We pull up in front of the wrought iron gates, with the decorative B in the center. A small intercom box rests beside the car, and in the distance the two-story, cream-colored home with dark blue railings is stunning. A blend of traditional with modern touches, it’s refined like its inhabitants. I lean out of the car to press the intercom, and it crackles to life.
“Ms. Esçhete, we’ve been expecting you. We’ll open up at the gates, and someone will be there to meet you out front.” There’s something unsettling about knowing we were being watched. The gates slowly open, and I ignore the crawling of my skin as we pass through a protective barrier.
“They’re hardcore, huh?” Fel whispers
“They are sitting on a lot of history and powerful items. I can’t blame them for beefing up the security. Doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable to travel through, though.” I shudder. It’s like running into a spiderweb over and over. I park beside the other cars, and we step out only to be greeted by Sykes. My jaw drops when I take in the broad-chested, muscular man with a smart side part hairstyle, and a well-groomed beard and mustache combination. His pale green eyes sparkle with mirth. This is not the lanky boy I remember.
“Lou. It looks like we both grew up.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
“I heard you were back. It’s nice to see you.”
“You too, Sykes.”
“Felicite, always a pleasure.”
“Hey, Sykes.”
I narrow my gaze. She knew what a shock this would be. Sykes offers his arms. “May I escort you two to the drawing room for tea? We can discuss the sensitive matter with my parents then.” I take his arm, and allow him to guide us into the home. Opulence doesn’t do this place justice. It’s grand, charming even with its ornate carved wood structures, vintage furniture, and fine rugs. The house smells like lemon balm and lavender. It’s a comforting and grounding scent.
He steers us through two large sliding wood doors that have been pushed back to reveal a cozy room with dark green settees from the eighteen-hundreds. The glossy wood stands out along the curve of the couch. It’s too pretty to sit on. With his black three-piece suit with a silk napkin folded into a triangle, and her maroon lace A-line dress with buttons down the center, Mr. and Mrs. Blanchard appear to be right at home. Over the years, his blond hair has lost pigment, and her chestnut hair has gained streaks of gray.
A hotel-worthy High Tea is set up on the table between us. Three tiered trays are full of cups teeming with fresh fruit, ladyfingers, cookies, and tiny cakes that are too pretty to eat.
“Mother, Felicitie and Louella Esçhete.”
They stand, offering their hands. “Merry met. We are pleased to have you here helping us peaceably solve this conundrum.”
“It’s our pleasure,” I say as we shake hands.
“Please sit. Sykes, thank you so much for showing our guests in. We can all discuss this while we eat.”
The pedestal teacup with tiny pink roses and green leaves and matching saucers is a work of art. I handle it carefully. Once we’re settled in, Mr. Blanchard guides the conversation. I place one of the linen napkins on my lap and marvel at the oddness that is my life as we make small talk. An hour later, we’re all more relaxed.
“If I may ask, what’s the item?”
“Sykes, if you could be a dear and bring it in.”
“Yes, Mother.” He rises, and I marvel again at how well he grew up.
“It’s an old scrying set we’ve had so long we can’t remember when we required it.”
Sykes returns with a weathered brown leather pouch. He places the smooth leather in my palm. A jolt streaks through me. I blink rapidly, stunned by the punch it packs.
“You can feel it, can’t you?” Mr. Blanchard asks. Excitement dances in his icy blue gaze.
“I do.”
“There’s an index of all our magical items in the library along with accounts of how they came to be with us. It’ll take some digging. Our lists are thorough and updated. It’s the sheer amount of inventory that makes the task so arduous.”
“I hate to ask the obvious, but why not cast a spell to figure this out?” Fel asks.
“Magic can’t be used in the library or the vaults. We do everything possible to maintain the integrity of the items and spells. Only the very basic magic will work with the spells originally cast on the area.”
“And there are no files on the computer?” I say.
“No, we prefer the old-fashioned method. There are too many attacks that occur these days thanks to computers.”