“Nothing so far,” she replied. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Black-clad workers swarmed from the truck, maneuvering a forklift. Ben and Erik stood back and let Sorren and Donnelly direct the crew, who didn’t seem to find the circumstances strange in the least.
Rowan remained on alert from attackers outside. After Donnelly’s comment to the ghosts clarifying that they weren’t thieves, Erik wasn’t worried about the spirits turning on them. Ben and Erik carried their guns in case mobsters showed up.
As the crates left the warehouse and the truck was loaded, Erik wondered if it was his imagination that the vibe shifted. He hadn’t been aware of a heaviness when they first arrived, but the more pieces of the dome that left the area, the more the energy cleared.
“I wonder if buying the dome is what got Bartolo killed?” Ben mused aloud. “And if it contributed to the hotel’s downfall.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Rowan replied as Donnelly and Sorren directed placement of the last crates onto the truck. “Makes me wonder about the origin of the dome. Some pieces are just born bad, but that’s usually by design. If the dome was commissioned for its original site, the artist had it in for them.”
Erik thought of the Commodore Wilson’s checkered past, unlucky even before the bombastic preacher took over. None of the prior owners had lasted long, and most either died young or were financially ruined by the huge old hotel. Against that history, the dome seemed like a poisonous flower, beautiful but deadly.
Donnelly stood in the center of the warehouse and turned in a slow circle, one hand outstretched. “I did a sweep of the building to make sure we got all the pieces. Definitely don’t want to leave any of that bad mojo behind.” He turned to Sorren, who was standing with the crew chief.
“We’ve got them all. Go ahead and lock it up,” he said as the last of the workers climbed back inside and the driver took his seat in the cab. The semi rumbled to life and pulled cautiously out of the darkened driveway.
Rowan secured the door to the warehouse and dimmed the conjured light to a glow of fire above her palm so they could see each other as they talked.
“Here’s the haunted window,” Erik returned with the spelled case, taking it to Soren’s SUV. “Good riddance. I hope you’ve got plenty of magic on this car and that semi.”
“Layers upon layers,” Donnelly assured them. “One of the crew is a talented witch. They’ll be okay—and so will we. The dome is now hidden again from anyone trying to scry for it.”
“Thank you for taking the windows off our hands,” Ben said. “There’s no real owner, and it was going to be a reason for The Collector and The Oligarch to keep poking around until someone found it.”
“The Alliance is aware of both men,” Sorren said with a definite tone of distaste. “We do our best to keep the worst items, like the dome, out of their hands. The underground trade in cursed and haunted objects is regrettably brisk.”
Given the death and damage Erik had witnessed with non-magical artwork in his years with Interpol, he didn’t envy the Alliance their task.
Donnelly walked back over to Erik and Ben. “Good to see you. Nice work on this. Try to stay out of trouble for a while.” He winked and got into the passenger seat.
“From him, that’s high praise,” Rowan confided before she joined Donnelly. “But you two had the odds stacked against you and still came out on top. That’s something to be proud of. Take care.”
That left Sorren, the last to leave. “Nice work. Thank you for keeping Cassidy in the loop. I know Charleston isn’t close, but when it’s important, we can get here. Call us when you need us.” Sorren slid behind the wheel and turned on the engine.
Erik and Ben got into their Highlander and led the way, with Sorren’s SUV behind them. They didn’t turn their lights on until they were on the main road.
Erik’s phone rang with a call from Rowan, and he put it on speaker. “Heads up,” she warned. “The ghosts say there’s a roadblock just down the road. Six black SUVs and at least a dozen men with weapons. I’m sensing someone with strong magic too.”
“Sounds like a mobster welcoming committee,” Ben muttered. “If The Collector or The Oligarch has been tailing us, maybe one of them decided to come in person to get the dome. Did the semi get through?”
“Yes,” Rowan replied. “We sent them in the opposite direction to take a roundabout route just in case something like this happened. They have magic and protections, but I’m hoping that they won’t need them. In that way, us drawing unwanted attention gives the truck a better chance to escape.”
“We’re right behind you,” Rowan continued. “Donnelly’s stirred up the ghosts to cause trouble, but we’re not likely to get past the goons without a fight.”
“We’re armed,” Erik replied. “Handguns, not machine guns.”
“I’ll disable their firearms,” Rowan said confidently. “And handle the magic of The Collector or Oligarch, if they’re here. Sorren will help take out the trash. We’ve got this.”
Something deep in the pit of Erik’s gut told him they had overlooked something, but he just nodded. “Roger that. Be careful.”
They spotted a firing squad of men in black fatigues, leveling machine guns at them.
“Hope Rowan is right about the guns, or this isn’t going to go well,” Erik muttered. Just in case, he turned to Ben. “I love you.”
“Love you too. And I’m betting on our side,” Ben reached over and squeezed Erik’s arm.
A tall man in a dark jacket stepped forward, confirming Erik’s worst fears.
