Moonlit Feathers (7 page)

Sitting down in my chair, I waited for the computer to wake up from its electronic slumber. Some days were spent more in front of the computer than out in the field, much to my raven’s chagrin. She’d rather have me fly across the landscape, looking for any and every minor detail for hours, rather than spend fifteen minutes on Google. Search engines made life a lot easier. A few quick and snappy queries and, voila, an instant library of detail about some object's history or legend. Digging through shelves in the actual library to read books was mostly a thing of the past. Thank God for technology.

My raven felt like bouncing up and down, ready to attack something out of sheer boredom, as I searched for truth in an electric sea of knowledge. Ten excruciating minutes later—for the raven at least—I found what I'd needed. Cody had been truthful.

A stray tornado had hit the area in April, destroying several houses. The weathermen who had reported on it stated that it was a highly unusual one, appearing out of thin air. One moment the weather radar had been normal, the next an insignificant thunderstorm in the area had turned into a tornado. There had been minimal rotation, and almost no warning signs for people in its path. Of course, a scientist had come up to the media only two days later, stating that a change in the upper atmosphere earlier that day had resulted in a sudden and massive pressure change, allowing the tornado to form. The media had gobbled up the story, and no one had decided to check the facts behind it.

Residents had begun reconstruction slowly. The tornado had also torn through a small section of the forest. Another article had mentioned the local chief of police requesting that hikers in the area be cautious, as the tornado might have disturbed local wildlife, and to keep an eye out for any missing historic relics, promising there would be a small reward given for the effort.

I was about to look further into Cody's personal details, to ensure that he was from the nearby tribe, even though his coloring seemed more Nordic than Native American, when an e-mail message dropped into my inbox. It was marked ‘urgent,’ with receipt request on being opened. It was linked to the one I’d received just before Cody and I had sat down for coffee. This James McGuire seemed in a hurry to have his message read. My interest was piqued, and I opened the email.

Mr. McGuire was very interested in getting immediate assistance with obtaining an item of 'obvious value,' and he’d been made aware that I had found something relating to it. He would cover all the usual expenses, and make sure I was compensated for the urgency. There was even a promise of assistance and protection, should I need it while I would be working for him. And he
requested
I reach out to him immediately in order to get my first paycheck. The retainer amount specified was higher than my usual one for local jobs. Was this for something overseas? I didn't have time for that right now. Besides, something felt off about this.

I was accustomed to customers who required immediate assistance, but even among those who were overly bossy and thought they could order everyone around at their own whim, the email still stood out like a sore thumb. I normally worked through a known set of intermediate contacts, but this e-mail had been sent to me directly. Asking for receipts on opening was normal, but customers normally wanted a degree of discretion about themselves, or worked through their lawyers. Either this man had influence, or the matter was urgent enough to him that he didn't even try to hide who he was.

This had also come up shortly after things went haywire in Running Deer, and after meeting Cody. Could this be an offer for another item of value in this area? But the price... It didn't add up. Artifacts, items of wealth, art, and other objects of desire rarely showed up in multiples in small towns. Raven
krawed
inside my head in obvious warning. She was uneasy about it as well. Whoever it was could just find another treasure hunter to help him out.

I pulled my draft replies folder up and found a respectful enough form letter turning down the job. Doing that always held a bit of danger, since some clients would be offended regardless, but they couldn't put a bad name out in my circles. If they did, they’d soon find their circle of friends shrink in front of their eyes. The market for my kind of talent had its own ways to ensure that those violating contracts, or worse, wouldn’t find anyone willing to assist them in their dirty work ever again. I removed the auto-signature, which included my phone number, from the e-mail before pressing reply.

With at least two parties going for potentially the same thing, or at least messing around in the same area, I knew that if I had any hope of getting whatever Cody was after, I had to step up my game. It wouldn’t be the first time one investigation stepped on the shoes of another in already in progress. Clues could be mixed up, evidence destroyed, scenes where things happened could get dirtied by people who had no idea that something important had happened, and of course, people's feelings got hurt.

It sounded like Cody might be getting more information from someone close to him. Maybe he'd have more clues for me soon. In the meantime, I still had the thing that had led me into this mess. I dialed Kevin's number.

"Hi Morgana, finally got some time?" he asked, his voice a little groggy. Apparently, his erratic sleeping schedule had gotten the better of him again.

"You awake enough to tell me why you called me earlier? Is it about the gold?" I asked, keeping my voice level as not to aggravate him too much.

"Yeah, hold on a moment," he said. I heard the familiar sound of coffee pouring into a cup a few moments later. A few long audible gulps later, his much more alert voice returned to the line. "Hey, yeah, I found out something quite interesting about your stone here. I have another pot brewing, so I’ll be awake enough to share the details with you."

By the time we’d finished the call, he'd gone through a second pot of coffee and was making a third. Some days I hoped he would cut back, but I was afraid how he'd act if he went cold turkey. He’d been excited about the findings, but had let it slip that he’d reached out to someone on the finer details of the metal composites. I would’ve kicked him if he’d been in the same room, but I let it slide over the phone. That must be where Mr. McGuire had somehow gotten a whiff of what it was what we’d found. As Kevin’s description of the gold continued, I become more and more sure that it was related to what Cody was after.

At one time, the rock had been a normal everyday collection of silica, carbon, various metals, and tiny amounts of sulfur. Then, slowly, from outside in, the lesser elements had begun changing into gold. The heavier elements and strain of rust that had been inside of the rock seemed to have resisted the conversion. And it had taken time. The cross-section of the rock, Kevin had said, was laced with gold inclusions, fractal patterns slowly filling the inside.

"Nature likes nothing better than replicating patterns. Minerals and metals like to clump together, though. And the conversion had started on some of the metal strands. There’s no material in between, or impurities like you'd see in normal human processes of making things. Instead it's one atom of gold, followed by the next being iron. It just doesn't happen in a normal melting process," Kevin said.

I didn't like to jump to conclusions, and Kevin was incapable of it. His world was all facts and possibilities. So, he mentioned a few manufacturing techniques that might be responsible, but each would cost so much more to make the rock than merely melting it from pure gold.

And, according to Kevin, the conversion process explained the weight, or lack thereof. "You see, you still have the center of the rock essentially left alone. If I were to guess, only two fifths of the atomic weight was actually converted. There are still pockets of other metals within the gold. My guess is that they were heavy enough to avoid full conversion in the time given to it. And from that I can say that whoever started this stopped early. I don't know why, but in the area we’re in there really is no shortage of magic running under our feet."

I was left with one conclusion: magic was responsible for making the rock as it was. It was a chilling thought that something in the magical world around me had such power. The alchemists of Old World had tried for generations to magically produce gold, and had gotten nowhere fast. Whoever was responsible for this lacked enough practice—or skill—to determine how long the conversion ought to take. Or they’d been interrupted before the task was done.

The last bit that Kevin shared was more practical. It seemed that some college kids had found some similar samples here and there. Since they’d tried to sell the pseudo-gold to various black market locations, the shopkeepers had kept their eyes and ears open. With each fence knowing how to evaluate proper gold, the criminals realized the weight didn't add up. The kids had finally reached out to the campus’s archeology professor. Before I asked, Kevin sent me a list of addresses they’d attempted to sell the gold, and a detailed description of the area the kids said they’d found the stones. Whoever was out there apparently was practicing all over the place.

Taking a local area map, I jotted down what I believed were some of the locations, including my own, the rocks might be from. I also put down the scene of the destruction Cody had mentioned. Sadly, there was no apparent pattern. So much for that. The good news was that at least the person trying to use the artifact seemed to have remained in the area. This would be a lot harder with a moving target. A small town with its own secrets was difficult enough to keep track of some days.

The raven was pushing me to head outside to take another look, but I knew better. Right now, I had to go over everything again, in case I’d missed anything obvious, especially with the conversation with Kevin fresh in my mind. With an annoyed
kraa,
the raven finally let go of the idea of being able to stretch its wings. I found myself a comfortable spot and focused again on the papers in front of me.

Chapter Twelve

Cody

After talking with my grandmother, I gave my coyote the long run that he desperately craved. It felt good to let loose and chase down small animals. We ate a squirrel that didn’t scurry up a tree fast enough, then napped for a while.

Now I was back in my dorm room, freshly showered and listening to my roommate watch cartoons in the common room. Sometimes, I wished I'd gotten a studio apartment, even if it was in the rougher section of town. My roomies stayed up late watching TV every night, and while they tried to be polite and lower the volume, it didn't really help with my sensitive hearing.

I'd considered my options, but most of the time I just tossed a couple pillows over my head in an attempt to block out the noise. I laid there for a while, the thoughts of the day running through my head as I tried to sleep.

Tomorrow, I had a full day of classes, starting at nine o'clock with Concepts of Physics, so I needed my rest if I wanted to function. While I wasn't horrible at the subject, I had to keep my grades up enough for my scholarships. But I couldn't stop thinking about Morgana. The tears in her eyes, regardless of how badass she was, made me wish I'd stayed a little longer to tell her it was going to be okay. Maybe I should've been a better person, and not so stuck on what I was going through.

She had more going on than just trying to find my family's talisman, and I should have respected that, but I also knew that she was probably the only one who could help me figure this out. My archeology professor had given me a wizard's e-mail address, saying he knew someone who could help, and so far he seemed right.

My phone buzzed once. I jerked upright, but the vibrations didn’t continue to indicate a call. I lay back down, pissed that I was so antsy and anxious to hear back from her. Morgana had said she’d let me know when she found something out, and I couldn't expect her to move mountains in a few hours. Besides, it wasn't as if I'd gotten a lot of information from my grandmother that I could share with her. Even if I did call, she'd probably think I was being needy, and I didn't want to come across like that.

Shaking my thoughts aside, I rolled over onto my side, staring at the white wall and thinking about the first time I'd met her. I'd caught a glimpse of her naked body before she could make it around the corner, and it had turned me into a bumbling idiot. The combination of her sleek curves and the definition of her muscles awed me. It hadn't been my first time seeing a naked woman, but it was certainly the most pleasurable image I'd seen.

The television turned over to another cartoon channel, and I struggled not to listen in. If only I'd gotten some quiet guy who liked watching Netflix with headphones on, or better yet, reading in his room. But I'd have another two years to work on my selective hearing.

The phone buzzed out a steady tone, and I pushed out of bed, not wanting to get my hopes up again. A smile slid across my lips as I saw Morgana's number on the screen. It was her. I hadn't pissed her off as badly as I’d feared. Or, well, I'm pretty sure I had, but at least she was over it enough to talk with me about the job.

I sat on my bed and answered the phone. "Hey," I said.

"Hi Cody. I've been doing some digging with the information you provided, and I have some news. If you'd like to come by my place tomorrow, I'd be happy to brief you on what I've learned." Her tone was pleasant but professional.

"Great." I forced my voice to sound equally neutral, but my chest tightened, and I clenched my hand into a fist, trying not to feel the pang of rejection. She'd told me before that she wanted to keep things between us strictly business while I was her client. Probably even after, since she had hang-ups about getting into another relationship.