If a potential client asks me to meet them at some random, outside location, then I know there’s an issue. Either they want to keep this under the table, which was the usual, or something had seriously gone wrong and they wanted to keep their distance from the point of impact.

I wonder which category the Boston Museum’s Director fell into?

Being a bright, sunny day, the sky was that perfect shade of sky blue that absolutely killed my eyes. I kept my tinted glasses firmly on, trying to avoid looking up at any angle. It was better I had the glasses on anyway, my eyes were strange to look at, and often unnerved people on first meeting. It also inevitably led to questions I didn’t want to answer like why a visually impaired woman could do the job in the first place.

Hopefully if the director was looking for me, he knew my reputation, and wouldn’t ask the silly questions.

Hopefully.

Flo was with me, as always, seated comfortably at the little table. The café he’d chosen had outdoor seating and we chose to enjoy the good weather by being outside. I could hear the sounds of people playing in the park not far from us. It was only across the street, after all. We were here to drink tea and discuss the project. Or so the note said.

“Want to place a bet?” I asked my friend and companion. “Are we meeting here because it’s that bad? Or because he’s trying to be discreet?”

“Director of the Boston Museum…” Flo murmured in her throaty alto. “I’ll bet on discreet.”

“I’ll bet disaster, then. Usual bet?”

“Usual bet.” Flo paused and regarded me. “Arwen, are you sure you want to pick up another job right after we finished one? We’ve barely been in Boston two days. I thought you wanted to be on a mini-vacation for a few days.”

I shrugged. “If the man has an emergency on his hands, there’s no helping that. I grant you, the last case was a little rough on all of us. I’d prefer to stop and rest. If he’s that desperate for help, though, I don’t see how we can justify it.”

“Mm, true. I just don’t want us to overdo it like last year.”

I shuddered at the memory. “Heavens above, let’s absolutely avoid doing that.”

Last year had been back to back cases, some of them overlapping, and in retrospect I honestly don’t know how we managed. My little team was dragging by the end of the year and we were so glad to see winter hit that we almost cried tears of joy. We all went home and slept for a good month. I’d promised I’d be more choosy on our projects from then on and not just take whatever came my direction. It had been something of a learning curve. It was only the third year I’d been in business, after all, I was still both gaining a reputation and learning how to pace myself.

All of that said, I did lean towards taking on jobs more often than not. It was a matter of prudence, really. I had a very unique skillset and it wasn’t like there were many people that did my career. If I turned down the job, the person with the problem didn’t have much, if any, other recourse.

“Ah.” Flo’s head turned, tracking someone coming towards us along the busy sidewalk. “I would bet that’s him. Harried looking man, middle-aged, wrinkled brown suit that looks like the world is ending.”

“Probably him,” I agreed calmly, turning to also look. I appreciated her description, as always. I could see general shapes, light and dark, but colors were hit and miss. Finer details were beyond me entirely. Flo could pick up cues I could not and she was accustomed to describing things to me just to make sure I hadn’t missed something.

He stopped at our table, and whatever description he had of me, it wasn’t a good one. He looked to Flo first. “Ms. Arnoult?”

“No, I’m Florence McGrath,” she corrected, gesturing toward me. “This is Arwen Arnoult.”

“Oh. Oh dear me, I’m sorry.”

It was an honest mistake that many made. Flo used to be my private tutor, back in my childhood, and became my companion as I entered adulthood. She had twenty years on me and looked like the responsible, professional type person that one would contact. I was young enough that people didn’t think of me as the expert they needed. Not at first glance.

I knew, too, that I didn’t look like a formidable person. I was tall, but slender, my curly dark hair refused to be tamed by any hair oil, and of course I was a woman. Most people made the assumption that I couldn’t handle whatever problem it was they entertained.
At least, not until they saw me at work. Then their opinions abruptly reversed.

This man, though, after that second of hesitation, got over his mistake very quickly. In jerky, agitated motions he pulled a chair away from the table. “My colleague that referred you barely gave me a name and an idea of which hotel you were staying at. I didn’t think to ask for a description of you. I hope you’re not offended.”

I gave him a smile to put him at ease. “Not at all. I assume you’re Director Downes?”

“Yes, quite so, sorry.” He sat abruptly in the chair opposite of mine, yanking out a handkerchief to wipe at his temples. The man was rattled enough to make coffee nervous. I couldn’t distinguish all of his features, of course, the finer lines of his wrinkles and such were beyond me, but I had the general impression of a bulldog face and build only a mother would love.

I had a feeling I was going to win that bet with Flo. “Director, do take your time. Just start at the beginning. Do you know what’s the cause of the problem?”

“It can only be one thing,” he said, looking around nervously as if he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

At this hour of the afternoon, people were very much on their own business. Boston’s population was like any other large city in my experience. They minded themselves, with little curiosity for what other people were doing. The rattling of carriages and the few automobiles on the road served as sufficient enough noise coverage as long as the director didn’t start shouting.

I encouraged him with a wave. “Please, speak comfortably. No one’s paying any attention to us. Should I order you some tea?”

“No, thank you, I couldn’t possibly get anything down right now.” He grasped his hands on the table, clenching them hard enough to break bones. Sucking in a loud, noisy breath, he found words and spoke. “Ms. Arnoult. I understand you are both discreet and an expert in the…unusual.”

“I am, yes.” Expert might be pushing it, really. I always figured it out in the end, though.

“This is highly unusual. I’ve never heard of or seen the like and I’ve been in archaeology for nigh on three decades. Roughly one week ago, we acquired a perfectly preserved specimen, a mummy in full religious clothing. It was quite an exciting acquisition at the time, an almost perfect example of Incan religious garb. We immediately brought it in and carefully started to clean and sort the pieces, cataloguing them, you understand.”

I nodded, showing I followed along. It was standard practice from what I knew of museum workings.

“It’s when we removed the mask that things took a turn for the worse. At first, I wasn’t sure what was wrong with my employees. People kept trying to put the mask on, like we were at some sort of carnival. I had to supervise them myself when the mask was out of its box.”
Now there was a disturbing mental image. “What happens if the mask is put on fully?”

“I had no intention of finding out. I made sure that didn’t happen.”

“Wise of you,” Flo murmured. “It can’t be just that?”

“No, I wish that was the only complaint I had. I could put that down to mischief. No, things abruptly became strange yesterday. The stones…the very stones of the building started moving. Spinning in place!”

I blinked at him, sure I wasn’t understanding this right. “Wait. The stones started spinning? Like—” I reached for the spoon my saucer and spun it on the flat of my palm in illustration. “Like that?”

“Precisely like that! Just in the room where the mask was held, fortunately. I shudder to think of what would happen if the entire building suffered from this. The integrity of the building in that corner is already in question. I—” he mopped at his forehead again, voice strangled and going up an octave. “I have no idea what to do about this. I’d have already thrown the thing into the sea, really, but I fear what that might do to me. I haven’t directly touched it.”

“Nor should you,” I said firmly. “That was wise of you.”

“Miss Arnoult, have you seen anything like this before?”

“Spinning stones is a new one, I must admit. Still, not the most dangerous thing I’ve encountered.” Definitely the oddest, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

I thought of the repercussions of leaving the mask in place. Really, it wasn’t something I felt comfortable ignoring, or passing along to someone else. The situation had already escalated that it now endangered multiple people and a building. Left alone much longer, it could only get worse from here. Even the delay of contacting someone else to try and deal with it might be the museum’s undoing.
I was inclined to take it on, even though I had no sure approach to it. If nothing else, I wanted to see what this was.

Without thinking too deeply about this, I gave him a smile. “Director, I’m inclined to help you. Let’s discuss price and particulars first. If we can agree to terms, then I’ll go directly to the museum and start immediately.”

He shuddered with visible relief. “My dear Ms. Arnoult, I’m relieved to hear that you think you can still do something about this. What is your price?”

I went with the higher end, as I had a notion it would take many consultations with other experts and a lot of travel to sort this problem out. “Two thousand dollars, upfront fee. You cover all travel expenses.”

He winced at the price. It did seem obscene at first glance.

I gave a slight shrug of my shoulders, both hands splayed. “I have a team of four people that help me with these things and it covers consultation fees with experts. You won’t receive a follow-up bill from me once travel expenses are reimbursed.”

“Oh,” he said in a small voice. Then his shoulders firmed, head coming up. “Two thousand, then. I want this thing out of my museum. What other terms?”

“I need all of the paperwork that came with this artifact. Any provenance, receipts, all information. If I’m to deal with it, I must know as much as I can. I’d also like to interview anyone that handled it directly to see what effects are on them. If I can aid them, I will.”

He looked a little strained around the edges for some reason, hands back to gripping themselves, his body language shrinking back in. Still, he agreed. “Everything I know, I’ll tell you. Please, let’s hurry to the museum. I shudder to think of what’s happened in my absence. I’ll write you a check before you leave with the mask.”

“Then let’s go,” I encouraged him.

He was up from the table with alacrity, already promising, “I’ll hail a taxi for us.”

I let him go, taking a moment longer to finish off the last of my tea before rising as well. I straightened out my skirts as I moved from the table, adjusting my purse to hang off my left shoulder.

Flo leaned in to murmur to me, “Spinning stones? How can we possibly safely travel with a mask that makes stones move?”

“That is my question, too. I’ve got everything on me necessary for a quick seal, I’ll start with that. I really can’t make promises until I lay eyes on this thing. Why would an Incan religious mask have that effect? It makes no sense, that’s not what their religious practices encompassed. I don’t think.”

“Not from what I know of them,” she agreed, sounding troubled.

What I knew, Flo basically knew. She was the one that read everything to me, after all. Really, just speaking of the mask wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know in order to plan ahead. The Director might be able to tell me the origin of the mask, but he was in no way equipped to read the magical or spiritual energy of it. I could see it perfectly, of course, which was why I needed to lay eyes on it and then ask more questions later.

The Director was quick to catch a taxi, and we loaded in with all due speed, him in the front seat with the driver. The carriage wheels were a loud clatter on the streets that I paid little attention to. I did a mental inventory of what was in my bag, trying to think of a few strategies ahead of time so I wasn’t fumbling on site. I had multiple strips of talisman paper, ink and brush set, red string, mild glue, and a small roll of canvas. There were several possible seals I could try although how compatible Buddhist seals were with Incan spiritual magic was anyone’s guess. Any two religions’ spiritual magic did not usually mix well. To say the least.

All I could do at this point was hope for the best.
​
I wasn’t taking that mask out of the building unless I could seal it, though. That, I stood firm on.