Relics (11 page)

“Can you think of anything else about angels or daemons that would be helpful to us?”

“Don't trust either one.” It sounded like good advice.

We didn't know if Jones could track items like Thulu did, but the assumption was he couldn't. I worked on my case list, adding Emily's body, the locket and, of course, Jenna's parents. I also added the other two panels, the dagger, cup, pitcher and scroll. Although, Mason knew where the dagger was and hopefully would tell us, once he woke up. If he woke up.

While it was very unusual for Thulu to not have a clear picture of things, it did happen from time to time. I could tell he was uneasy about his inability to see any of these things. I wondered if Jones being a daemon was interfering with Thulu's ability. It could also be another party or maybe the items themselves. Too many variables. We needed something concrete.

Hopefully one of the relics was in Jane's house. It was the obvious starting point, lacking a supernatural hint. We tried to approach every site as if we knew nothing about it, without any preconceived ideas of where something might be. That gave us a level playing field to get a sense of things. This case would be no different.

We wanted Jane's help getting into the house, though. We called her in and asked her for her login information on her account. We explained that we'd rather have Cara let us in than be discovered.

Since “Thulukan Agency” was vague enough to be anything, we decided we'd be interior decorators that Jane had hired to redo some of the rooms inside the house. She dictated a post for Thulu to type onto her wall. This would hopefully head off any concerns. Since it really was Jane, it sounded like her, rather than the silly posts Jones had put there.

Jane also dictated a private message to Cara, telling her she had forgotten to leave a key with us. She gave our cover story of redoing a few rooms in her house. Cara was to let us have free reign inside. Jane trusted us completely since she had met us at her church.

We gave her surprised looks, but she gave us back a smile and said that would alleviate any concerns Cara might have. I had my doubts about that, but Jane insisted. She had Thulu add that we were new there, but lovely people. That made me roll my eyes.

Thulu added our phone number and asked Cara to call and make arrangements as soon as possible. Jane said she was excited about getting a new “look” for inside.  She ended with sending her love. She was tempted to have Thulu write more, but we said it might make Cara suspicious. Thulu hit send, and all that was left was to wait for Cara to call.

We thanked Jane for her help, and she disappeared. The kids had gone into the family room earlier that night and were once again watching TV.

The doorbell rang. I realized we hadn't set the alarm when we came in.

Parker looked over and said, “It's fine. It's a delivery guy.”

“We didn't order anything, Park,” I said. Parker shrugged, clearly not worried, which eased my mind a bit. Our very own watch ghost. Nice.

Thulu went to get the door and came back carrying a sealed cardboard envelope.

“From Jones,” he said. Parker and Jenna drifted over as he ripped open the tab and lifted the flap. He pulled out a parchment envelope addressed to “Thulu and La Fi” and a larger manila envelope, which he handed to me. The parchment envelope had a small blob of sealing wax embossed with an elaborate “D.” That stopped me for a second, before I remembered Dhavenbahtek was supposedly his real name. If it wasn't, it was a nice touch.

Thulu reached for a letter opener he kept on his desk and slipped it under the seal. He opened the flap and pulled out a heavy note card. It was written in old fashioned, elegant handwriting. Thulu read it and then handed it to me.

“I decided to send quite a few pictures, rather than just email them. Should you care to see the original items, I will be happy to oblige.”

It was signed simply “D.” Inside were the promised pictures, 8 by 10s. They showed the items from every conceivable angle. I took the pictures and spread them out one by one across our desks. We pulled our chairs together to go over each shot individually.

Parker and Jenna looked over our shoulders from mid-air for a bit, but soon they went back to the TV.

“Wow, these are awesome,” said Thulu.

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded. “They really are.”

We spent the next half hour going through the pictures.

The first series of pictures showed a carved and painted panel. A female figure was seated at a low table. In front of her was a basket of rice plants, a mortar and pestle, and a gold plate containing several small, white balls. The plate itself was done in thick gold leaf, and the entire panel looked to be heavily lacquered. The colors were somewhat faded overall, but the original brightness was mostly intact. It was beautiful, with reds, blues, greens and yellows. The wood looked to be medium in color, but it was hard to tell what kind it was in the picture.

The next panel was again carved, painted and lacquered. As in the first panel, there was a basket of rice plants. Next was a bowl, covered with a cloth. The last item on the table was stunning. Overlaid with heavy gold leaf, it showed an elaborate pitcher. The pitcher was a dragon sitting upright, balanced on his tail which curved up to form a handle. The top of the head hinged back to show the lower jaw as the spout.

I have a thing for dragons, so this caught my attention. I pulled the close-up of the pitcher to one side so I could look at it again. I already wanted one like it.

The last series of pictures were of the actual gold plate. The plate was of beaten gold and had a shallow depression with a wide rim. It was thicker than most ancient gold artifacts. One picture showed the plate next to a ruler. It was about six inches in diameter. It looked far more ancient than the Tang Dynasty. At least to my unpracticed eye, it seemed to be a lot older in style. The center of the plate was embossed with a dragon in the same style as the pitcher.

I made a note to ask Jones for more of the history on these items. I leaned back in my chair, pulling my feet up to sit cross-legged.

“You getting a sense of anything, yet?” I asked Thulu.

I watched as he closed his eyes. Thulu's gift was usually pretty reliable. He'd get a sense of where something was, and we'd know exactly where to go to get it. I figured the locket was a problem because it was new and hadn't been given to the intended owner. This wasn't the first time we'd had to find something new, but they could be tricky.

I was quiet as Thulu kept his eyes closed. He'd tried to explain the process to me, but it sounded a bit disorganized and imprecise, which was completely at odds with my usually organized husband. He said he didn't direct it; he just opened himself up and he'd know what to do. Whatever – it worked. I couldn't explain how I saw ghosts and other supernatural beings or understood languages I'd never studied, either.

I gathered up the pictures and put them back in the envelope. I turned to my computer, checked my email and surfed the web while I waited. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, he opened his eyes and gave me an impish grin. “Jane's.”

I looked over at him in disbelief. “That's it?”

“Yep.” He gave me a self-satisfied smirk and turned to his own computer.

“Fifteen minutes and you tell me what we already decided to do?” Wonderful.

“Hey, at least now I know something is definitely there.”

“Lovely.” I was not impressed.

“I want to call Jones tomorrow, too. After I find his relic at Jane's.” He was still smirking.

“Fine. Assuming he doesn't teleport in or something.” I shrugged. “Is it a relic or the locket?”

Thulu frowned. “I'd say relic. The locket is a blank, maybe because it's so new.” As I'd thought. “The relics are – weird.”

“Shouldn't they be easier?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, in theory they should be, but it's like everything is fogged over. I get these glimpses, but with no location or anything else around them to get a reference point.” We stared at each other, and then Thulu shook his head and shrugged. “I'm going to play for a bit. Clear my mind.”

We logged into our game for a short while before turning in. Killing imaginary monsters is very therapeutic. I have to admit that more than one had Jones's face in my mind. I caught that smirk still on Thulu's face when I glanced over after one particular demon died the good death. I frowned at him, which made him laugh. I hid my own smile.

“I saw that,” he informed me.

“Saw what?  I have no idea what you're talking about.”

My attention was back onscreen. “PAT coming.” We pivoted our characters and began killing the demon that had tried to sneak up behind us. I could have sworn he looked like Jones, too.

Cara called the next morning, and we arranged to meet her at her office in an hour. We stopped by our own office on the way and put up a sign that said we were going to be out for a while.

Cara's office was not all that far from ours, but it was located in a much nicer neighborhood. It was a converted house and held several medical offices. The waiting room was about half full when we arrived. The receptionist's name tag said she was Eleanor. In her late forties, she had a rather formidable manner. However, when we introduced ourselves, her smile was quick and warm. She invited us to sit down as the doctor was currently with a patient.

I stoically pulled out my tablet and switched on my reading app, while Thulu played a game on his phone. After a fifteen minute wait, a young nurse escorted us back to the doctor's private office.

Cara Andrews was a lovely young woman. She had that tired look that recent residents had, but she also had an energy about her that was inviting. She wore her hair short and reminded me a bit of Halle Berry.

We spent a few minutes in small talk, describing the work we had done in our own home for a more realistic tone for our “decorating business.”

“To be honest, I don't know why Gran wants to redo the inside. I love it the way it is, but it's her house and if it makes her happy, what can we do?” She gave us a piercing look, weighing us. We both looked back placidly.

“Our Nanas are the same way. It's not worth arguing with them because we're never going to win.” I smiled understandingly.

Cara gave a soft laugh. “Too true.” She picked up an envelope from her desk. It had our agency name on it.

“Well, here you go. I still have a key, so I can keep the plants watered. I hope you'll keep the charm that old house has.”

“That's a promise we can be sure to keep.” Thulu showed his dimples. We said our goodbyes and made our way out of the office.

In the car, I opened the envelope, while Thulu drove. It contained the key and a one page note with Jane's name and the address of her home.

We headed straight over to the old Victorian. It was lovely from the outside. Recently painted a pale blue with dark blue trim, it sported hanging plants on the front porch and a swing on one end. The similarity to our own home made me smile. The front door was a dark blue with small windows that boasted a frosted design. The exterior was very inviting.

Thulu opened the door. The slightly dusty smell of empty house drifted out. Late morning light filtered through windows. We stepped in, not knowing what to expect. From the front hall we couldn't see any damage. Jane had said the house was clean and showed no signs of her murder. She was right.

A quick peek around showed the plants were damp and nothing appeared out of place on the ground floor. We went upstairs and found nothing wrong there, either. Even Jane's bedroom didn't leave a hint to what had happened just a week before. Jones was really good at covering up his crimes, that was for sure.

“I forgot to ask where the sea captain's diary was,” I said with chagrin.

“It's upstairs in the attic. I'll show you.” Robin lounged in the hallway. I wondered how long he'd been hanging out here.

“Gran sent me to help.” That explained that.

“Great.” I hid a sigh and forced a smile. He had looked for the treasure, and maybe he actually could help. And once I thought about it, I guess I couldn't blame him completely for Jane's death – or his own. Any Oriental treasure mentioned was sure to catch Jones's attention, and he wasn't exactly rational about it. Jones probably would have found his way to the Andrews on his own, even if he hadn't known Robin.

As we followed Robin upstairs, I wondered if Jones was going to make his way through every supposed treasure he heard about or if he had hints steering him in certain directions. If so, he hadn't shared that information with us.

There were tons of Oriental treasures in San Francisco alone, never mind the rest of the planet. And while Thulu insisted Jane's was our best bet, I could only hope this was going to be part of the group of relics that we were looking for. It was bad enough that Jane and Robin had been killed for this. I hated to think that it might not even be for the right objects.

I brushed this thought away immediately, irritated with myself. Being murdered for any reason was awful and one of the worst things I could think of. Right or wrong relics, they didn't justify any deaths. Besides, I had faith in Thulu's ability. If he said this was where we needed to be, then so be it.

Thulu told Robin that we were looking for a panel, cup, pitcher or scroll.

We moved down the second floor hallway to a set of back stairs that led to the third story, which had formerly been the servants' quarters.

“So why didn't Jones tear this place apart?  You think he has a sense of these things?” I asked Thulu.

“Maybe. Hard to say anything about Jones.”

Robin led us to a door at the end of this hallway.

I stopped and tried to sense if there was any remnant of the sea captain. Not that I expected it, but it was worth a try.

“Robin, is the sea captain here?  Have you seen any other ghosts in the house since you died?”

He moved back beside me, head tilted to one side.

“No, La Fi. No one else here.”

“Okay, thanks.” Of course not, that would have been way too easy.

Thulu opened the door to a very narrow set of stairs that led up to the attic. The attic spanned the entire length and width of the house. Light filtered in a few windows that were surprisingly clean. Although, I shouldn't have been surprised that even Jane's attic was spotless and organized.

Thulu headed for some old trunks set side by side along the shorter back wall. He stood in front of them for a moment, then opened one in the middle.

“Yep, that's it, Thulu. The journal should be on top,” Robin said as Thulu pulled out an old, dark brown leather book. A thin, flat, woven silk ribbon was attached at the top and hung over the back. A small key was tied to the end of it.

Thulu held the journal in his hand for a moment. He began to gently leaf through it, randomly stopping here and there to read passages. I moved over, but I didn't read over his shoulder. I knew he was getting a sense of where the passage was that we needed, assuming there was one. A glimpse showed me small, cramped writing. I wasn't in a hurry to decipher that.

“Here we go.” Thulu's dimples were showing as he read the date from the journal, but they disappeared quickly as he read out loud.

“July 12, 1860. I have arrived home safe and sound yet again. Polly seemed in distress and retired to her room soon after I was settled in my chair. Her silly, little cream colored Spitz, Sophie, followed after her, gamely wagging her tail. It seemed an effort for Polly to smile and her greeting was very weak, I thought. I think she is much sicker than she was before I left for this last voyage. Her skin is very pale and her hands shook noticeably. I did not show her my treasure, but kept it back for when she is stronger. I will not soon leave again, but will stay home to see to her well-being.”

Thulu and I looked at each other. He scanned through the next few pages. Robin stood listening quietly. Thulu looked up at me again before he returned to the journal.

“August 29, 1860. This week has been the hardest of my life. Harder than the time we were becalmed at sea, with water and rations running low and my men slowly dying around me. Last week, on August 23, I lost my beloved Polly.”

Another exchanged look. One that said we empathized and hoped we never truly understood. We often said that we doubted one of us would survive long without the other. We certainly did not want that put to the test. I moved beside Thulu, and he put an arm around me as he continued to read.

“I must confess that I am glad we did not have children. It would be too cruel for them to lose their mother. I will say here what I dare not say to any living soul. I used the treasure cup to give Polly water. I had been told it was an ancient, magic cup. The old man in Shanghai insisted it was so. I did not believe him, but his price was small enough. His desperation must have been great indeed, as I think it is solid gold and not gold-plated, as he seemed to think.

“When Polly took such a sudden turn for the worse, I brought out the treasure cup and showed her. Her eyes lit up for a few moments, and she was able to drink a few drops of pure water. She was amused at the story and smiled at me. When she fell asleep, she was still smiling. I did not know that she would never wake up.

“Did I kill my beloved wife, or did the cup ease her passing?  These are questions that will haunt me the rest of my life. Numerous friends made their condolence visits and helped with much of the arrangements. John proved to be an even better friend than I knew and sat with me for hours.

“Little Sophie followed me around. She sat looking at me so sadly, whining for Polly. I could satisfy neither the small dog, nor myself. Now and again, she went in to the parlor door, but she seemed averse to being in the room where Polly's body was on view. I believe she knew that our real Polly was no longer in that flesh. Sophie refused to eat or drink, and this morning I found her cold and tiny body beside my bed. I buried her beneath the roses she so liked to shred in spring. Polly would have wanted it so.

“John says I should return to sea, but my heart is not in that. Nor are my years as young as they should be. I felt a chill last night, in spite of the heat. One that went to the bone. I feel as though my years have tripled since my Polly has gone. I am old. I am used up. I will put up the ship to sell and will stay home. The treasure cup will remain here, hidden safely away.”

I had tears in my eyes as Thulu looked up.

“That's the end of the journal.” Thulu was moved too and his voice was thick with emotion. We kept silent for a long time. I could hear traffic from the street and a small dog barking outside for a few moments, but it stopped. We stayed that way a long time. Even Robin was very still.

The barking started again.

“That dog annoys me,” Robin said. “It barks and I go out to yell at it and it's never there. I don't know which neighbor it belongs to.”

I looked at him questioningly.

“I've been trying to find the treasure, so I spend time here.”

I nodded. Something about the barking, though.

“Hey!” I started across the room and down the stairs. “That dog is inside the house.” I could hear a peculiar echo.

“Fi?” Thulu followed after me, carrying the journal. Robin was close behind.

“Downstairs.”

I moved quickly down stairwells and hallways, following the barking dog. I traced it to the back of the house and the kitchen. Pushing the swinging door to the kitchen ever so slightly, I peeked in, ready to run if it looked like the dog would attack. It might sound small, but teeth were teeth and didn't belong in my skin – above or below the ankle. The barking stopped as I made eye contact with dark eyes in a small bundle of fur. I eased the door shut, and the barking turned to whining.

I gave Thulu a rather sheepish smile, shook my head slightly and shrugged my shoulders before opening the door wide. No need to worry about teeth, after all.

A tiny ball of fur immediately ran toward us, skidded to a halt, sat down quickly and looked up at us expectantly. It jumped up and ran to the back door, fluffy tail wagging.

Thulu grinned and bent down. “Ah, now I see. Hi there, Sophie, girl. You've been here a long time, haven't you?”

Her answer was a quick bark. She was a beautiful cream colored Pomeranian. Polly's “silly little dog.” Now that she finally had people who could see and hear her, she seemed excited and full of life. I know, Sophie had been dead over one hundred and fifty years, but try telling her that.

“I know where the cup is,” Thulu said with a grin. I caught on right away.