The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious #2)(33)

“I’ll make sure Uncle Victor is aware of that,” Slater said.

At least she could count on turning a profit today, Gwendolyn thought. Catalina Lark was right—Victor Arganbright always paid his tab.

She moved out from behind the desk. “We’ll talk downstairs.”

She led the way through the cluttered back room and opened the stairwell door. At the top of the stairs she flipped a light switch to illuminate the steps. She descended first.

When she reached the bottom, she turned to watch Catalina and Slater come down the stairs.

“Welcome to the real sales floor,” she said.





CHAPTER 14


Shivery frissons of awareness danced across Catalina’s senses as she went down the stairs into the dimly lit basement. The atmosphere in the room below Gwendolyn Swan’s shop reminded her of the interior of the Fogg Lake caves. The tendrils of energy emanating from the individual artifacts combined into a breathtaking wave of paranormal heat. It was disorienting.

She looked around, amazed. “This place is really hot.”

“Gather enough objects with a strong vibe in one room and even people with normal senses can pick up some of the energy,” Gwendolyn said.

Intrigued, Catalina walked to the nearest case and studied the miniature scene inside. The setting was a glamorous masked ball. The room was draped in crimson velvet. A miniature chandelier was suspended from the ceiling. In one corner a trio of musicians held dainty instruments. Figures dressed in elegant costumes and masks crowded the floor.

Initially it was the exquisite workmanship of the ballroom tableau that fascinated Catalina. But when she got close to the case, her senses started to flash and flicker in reaction to the scene. The sensations were both ominous and compelling.

“What in the world?” she whispered.

The impulse to touch the glass case was irresistible. She reached out one hand.

“Careful,” Slater said. “Some of these objects are unpredictable.”

But it was too late. Catalina’s fingers had already made contact with the glass. The strains of an eerie waltz emanated from the corner where the musicians played their tiny instruments. The figures on the dance floor began to move.

Gwendolyn chuckled. “The Masked Ball is similar to an old-fashioned music box, except that instead of having to wind it up, you just touch the glass. It conducts the energy of a person’s aura and activates the mechanism. Interestingly, most of my clients can’t get it going, even those with a lot of heat in their auras. It only responds to certain wavelengths. That’s why I haven’t been able to sell it. Congratulations, Catalina. Looks like you have the magic touch. I can give you an excellent price on it.”

“No, thanks,” Catalina said.

The miniature ballroom scene was fascinating, but as she watched the dancers whirl faster and faster around the floor, she was aware of a growing sensation of dread. It was as if the figures in their elegant costumes were somehow compelled to keep up with the strains of the eerie waltz.

She tried to take her fingers off the glass and step back. She discovered that she could not move. She watched in gathering horror as the crimson drapes parted, revealing a miniature figure dressed in a long black cloak and a bloodred mask. He gripped a small gold cane in one gloved hand.

“Catalina?” Slater said sharply. “Are you all right?”

The master of the ball began to raise the gold cane. The music sent more unpleasant shivers across Catalina’s senses.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered. “Stop, damn it.”

A rush of fear-driven energy gave her the willpower she needed to overcome the pull of the miniature ballroom. With a small yelp she yanked her fingers off the glass and scrambled to take a couple of steps back.

For the second time that day she collided with Slater. Her senses were hot and, she belatedly discovered, so were his. There was an electric moment of contact, and then Slater gripped her arms and set her firmly to one side.

“What the hell?” he asked. He spoke very softly, as though curious and intrigued but not alarmed.

He released her and went toward the glass case. Catalina pulled herself together and saw that the miniature scene had gone still. None of the figures moved. The unpleasant music had ceased. The figure in the black cloak had disappeared behind the velvet drapes.

“Well, that was certainly interesting,” Gwendolyn said. She joined Slater at the display case. Together they examined the tableau. “I’ve never had a client who could do anything more than activate a few of the dancers.”

“Where did you get this piece?” Slater asked.

Gwendolyn sighed. “The usual source—the estate of a dead collector. As I told you, I haven’t been able to sell it. Those who lack whatever the vibe is that activates it aren’t interested in it. Those who can activate a few of the figures have the same reaction Catalina did just now. No one wants it in their collection.”

Catalina shuddered. “I think I know why. There’s something very disturbing about that miniature scene.”

“Evidently,” Gwendolyn said.

“What happens when the figure in the black cloak raises the gold cane?” Catalina asked.

“I have no idea,” Gwendolyn said.

“I’m no expert on paranormal antiques,” Catalina said, “but for what it’s worth, I think that thing may be dangerous.”