Yes, that one. Let me text you the address. Its currently owned by an antiques store called Stuarts Stuff. Hang on.
Dane smiled at the flock of seabirds swooping over the beach. But his levity was more for the discovery hed made weeks earlier while going through some of the Agencys old files.
Dane was head of Weapons. Well, he was the only one in the department. It was newly created because there had been a need. Their crew was small and distributed across the United States and Europe. Tor Rindle was the head of the Agency and had been visiting the States when he and Dane had metover the disintegrating fur, flesh and bones of a werewolf.
Yeah, that had taken a lot of philosophy-changing faith on Danes part. He was a geologist who had never met a conspiracy theory he didnt want to debunk. But the werewolf? Dane had no choice but to believe. And he had been strangely thankful when Tor had told him about the Agency and offered him the job. Such work aligned with a weird memory hed had from when he was eight. The Agency was secretive, which was cool. James Bond gadgets were not in abundance, though. They used science to debunk myth and the paranormalto keep humanity safe from the real monsters.
Whether or not the dagger listed on the file card possessed any sort of paranormal powers hadnt been recorded. Danes job was to rule out that sort of stuff. Or if not, to put a spin on it. Not that this was an official job. He was simply curious. Or rather, compelled after hed seen his fathers name listed on the card. A man he had known only for the first few years of his life, and known simply meant that hed been his son and had existed in the mans life.
And to think the word compelled set his heart racing. The first time hed learned the meaning of that word he had been eight. And the few times since then that a compulsion had come upon him, hed always been whisked back to that time when his mother had found him standing in the basement, sword in hand. Shed been so angry. Outraged. He hadnt understood.
But he was compelled to understand now, because it might fill in some integral knowledge he required to become completely whole. To simply know.
Sent it, Jason said over the line. Do you know this one has a legend attached to it of belonging to a witch hunter? Not sure if the blade itself is supposed to possess magical capabilities. But you know, witches.
Yeah. Witches. Dane chuckled. Its always something.
Though hed not encountered witches in his service to the Agency, he was always up for an adventure, both physically and mentally. And learning about new creatures? Fascinating stuff. Because really? The world was a better place thanks to the Agencys ability to think fast and to explain away the unexplainable with complicated scientific terms and theories.
So why this blade, said Jason, if I can ask? I mean, this isnt an assigned job. Whats so remarkable about this item?
Dane twisted at the waist and turned, which flexed his abs. His muscles were rapidly cooling, even with the warm suit to protect him from the chilly temperature. He wasnt much of a sharer. Then again, Jason was an okay guy, and it wasnt as though he was going to call up the boss and tell him Dane was using Agency time to pursue personal issues.
The last known owner was my father.
Oh man, cool. So, was he the witch hunter?
Dane chuckled. I doubt that very much.
On the other hand, what did he know about his father? Edison Winthur had died during a cave spelunking expedition. Hed fallen five hundred yards down a narrow chute, and his body had never been recovered. It had occurred a year after Danes mother had divorced him. Dane had been three when Edison died.
And still his mothers words resounded loudly in his thoughts. Dont be like your father. He was such a dreamer.
Should I schedule you for a weeklong vacation so we dont overbook you? Jason asked.
Dane had to shake himself back from the haunting warning his mother had issued so many times. Uh, sure. Give me a few days, at the very least.
Fine. I have a contact name for the shop owner. Im texting that to you, too.
Where is this place?
In a northern suburb of Minneapolis.
Seriously? Dane winced as a sea breeze skinned his face with a cold kiss. Isnt it, like, thirty degrees in Minnesota right now?
Do I sense an inordinate fear of the weather from the guy who surfs in January?
Never. But you know, anything below fifty is crazy cold.
Ha! Youll have to bring along a sweater. Give me a call when you have the dagger in hand. Unless...youre doing this one under the radar?
Not at all. The dagger wasnt an assigned job, but I have no intention of keeping it a secret. Whatever I find will be documented, and Ill address any issues regarding spin or how it should be stored when Ive had a look at it.
Cool. Ive got you scheduled through the week. I can arrange a flight for you, as well. Will text the details.
Thanks, Jason.
Dane hung up and tugged at the zipper on his wet suit.
The key goal in finding this dagger would, with any luck, answer the questions hed asked himself since he was eight. Was this the same dagger?
The secondary goal was more emotionally rooted in the limited knowledge hed been given about his father. Hed always wanted to learn as much as he could about a man his mother had described as having his head in the clouds. And hed lost track of how many times shed admonished Dane not to be like his father.
Having ones head in the clouds didnt sound dangerous to Dane. Only if one also lacked logic and rationality, which he subscribed to. Always.
What an opportunity that would be, to hold something his father had actually owned. Or rather, to hold it once again.
But had the old man been a witch hunter?
Doubt it, he muttered, and grabbed his board.
* * *
Dane had joked with Jason about Minnesota being thirty degrees on this January day. Actually, it was two. Degrees. Hed left the beach for two degrees. And he felt both those single digits breeze through his lightweight wool jacket and permeate his tweed vest and the dress shirt beneath as the chill fixed itself into his skin and sent out wicked feelers for the network of his once-warm veins.
He rushed down a sidewalk edged with dirty snow heaps the city plow had pushed up as his cab had parked in the nearby lot. The concrete was white from the chemicals added to the sodium chloride used in abundance on the roads. The first time hed ever heard the term salting the roads Dane had imagined a large kitchen saltshaker suspended from the back of a truck. His childhood imagination had been so vivid (when his mother wasnt aware).
He had that very imagination to thank for being here right now. And he wasnt sure whether or not it was something he should be thankful for. Fantasy was best served in small doses, and even then, only on the silver screen or the pages of a novel. Very well; his mother had been right.
Dane whispered his thanks when the antiques shop door opened to whoosh a welcoming warmth across his frozen cheeks. He huffed and clapped his gloved hands together, stomping his feet, even though there was no snow on his leather loafers. The weird stomping-clapping performance managed to get the warmth flowing through his system.
A kind-looking woman, who looked to be in her eighties, appeared from behind a glass case and sailed over to the counter, which was littered with an assortment of Halloween ornaments and wooden black cats, bright orange Halloween Festival buttons and a plethora of orange-and-black garland.
A kind-looking woman, who looked to be in her eighties, appeared from behind a glass case and sailed over to the counter, which was littered with an assortment of Halloween ornaments and wooden black cats, bright orange Halloween Festival buttons and a plethora of orange-and-black garland.
Im Dane Winthur, he announced, with a chill invading his tone. A colleague of mine should have called about a dagger two days ago? Jason had said hed handle alerting the shop that Dane was on his way.
A dagger? The woman shook her head and adjusted the frothy white hair piled loosely atop her head.
Yes, uh... I was told Mr. Stuart is the owner? Is he in?
Mr. Winther, Im so sorry, my brother and his wife are out of town for a family funeral. Just left this morning, actually. Oh, wait now. I do recall him mentioning something as he was going through the list of things for me to do in his absence. Youre the scientist, yes?
Dane bristled but tried his best not to show it. The owner of this antiques shop had known he was coming to pick up the dagger. Traveling halfway across the United States andhe wasnt here? That took some kind of nerve, to up and leave without calling to let him know.
Yes, he answered, calming his rising ire. Ive traveled from California to your lovely yet icy state for the dagger. He patted his vest pocket, where hed tucked the dossier and a printed photo of the dagger, and pulled it out. Unfolding it, he showed it to the woman. Did Mr. Stuart leave it in your care?
Not exactly. She squinted as she studied the photo. Harold did mention you were coming as he headed off to the airport. He was in a hurry because they managed to snag a pair of last-minute standby seats for the flight to Hawaii. Im so sorry, Mr. Winthur. You know how funerals are. Cant plan for them.
Of course. Well. Does not exactly mean no, not at all, or maybe, I might know where the dagger is?
It means maybe, I dont know where it is. I mean, I do know where it is, but I dont have access to it. We were going to close the shop, because Im not much for handling inventory and the finer items my brother stocks, but I do like to hand out my cookies to the locals. Help yourself. The woman gestured to a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the counter that Dane hadnt noticed before.
Now that he did, his frozen senses thawed and the scent of sugar and chocolate teased sweetly. He picked up a cookie. It was warm, bless the cookie gods. Had he been annoyed about something? Who could remain angry when biting into chewy, warm chocolate and sugar?
A funeral. He couldnt possibly be rude and insist on anything, but he would nudge as best he could. How long will your brother be away?
Four or five days. The flight takes almost a whole day, so thats two days of travel time right there.
The funeral is in Hawaii? A much better placefor a vacation or a funeralthan this Arctic tundra. Lucky fellow.
Ah? Hmm... She tugged the plate back to her side of the counter.
Sorry. I mean, really sorry. For the, er, bereaved. So he wasnt a master at compassion. Feelings were so...complicated. Did Mr. Stuart leave the blade in a safe or some such?
Oh, he did, but its a newfangled fancy-doodle kind of thing that requires him putting his eye up to it to open.
Oh. Biometric, eh? Quite a fancy-doodle thing, indeed.
Especially for a run-down little shop that currently offered a sale on 1970s disco balls, as displayed in the front window. After New Years Discount! Get Them Before Theyre Gone! Had he stepped into the seventies?
I really do need to get my hands on that dagger, Dane said. The information Ive collected about it states it once belonged to Edison Winthur. He was my father.
Oh, my. Thats mighty interesting. Hes passed?
Yes, when I was very young.
Im so sorry. The cookie plate was pushed closer. Harold should have left the dagger out for me to sell to you, but hes always been so careful about the weapons he sells. High security, and all that fiddle-faddle.
Fiddle-faddle can be a bother. Dane crossed his arms high on his chest and fought to keep from asking if he could take a look at the safe. But it would be impossible to crack if it required the owners retinal scan.
The agency I work for has a penchant for tracking down weapons with a fantastical legend attached to them. He never explained the Agency beyond that. What people didnt know regarding the Agency, they didnt need to learn. Im also a geologist. The metals used in ancient swords and blades fascinate me.
I thought geology was rocks? the old woman asked.
It is, but the cold iron used in the Dane winced and nodded. Yes, just rocks. Uh, so your brother will be back...when?
Friday.
And today was Monday. Must he stay here an entire week? In what closely resembled a storm-ravaged tundra? And the old man had insisted someone pick up the dagger in person. He hadnt wanted to send it by post. A wise decision when it came to weapons that could possess a volatile nature. Of course, Mr. Stuart couldnt know about that. Or could he?
Hmm...
Dane smiled at the woman through a tight jaw.
Will it be a problem for you to stay in our fine little town for a bit? There are hotels along Highway 10, not far from here. Oh! And theres the Winter Fantasy Ball this evening over at the Bleekwood mansion. You might stop in. I suspect the local girls would love to marvel over such a fine, er, studious fellow as yourself.
Dane nodded appreciatively even as he felt the back of his neck heat. A geriatric flirting with him? It was sweet. But a week in this icebox? He wasnt sure his sand-and-surf blood could manage that long without freezing.
A biometric safe. Just his luck.
On the other hand, he did favor a rousing adventure. Learning to survive in the icy tundra? Sign him up!
He shoved a hand in his pocket, where he touched the comforting curve of a plastic Bic lighter. He always carried one with him. He wasnt a smoker, but when he became agitated, he calmed himself by flicking it over and over.
Hey, to each his own.
He palmed another cookie and bit into it. Tell me the best place to stay around here?
Chapter 2
Oh, Eryss! You look gorgeous!
Eryss Norling turned to spy her coworker Mireio Malory flouncing toward her in an eighteenth century ball gown, replete with a pink powdered wig and décolletage cut low enough to make promises without a single spoken word. Eryss hugged her and smiled at Mireios signature sugar-candy scent, then tucked a stray bright red curl up under her friends wig.
You must be Marie Antoinette? Eryss guessed.
Natch, Mireio said, with a flutter of her lush false lashes. Shes my spirit animal, you know.
I thought that was a mermaid.
That, too! And in a poufy dress! But look at you, all silver and blue and looking like the Snow Queen herself. Love the wig.
Eryss adjusted the too-tight tinsel wig with a tug above her ear. Shed found it at the local costume shop just down the street from the brewery. I wanted to get into the snow fantasy. Winter is my season.
And you never feel cold. Always so warm. She clasped Erysss hand and squeezed. See? Youre warm as toast. And my tits are in desperate need of a nice warm sweater. Or Ill take a handsome male head lying on them if I can manage that. The eligible bachelor pickings tonight are slim. Have you seen Valor?