Page 13 of Silk Skullduggery (Haven Hollow #40)

It was so late by the time I got home that it was now way too early, and as evening based as the auction house was, I doubted that anyone would be answering the phone this close to dawn.

I figured I’d fire off an email, hoping there would be a response for me by the time I woke up, but no such luck. My day started out as being very annoying and was only steadily getting worse.

Why? Because Lorcan hadn’t come home. Again. Oh, he sent texts full of apologies and made all kinds of assurances that everything was fine. Except, of course, when I asked him to call the auction house, as he was technically the rightful buyer, he begged off, citing an emergency situation that he was dealing with.

He did send a picture conveniently time stamped again, so at least I knew he hadn’t disappeared somewhere over the horizon, but it certainly did set a tone for the rest of my day. And I could say this much; if someone didn’t start coughing up some kind of answers, I was going to go full on Wicked Witch.

Honestly, if things hadn’t been in so much turmoil regarding Haven Hollow, I would have been half tempted to drive myself to Seattle, and just shake someone from the auction house until an explanation fell out. For the moment though, I was going to stick to a phone call. But if I didn’t get anything out of them this time, I’d be on the next broomstick headed north.

The phone only rang once before it was answered by an extremely cheerful sounding man whose day I was about to absolutely ruin. “Emerald City Auction House, Ethan speaking, how can I help you?”

“Hello, Ethan.” My voice was a low purr that Lorcan would have recognized as a sign to duck for cover. “My name is Wanda. I purchased something from your auction house a few days ago; a length of beautiful white silk.”

“Oh. Yes.” His voice stayed polite but became more distant. “Claudia left a note on the file. She said you’d had some questions about provenance. I’m terribly sorry we couldn’t help you.”

Questions about provenance , my flawless backside. I could just bet what notes that ninny had left about me.

I smiled, wide enough that I knew Ethan would be able to hear it. “Oh, I understand. Record keeping regarding the objects you sell isn’t something you take seriously. It’s a shame, but what can you do?”

Ethan sputtered, trying to protest, but I just sailed on past him. “Before we get into the reason I’m calling, Ethan, let me ask you this: if I told you I live in Haven Hollow, would that mean anything to you?”

There was a little hitch in his breath, and my smile turned predatory.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “It does.” Okay, that was good. I’d already figured that chances were he wasn’t a human if he was employed at the auction house and now that hunch was pretty much cemented.

“Wonderful. So, when I tell you that I’m the High Witch of the local coven here, and that your employer sold me a cursed item without warning me or supplying any kind of information at all about said item, then you have some idea of what a poor decision that would be, wouldn’t you?”

Yes, I’d admitted to being a High Witch when I was really supposed to be a vampire, but I didn’t think poor Ethan would know better than to bring it up to someone who might know better. As far as I was concerned, he needed to know I was a High Witch and that I had magical backup. And I was fairly sure nothing would go further than this conversation. I hoped so anyway.

“A cursed item?” Ethan’s voice was muffled for a second, like he was mopping at his face and the cloth brushed the receiver. “But we never… that it to say… we haven’t–”

“But you did, Ethan. With no warning. Marked as something benign.” All the cheer leaked out of my voice, and I let him hear just how angry I was. “There was a time when something like this would be considered an act of war by the covens. That’s not what you want, is it, Ethan?”

“No! No, of course not. We didn’t… I…”

I didn’t like bullying people. Well, maybe I did a little, but not people who weren’t in charge and hadn’t really done anything to me. And Ethan sounded about half a breath away from quitting. Or crying, maybe. And I wasn’t on the line for an apology or anything like that. I just needed to know what I was dealing with. And if I had to make an underpaid and overstressed employee cry in order to keep people alive, well, that was my burden to bear.

I had to call his name twice to get his attention, and his breathing was still heavy enough that I had to raise my voice just a little to be sure he could actually hear me. “Ethan, I need you to find out whatever you can about that silk. Anything. The smallest bit of information could help me.”

“Help you?” he asked, sounding baffled. “Of course! Just… I’ll be right back.”

From the sound of the clunk of the phone being put down, the poor boy hadn’t even put me on hold or anything. He’d just dropped the receiver and run off. My fingers were crossed that he hadn’t just quit and fled the building, because then I’d have to call back and do this whole song and dance again. And my night wasn’t getting any younger.

The minutes dragged on by, intolerably slowly. I started to take personal offence to every tick of the clock that was hanging on the wall. I had to start seriously considering that Ethan had just run off into the night, never to come back again, when the phone was finally snatched up once more, signified by the sound of heavy breathing.

Ethan continued to pant into the phone, each breath sending a jolt of static across the line. I winced, holding the receiver away from my face, trying to preserve my sensitive ears.

“Miss?” he gasped, sounding like he’d just run a marathon. “Are you still there?”

“Of course I am, Ethan. Did you find something for me?”

Keeping my voice steady was a struggle. Nerves collided with eagerness in my stomach and made a very uneasy cocktail. I was as eager to hear what he might have found as I was worried it would be nothing.

“I really am sorry, Miss,” he said, voice trembling. “There isn’t very much to go on, Claudia told the truth there. But I did find something… tucked away in the file. It’s some sort of letter that came with the silk when it was originally shipped.”

From crushing despair, right back up to hope. The entire conversation was like riding a roller coaster. “What? What is it?” The phone creaked, and I loosened my grip. I didn’t always know my own strength anymore.

Ethan cleared his throat, but that didn’t hide the tremble when he spoke. “It, um, it’s just a note, Miss. It just says that the silk was originally from Japan.”

“Japan?”

“Yeah, that’s what it says—from a town near the south-west coast of the island, and that it was woven just shy of two centuries ago. There isn’t anything more that I can see. I’m sorry and, um, I hope… well, I hope that helps you.”

Japan. Like that narrowed it down at all. It was a whole country, one I didn’t know very much about, other than the fact that it had a rich supernatural community. Why even include a note with the silk when it didn’t give any real information?

Maybe there was still something. “Was the note written by the people who sold the silk to you?”

“Um, no, ma’am—from what I can tell, the writing and the letter are pretty old—the cursive is kind of faded and the paper is all creased and yellowed with age. And it’s not in English, but Kanji which is the oldest of the Japanese languages.”

Hmm, apparently the auction house did a good job of training their people on the specifics of each item. Interesting that no one had mentioned the origins of the silk when they’d auctioned it. I had to imagine that was on purpose.

“If it’s written in Kanji, then how do you know what it says?”

“Oh, there’s another note with a translation. And that note looks a little more recent.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

“So, I’m thinking the note was probably passed down along with the silk—maybe through the family that sold it to us? But like I said, they or someone translated the original note for us, though, so there’s that.”

“So you still have the original note? The one that was written in Kanji?”

“Uh, yes ma’am.”

“Good, very good.”

“Why? Can you read Japanese?”

No.

“Yes,” I lied, crossing my fingers. “Ethan, I need you to send me the original note. I don’t care how, but I need it right now. The translation, too. Overnight it to me if you have to, just get it here.”

“Wait,” Ethan stammered. “I can’t do that. I mean, I just–”

Witches had always been associated with cats by humans throughout history. Sometimes snakes, or owls, but cats tended to be the stereotype, which I always found hilarious. If I had to pick an animal that represented the witches I’d grown up with in the coven, I would have chosen the shark. Always moving, always prowling, hunting for more power, a higher position, more status. Never still, never resting, but always dangerous.

It wasn’t what I wanted for Circle Scapegrace, but that didn’t mean that my upbringing didn’t impart some benefits. Because, listening to Ethan stutter and stammer, I smelled blood in the water. With an eager smile, I moved in for the kill.

“The note is regarding my property, isn’t it, Ethan?”

“Well, I guess so.”

“So, doesn’t that mean that the note also belongs to me since I purchased the lot?”

“Um…”

“And why would your employers keep something that pertains to something I purchased? That doesn’t seem to make very much sense, does it, Ethan?”

I heard defeat in the following silence.

“I’ll have a courier bring the notes to you, ma’am. Of course, you have every right to them both. I only hope you find the information you’re looking for.”

“I hope so, too,” I muttered after a few more insincere pleasantries.

Maybe it was nothing. Honestly, with the way my luck had been going, the note was probably cursed, too.

But there was just something nagging at the back of my head. The note had been sent with the silk—the silk had been passed down with the note, as far as I had pieced together. The sellers had included it, probably as some kind of record or proof of origin, but there wasn’t really anything to it, unless there was and I just wasn’t getting it yet? Right—I had to see the original note and see if it opened any other doors.

All I did know was that there had been something terrible trapped in the silk, woven into it, bound and locked away. And that something had gone unrevealed, until a bit of Blood Magic got into the mix. So, what if there was also something hidden in the note? Something waiting to be revealed by a touch of magic? I mean, who went to all the trouble of binding an entity, and then didn’t bother leaving instructions regarding how to take care of it? Step one: don’t sell the silk or let it fall into some stranger’s hands who happens to have blood magic and scissors.

I just had to be patient a little longer. I did believe that Ethan would send the notes to me as quickly as possible. He’d sounded scared spitless on the phone, and apparently knew enough about witches and their ability to hold grudges well enough to know that his reaction was appropriate.

With a little bit of luck, I’d actually have some answers soon.