden’s account, there had only been five members either had dealt with.

  Only five members of the Fraternitatem? Probably the ones they sent out to do their dirty work!

  Annie scrawled their names in a notebook, a reminder to have Bucky look into the names with the Middle East Wizard Guard.

  She anxiously glanced at her phone, waiting on word of Zola. No one had let Annie know Zola was safe and sound. Annie knew that meant she wasn’t.

  “Where are you, Zola?” Annie whispered and peered out at the storm.

  Tapping her hand against her leg, she glanced out the window as if Zola might be returning, walking through the thick, heavy snow. She continued to skim the diary, taking notes on what she felt was the most important, necessary information.

  We dug for three weeks before we found the void, a pocket of empty space where the cave-in occurred. I knew it! It was right where I said it would be.

  The bodies are everywhere. They have no names. Some bones are mangled from the avalanche of dirt and rock. Others are mummies. I can see their injuries as if they were killed today. I’m heartbroken.

  Annie took notes. An entry from four days later…

  He was the seventh body that day. I processed the body as I normally had, a preliminary examination searching for injuries. I remember him well. If I had to guess, at that moment based on his location, I think he might have been alive for a long while after the ground broke. The thought made me shudder. During a thorough search of his clothing, I found it. It was there, in a tight knot in the hem of his pants. A ring. It was beautiful, and I knew right away what I had.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have left camp that night. The car chase scared me more than I ever had been before. They bumped me off the road, they knocked me out. I thought I was going to die.

  I woke up and had no idea where I was or why I was there. I was Scared, cold and hungry. The rock walls glowed in a blue haze. At first I was happy to see Nicky, but why was he here, in this cave too? As my memory came back, I remembered the car chase from camp along the lonely road at night. He was there when I was hit on the head and kidnapped.

  Nicky isn’t the same person he was when I hired him. He’s mean, he sneers, he hits me. I want to go home, but they won’t let me. Not until I give them all the information pertaining to this fucking ring.

  I can’t tell you how long I’ve been at this. Weeks, maybe months. Time moves slowly in the underground laboratory. I see blue all the time, even when they let me out for a little exercise or to eat in the warm sun. They say it’s the Cave of Ages. I thought that was a myth too. I still can’t get the ring to work. I’ve read book after book, I’ve translated spell after spell, but this is j
ust a ring. There can’t be any real powers in this inanimate object. Can there? Magic isn’t real.

  She skipped ahead to seven months later, ignoring the notes on meals or basic research.

  The ring is gone. They blamed me for it, because it had to be an inside job. They don’t believe me. As I sit here waiting for my punishment, I grow angrier. I found the ring. It was rightfully mine. I would have protected it better than they had.

  Most of what Arden recorded had little or nothing to do with Benaiah or the ring, Annie noted. She skimmed the rest of the year, then opened the third notebook of Dr. Arden Blakely’s diary.

  Benaiah told me the Fraternitatem is setting me free. I’ve been told I’ve been here for a year. A year! Time has stood still for me. What will anyone say when I return home? What will I do now?

  Shaking as she realized what had become of the archaeologist, Annie continued through the diary, through her years of searching for the ring. The last diary entry was dated eight years prior, around the time Annie’s father died. Her hand shook as she read the passage.

  Every time I think I have a location of the ring, it turns out to be false—or I just miss it; it’s been sold or stolen. It always seems to be just out of my grasp. As per our procedures, I received notice that the ring was found in Tibet. Tibet? That ring has surely gotten around.

  I promised Mom that this ‘excavation’ would be a quick trip in and out. She doesn’t need to know what it is I really do. As for the Fraternitatem, I must find my ring and do what I need to do to protect it.

  The ring metaphorically slips by me just as I’m about to reach for it, yet again. Today I find myself in Morocco. I no longer tell my family where I am. They ask too many questions, and I’m far too busy to care. This is one of the smallest black markets I’ve been in. One street, ten merchants on either side of the road. Though the stuff is real magic, it’s all crap. I’m at a loss for how my ring ended up here. Benaiah is here, and per the Fraternitatem I need to reach the ring first. If I don’t, the least of my responsibilities will be to steal it back. I’d rather find it and hide it from them. The ring is mine. I don’t care what the Fraternitatem says.

  That wizard guard, Jason something, was here investigating the influx of Chintamani Stones into the black market. They were stolen from my brethren in the Fraternitatem. How they could be so stupid is beyond me. While they are dealing with this wizard guard, I have my chance to take the ring for myself.

  Dad!

  Seeing his name in Arden Blakely’s diary caused Annie’s heart to speed until she was dizzy. He was so entrenched with the Fraternitatem, with the archaeologist. Annie was convinced—even without solid evidence—that this was his last case, the case that got him murdered. She dropped the book in her lap to watch the falling snow; the storm had picked up again.

  A sour ache roiled in her stomach as Arden’s timeline played out in her head. The missing year, the fear, the confusion, not understanding magic and being thrown into this world—it all was a lot to handle so far from family and friends. She had been betrayed by her assistant and lost everything spending so much time forced to work for this group.

  How do you forgive and move on? Or don’t you?

  Whatever happened, Annie thought it might have caused a significant amount of post-traumatic stress.

  Does she still work for them? Even in her state. She obviously still has the desire to find and possess this ring.

  The ring—the root of all this death and destruction and ultimately, if they weren’t careful, the loss of the black market and the exposure of magic. Annie sighed.

  Ryan had suggested she use what was in Jason’s case files for what only affected this investigation. She hoped Arden could tell her more about this group.

  She scribbled more thoughts on her to-do list.

  The Cave of Ages. Lial and Mrs. Cuttlebrink for an exact location.

  Her father excluded the starting location or unmistakable landmarks on his map. She thought he was either protecting them or others from finding them and incurring their wrath.

  Metal squeaked as Gibbs parked himself on a metal folding chair beside the doorway. His reading materials consisted of several trashy magazines and magical research books. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair of his choice. Annie thought the hard surface was chosen to keep him awake in the warm and mostly silent room.

  Periodically, he glanced up and observed both Annie and the anxious elf who in the end was allowed free reign on this floor. With that freedom, Bitherby paced across the lounge, up the stairs and back down again, picking up his speed across the large, flat hearth. He wrung his hands and squeaked softly before changing direction.

  Maybe he was homesick or lonely in this new environment away from friends and family. No matter how much the elf grated her nerves, in this moment Annie felt badly for him.

  Her eyes met Gibbs’s. He raised and lowered his eyebrows before returning to his book.

  I’m bored.

  She returned to the snow storm; large flakes gently fell in a continuous wall of white.

  Small footsteps pattered across the stone floor, followed by Bitherby’s stench. His breathing was labored and anxious and warm against Annie’s leg. She met his droopy glance.

  “What’s up, Bitherby?” She offered a smile that felt pointless. The elf was clearly shaken; sweat rolled down his bald head and hung along his chin.

  “The protection spell around the black market is dying. Magic gets out.”

  As the strong magic that hid the market on the alternate plane of existence weakened, the market would eventually land in the actual Busse Woods, exposing magic to the nonmagical world.

  Annie sighed. “We thought that might be what was happening. Snow was blowing into the market. Do you know why?”

  “He’s sneaky.”

  “Who’s sneaky? The djinn?”

  Bitherby nodded. “Master come one day and did something to Mr. Gladden, and he just took over just like that.” He snapped his tiny fingers. “Then master kill people who make him mad. We alls scared. Do our jobs, that’s it.”

  Gibbs lowered his book and nodded silently, pretending to read while observing the elf over the top of the page.

  “Quick-like,” said Bitherby. “No one say anything. Just do what we told.”

  A stealthy takeover. Silent and deadly.

  Did anyone in the market actually see this coming, or did they only know it happened after the fact?

  “Maybe our missing persons aren’t shapeshifters. Maybe the master killed them. We haven’t had an increase in magical deaths,” Annie said.

  “Unless they were from other regions. One or two in a region wouldn’t draw suspicion. Not if it was within the normal number of murders in a week, month, or year,” Gibbs pondered.

  “But we have meetings with all the units—and it never occurred to us to look for a pattern?”

  Gibbs crossed his arms against his chest and teetered the chair on the back legs. “Annie, he might be killing people who make him mad, but it wasn’t enough to raise the red flags. Granted, we missed a lot of clues.”

  Bitherby sat on a stool. His short legs swung freely without touching the ground. He reminded Annie of a ten-year-old boy, scared and out of place.

  She thought for a moment. “So how did he do it? How did he keep the information from escaping? Someone is always willing to talk,” she said to Gibbs.

  “Fear. He probably threatened the merchants with death if word got out. A few public killings would be all he needed. And you were there. You saw how fast they were willing to turn us in,” Gibbs answered and dropped his book in his lap. “It’s still our fault and the fault of other Wizard Guard units. None of us saw what was happening.”

  “And Gladden’s always worked at the market?” she asked.

  “For a while. You’ve never seen him?”

  When Annie had seen Gladden in her house, she had known she had never seen him before. His face, his scar would have stayed in her memory. �
��Just at my house looking for the ring.”

  “He’s in trouble with the djinn. Trying to clean up his mess. Not much of a leader, that one.”

  Annie left her perch on the window and curled herself onto the sofa. “He came after me because I’m lame, and he finds… me.” Her voice trailed off as she became lost in thought.

  “Annie? You got something?”

  She didn’t have to think very hard. In their small world, if you wanted to find someone at the black market or in the magical world, there was only one person you needed to go to. Archibald Mortimer.

  Damn him!

  “Mortimer,” she answered.

  “I’ll send someone after that fucker. Find out what he told. He might know something about your fairy too.” Gibbs jumped from his chair with his phone and paced.

  Of all the Wizard Guards, Gibbs was the most able to control his emotions. His actions worried Annie.

  After a few minutes, Gibbs set his phone down for a moment. “Spencer and Lial are looking into the market, trying to plot out a location for Zola. Elf, you have any idea where the master would hide an Aloja fairy?”

  Bitherby’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.

  “Where, Bitherby?” Annie asked.

  “Dungeons,” he replied so softly that they could barely hear his shrill voice.

  “There are dungeons in the black market. Of course there are.” Annie couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes.

  Zola!

  “You received additional instructions for a trade. They’ll be here soon,” Gibbs said. He had returned to playing on his phone, odd for a man who distrusted all things nonmagical. “And Cham and Emerson will head to the Snake Head Letters. Cham’s raring for a beat down. You okay, Annie?” he asked.