A Chalice, A Coin, A Staff, and A Sword

Collinsport. The dark shadows of Lilith, which have been lifted from The Line of Harkers, still leave their lingering traces. For Medri Harker the growing recognition of what he had done; the terrible loss of his grandmother; the destruction of the Harker law firm. For Nicole Collins, having recovered from the vicious wounds inflicted upon her by the vengeful Lilith, which had nearly left her “truly dead,” she secretly retains the memory of the evil and the darkness she viewed of the abyss seeing into the soul of her attacker. In her dreams now – as she slumbers until the setting of the sun – she has begun to have visions from just Beyond the Wall of Sleep. Odd quotes from the dark tomes of her father’s library seem to haunt her. Are they fragments of memory – or has she found her way into Dreamlands. Are these clues or merely omens? And now, even more troubling, a strange doctor has arrived from London with information that calls into question everything Nicole Collins has ever through she had thought she had known about herself and her parents. Back from Scarlet Creek and the funeral of the great matriarch, Gwendolyn Harker, she finds she had brought even more questions that need to be answered. For in Scarlet Creek she has met a troubled young woman whom she has brought home to Collinsport – a young woman Nicole feels may be of some importance in the future if only she can untangle the circumstances of her past.

There’s a cobweb, grey and fuzzy, dangling. It’s almost alive. Slowly moving, swaying in a draft somewhere along the ceiling. Nikki lies now with the coffin lid open staring up at the cobweb. It’s grown. Each time she awakens here it is the first thing she sees. Here within these comforting confines, she takes a moment to watch as it seems so effortlessly to sway. Oh, what a tangled wed—it reminds her, as much as lying here, of this world to which she awakens. Their world. A world of dust and death and decomposition. They grow old. They die. They decay. They are not like her. For as she awakens she knows see has never truly seen her world. A world of perverse thoughts and desires, a world she must not enter. Each day’s resurrection a temptation, one she has to constantly remind herself she can not give into its seduction. A world of darkness, the promise of immortality, and a incredible will to power. And yet, for a moment, lying there, she can not help but wonder what it would be like to just rise up and follow her instincts . . . to give in to the perverse power and all its delicious temptations . . . yes, to rise up and to be in their world and not try to be a part of it.

She climbs out of her coffin – her box. Her fingers combing through the back of her hair to fluff away the “coffin head,” as she prepares once more to enter into their world. Inside her coffin now she reaches for a tarnished brush and, tilting her head to either side, runs it through her hair. The handle of an old antique hand-mirror is just visible as it lies on the satin lining. Nikki returning the brush now takes up the mirror. She is so thankful for Elizabeth’s – her mother’s – instruction: thinking now of how Elizabeth had stood there, watching her, so like a mother – watching as her daughter learns to put her make-up on . . . as she instructed her on how to focus. How to concentrate so as to turn the blurry shadow in the glass to a reflection, faded but recognizable. From the make-up clutch (also inside her coffin) she makes a quick adjustment. How she used to dread trying to do this by touch alone, from memory . . .

She closed the make-up clutch with a snap and put it and the mirror back inside the coffin. She didn’t want to think about that now.

Alone, almost spectrally, she strides down the second floor landing. her hand lightly running along the railing as she looks down into the lobby of the main office of Collins Investigations. Out until late, early in the morning, she had decided to stay over in the coffin she kept at the office. When she had arrived the offices had been deserted, but now, below she sees a young woman curled up in one of the office chairs. Apparently, sometime during the night, she had picked the lock.

Nikki silently descends the narrow stairs and crosses the lobby to stand watching the young woman sleep. Odd, there is something attractive about her wearing an eye-patch – if she were cleaned up, she could be beautiful. It would be so easy, a silent step, bending over her – the smooth and inviting throat. A warm and bloody kiss. Perverse thoughts my dear . . . she tells herself.

She wonders when or if the young woman has eaten.

With a slow graceful hand she reaches out and lightly touches Sam’s shoulder, “Sam, good evening.” Her voice with its British accent almost a musical chime.

Samantha Brook turns over in her sleep reacting to such a soft, lovely voice. Slowly, blinking awake, she looks around confused.

Nikki steps over and all too seductively takes a seat in the opposite chair.

Samantha finds herself fascinated by her.

Nikki smiles, her teeth small pearls – the hint of the sharpness of her fangs. “Have you eaten anything today?”

Samantha opens her mouth to speak and then closes it as if changing her mind, waits a moment, and starts again. “I ate just fine – today.” She returns the smile—although Nikki detects it is a false smile, with is interrupted by the betrayal of her stomach.

“Please check the refrigerator, I am certain Esther has something in there to eat.”

But before Samantha can respond, the office door opens suddenly and Rhyaad de’Annar enters. He looks at them and gives them that little bow of his head, “Nikki, Sam. And how are you tonight?”

Nikki saunters over to the light switch and turns on the office lights. “I am doing fine, and yourself?”

“Doing well –” He asks walking over to Esther’s desk chair and pulls it back to take a seat. “So, did you find a place to stay last night Sam?”

Sam tosses her hair in preparation to answer only is interrupted by a knock on the door.

She turns at the sound to look at the door— surprised to see that neither Nikki nor Rhyaad seem at all to be in any great hurry to answer the knock. Instead they both have turned to look at each other.

Now from her days at Blackjack Investigations, when someone was at the door, you got to them in as fast as possible—before they could change their minds . . . whereas here it was as if they had to make up their minds whether they would even open the door.

A male voice outside door, well aware of the office lights having just been tuned on asks, “Hello there? Is there anyone in?”

Samantha gets up since no one else seems to be in any hurry to open the door.

She finds old man standing at the door. Bald, with a white pharaoh like beard, he seemed a bit odd, Sam thought, even for some eccentric New Englander as he wore a long, black, almost Edwardian coat and vest over a white shirt with a very high and stiff collar. But what was most unusual was his eyes, yellow and red. Which had to be a trick of the light Samantha thought. “Who’re you?” She asks.

“A potential customer, my dear.” Replies the strange looking old man.

Samantha noticing now a rather large briefcase sitting on the sidewalk beside him, watched as he picked it up – must be heavy from the exertion he makes in carrying it as he just steps in through the threshold, almost brushing past her.

“Yeah, just come on in.”

And she steps aside to allow him to enter, she happens to see a woman in a long overcoat and a warm, fuzzy cap walking down the street toward the office. Not much foot traffic along the main square of Collinsport at this hour . . . what times was it anyway she thought and closed the door.

As the old man enters and looks the office over, Samantha is bit startled as the door opens again and Esther walks into the office. Esther stops for a moment, looking first at the young woman with the eye-patch, Rhyaad, and then the old man, whom she had seen entering the office, before looking over to Nikki. She takes off her coat and hat and hangs it on the coat rack.

“Esther, good evening. ‘ Nikki says, “And so, how was your trip?

“It was fine. I’d rather not talk about it.” Esther says frowning as she looks at Rhyaad sitting in her chair. “Rhyaad. Out.” She points her finger away from the chair.

Nikki aware that something must have happened on the trip does not press the matter – if Esther wanted to talk about it she would find the time.

“What? Me?” He looked offended. “I can’t sit in your chair once in a while? It’s not like I was going to drink your beer.”

With a look of mock sadness he reluctantly got up and let Esther have her chair.

Esther walking around her desk glances at the very strange looking old man, who had taken from his vest pocket and old gold coin, and now stood repeatedly flipping it. She then directed her gaze at the young unkempt woman as she pulled back her chair and took a seat, “Thank you.”

Now Samantha’s ears almost twitch at the word beer as she involuntarily cuts a glance at the refrigerator – where Nikki had already told her she should check for food. A beer would be just as good.

Esther starts shuffling papers. She looks up at the woman with a scar and what appears to be blood dripping down her face. “Yeah. Can I help ya?”

“Esther, this is Sam Brooks.” Nikki says now stepping over beside Esther, “We met her at Gwen Harker’s funeral. It seems she used to work for a private investigative agency in Detroit. Blackjack Investigations, but they seem to have folded and so she has returned to New York.”

Esther takes out a cigarette and keeps a steady gaze on the young woman.

Samantha points to Nikki, “I was talking with her . . . so no – I don’t think so.”

Rhyaad nods. “And she could use a job.”

Esther lights her cigarette and with smoke escaping as she speaks says– “Brooks, eh?”

“Brook.” Samantha corrects her quietly.

“She also needs a place to stay, so I thought she would use the second floor storage room – of course there are a ‘few’ items I need to move out.” Nikki explains.

“Oh certainly. Hell. We might as well turn it into anouther office.” Esther remarks as she begins to examine her desk to make certain everything is as she left it, what with others sitting behind it.

“Oh, I am sorry, Brook.” Nikki apologizes for getting Samantha’s name incorrectly, and then gives Esther a look that says ‘let’s not openly discuss the coffin up there’.

To which Esther gives a look back as if to respond, ‘like I would?’

“Of course there would need to be some adjustments . . .” Rhyaad says moving over now to another chair and looking at Sam, “Like taking showers the normal way . . . and not raising new life forms in refrigerators.”

Samantha looks at him sarcastically. “I do shower normally. I even leave the rain money after the shower – or at least something as payment.”

Esther takes a long drag off her cigarette, squinting one eye against the rising curl of smoke, “Well . . . . it’s yer call Nik. Your th’ boss.”

“I mean in a bathroom. With a shower. Indoor plumbing. They have had it for quite a while.”

“But that’s were the yellow smell comes from.”

“Yellow smell?” He peers at her. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

The old man with the flipping coin watches them trying to determine if their ignoring him is intentional.

Esther frowns and looks across the desk, putting the pile of papers to one side, “Seeing smells are we? Do I need to do a background check?”

“I go to clean and yellow clouds attack me—bathrooms dun’t like me.” Samantha tried to explain.

“Well,” Nikki says looking at Esther, seeing in Esther’s look of disapproval that Samantha was not making a very favorable first impression. “Maybe we should see how things work out.” Particularly since Nikki had no idea at all what Samantha Brook was talking about – yellow clouds?

“Yellow clouds attack you?” Rhyaad now articulated everyone’s incredulousness.

Esther is more direct as she stubs out the cigarette, “Look Miss. I dun’ take kindly to druggies. If you’re stoned, then get out right now.”

Only Samantha is not about to back down from her tale of clouds, yellow or otherwise . . . “Yes yellow clouds. I use ammonia and beach and clouds come up attacking me.

“Could you describe these yellow clouds,” Rhyaad waves his hand in the air.

“Is this something unique to Detroit?” Nikki asks, seeing as how she was from England, and she knew from various reports that the United States had areas known for their distinctiveness– perhaps, there was something about the water in Detroit.

“Hrm . . . sounds like a chemical reaction.” Rhyaad trying for Samantha’s sake to make light of the story.

For which, Samantha gives him a half crazed grin, which he can’t tell is intentionally comical, or a sign of instability.

“Well then, use lye soap like the rest of us, and that should not be th’ problem.” Esther tells her and then renews her search through the piles of papers on her desk.

Samantha now turns her attention to Esther, seeing the still smoldering stub of her cigarette in the ashtray, “You don’t like drugs? Why are you smokin’ then? At least all my medicine has a prescription.”

Esther stops shuffling papers and gives her a look, “Illegal drugs, Miss Brook.”

Rhyaad sighs beginning now to wonder if this idea of Nikki and his is going to work out – if Sam is going to work out. “I don’t suppose you could teach this woman how to do things like, take a shower, and use indoor plumbing, could you?”

Samantha removes from a jacket pocket a pill bottle and holds it up, “You can see right there, my name clearly printed on the bottle.”

Esther shakes her head and takes up the application form she had been searching for – since they have not had a need for one. She clicks her pen and then skips halfway down the paper, “Okay then – pre-existing medical conditions please . . .”

“Boy…. I bet that’s a list.” Rhyaad mutters under his breath.

Samantha cocks her head to one side, “I forget, but the pill bottle says it has Clozapine.”

“Well, if you two can handle Miss Brook’s intake form – I want to call Chief St. Clair. Nikki interrupts and then turns to stride over toward her office.

The old man flipping his coin now beginning to wonder if perhaps he had made an unwise decision – although he knew this group of individuals were certainly unorthodox in their methods – or so he had heard.

“I suppose so, Nikki.” Rhyaad tells her, uncertain how Esther and Sam are going to interact together, something he had to admit he had been concerned about from the very beginning, “I’ll keep an eye out here.”

“I also have a ferret,’ Samantha suddenly grins.

Rhyaad gives her a very skeptical look, “Are you sure it’s a ferret, Miss Brook?”

Esther looks up from the form, “Right. I dunno what Clozapine cures, so I’ll look it up later . . . Ya know, I think we’re the only business not to have a computer. At all.”

Now as if it was aware it was being discussed, a ferret pokes its head out of Samantha’s jacket with a light hissing noise.

“I don’t do well with computers, Esther.” Rhyaad smiles, “I hire a cute assistant for that.”

“Probably sleep with her too,” Samantha mutters.

Esther looks at her and then jots down some notes: “Okay, full name, date of birth, residence.”

Rhyaad for some reason, seeing the ferret looks relieved. “Ah, it is a ferret. Good.” He had been afraid it would really be a rat.

“Him”, he grinned.

“Him what?” Samantha asks.

“My cute assistant”

“NAME!” Esther asks trying to get back to the job at hand – at least to her hand.

“Samantha Tovia” Samantha shudders horribly at having to say that name, “Brook.”

Nikki having leisurely walks into her office and closes the door. She pulls back her chair from the old, heavy, dark wood desk and picks up her phone.

“Yes, Chief St. Clair, please.” She says into the mouthpiece of an old black antique land-line.

Esther writes down her name.

“Yes, I can wait, thank you.” Nikki says.

Samantha seems to be thinking, “I’m . . . ” she stops in mid-sentence and thinks some more, then begins to count on her fingers.

“When is your birthday Miss Brook?” Esther sighs.

“25!” Samantha says suddenly, “I’m 25 . . . going on 26–I think . . . .”

Nikki tilts her head to cradle the phone receiver on her shoulder as she leans to open the lower desk drawer. She reaches over to the file cabinet and takes out a fresh bottle and opens it to pour the thick, dark red liquid into the decanter. She takes a deep breath at the scent.

“26 on which day?” Esther asks.

Samantha shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“By the way, Miss Brook” Rhyadd interrupts. “I am Rhyaad. Not ‘Mister Death’. Rhyaad de’Annar That’s my real name, even.”

“Yes, I am still waiting.” Nikki replies.

Samantha Brook smiles at him and nods, “Okies Mr. Death.”

Nikki re-corks the bottle and puts it in the file cabinet.

Esther, looks up from her form at Sam, then looks at Rhyadd; and then looks back down.

Nikki removes a crystal flute from the bottom drawer and pours a glass of the liquid.

“Rhyaad!” He corrected loudly.

Samantha looks as if something painful is happening inside her head “I-I lost track of my birthdays . . . so I could be 26”

On the other end of the phone line Jamison St. Clair picks up, “Chief St. Clair, how can I help you.”

“Sorry Mr. Death . . . ” Samantha says, “Reeyahdi,” trying to pronounce it.

“Chief, this is Nikki Collins.”

Esther ignores them, “Okay –Miss Brook. Your place of residence please.”

“Oh, Miss Collins, I have been expecting your call.” The new Chief of Police replies.

“Oh – really?” Nikki asks and takes a sip of blood.

“Rye-aaad . . . it’s not that hard.” He exasperatedly informs Samantha.

“You’re calling about Finch right?” St. Clair surmises.

Samantha looks down and mumbles for several minutes before three words make themselves at all clear – “Don’t have one.”

Homeless: Esther writes.

Samantha’s stomach growls slightly.

Esther takes a moment, begins to look through her papers, “Just a sec.”

Nikki hears the sound of a hand placed over the mouth piece of the phone in order to muffle the sound as St. Clair can still be heard to say, “You . . . . you little S**T I told you to sit your ass down and so do it – you don’t want me sitting it down for you.”

“Well I suppose you could use this address as I think Miss Brook will be staying in the storeroom. After we take Nikki’s um… things…. out.” Rhyaad said helpfully.

“Humm . . . well, If there’s a box in a dry alley somewhere . . . That would be okay.” Samantha tells them trying to show Esther she does not want to impose.

“Sorry about that Miss Collins,” Chief St. Clair apologizes, “As I was saying I assumed you’re calling about Ian Finch.”

“Very astute of you Chief, yes, I was.

“Excuse me,” The old man with the red eyes now interjects having remained quite for far too long listening to the this incessant banter about filling our some intake form – did they not have computer systems for this!

“Well I don’t have the official ME’s report as yet, I’ve just gotten them to find a better Medical Examiner” St. Clair informed Nikki, “I will tell you . . . I have seen some slipshod backwater burgs, but the place takes the cake.”

The old man looked unsure of whether he really wanted remain, or if he should pick up his briefcase and go, based on what he’s heard . . ..

Rhyaad now turns his attention to the old man, as if suddenly remembering him.

The old man in the Edwardian coat clears his throat – “If you have a moment.”

And now he has decided to take an entirely different approach as he walks over to Esther’s desk. Esther stops taking information on Miss Brook’s intake form and looks up at him with a look that says – you wait your turn.

The strange old man response is to put the briefcase down on the desk, turn it to face Esther, and then snaps it open to reveal that it contains what appears to gold bars.

Rhyaad and Samantha lean forward to look into the briefcase.

“That is yours, if you can find something for me.”

Rhyaad stands in order to get a better look inside the case, but the old man quite suddenly snaps it shut – apparently having made his point and gotten their attention.

Only Esther, looking at the briefcase, then up at the man, is unimpressed, ” I can shove it up yer ass if ya sir if ya don’t wait yer turn. Now have a seat and wait. We will call you.”

Rhyaad raised his eyebrow – that was a case of gold. “Ah—Tell him we’ll find it, Esther, whatever it is.”

Esther looks at him with a frown, and grabs her cigarette pack, jabbing a finger inside to fish out a cigarette; and lights up. Doesn’t anybody around here follow instructions?

The old man smiles at Rhyaad and turns his attention upon him, “There’s a good lad.”

Samantha mutters aloud, “Probably wants you to find a book . . . that when you do he won’t come and pick up from you guys once you get it for him.” She directs that remark to Rhyaad, who tries to ignore it.

“Indeed not.” The old man replies as he turns to look at Miss Brook, “The items in question are considerably older and far more valuable.”

“That’s the past, Miss Brook, a’right?” Rhyaad tells her, not wanting to get into the whole situation with about his past dealings with Miss Brook.

“Rhyaad, will you talk to th’coot. I’m in an interview and I swear, if I have ONE more interruption . . .” Esther’s pique rising.

She picks up the form and then putting it back down . . . returns her gaze to the unkempt young woman, “Now – What skills can you offer the business?”

Samantha thinks for a moment, “Ummmm . . . what skills are needed?”

Rhyaad motions toward the second office, and the old man, carrying his heay briefcase walks toward it. Rhyaad looks back at Esther and Samantha and hopes for the best. Inside the office Rhyaad takes a chair behind the desk and watches as the old man has a seat – the briefcase never too far from his grasp.

“The name is Kang. Ures Kang.” The old man informs him as he grips the ends of his vest and tugs them down to flatten the material across his chest.

Esther waves her pen, “Investigative. Criminal justice. I assume you have a range of skills and experience from your former job. Can you tell me about what you did?”

“Now what is it that you want us to find that is worth more than your gold?” Rhyadd settles back to listen to he man’s story.

Samantha leans on the arm of her chair, “Ummm . . .” thinking, “I kept things clean. . . ”

“Simple items, of great age and fragility.” Kang informs him.

“I managed the desk . . . “ Samantha says, and then suddenly remembers, “Oh I found a missing person. . . .”

Esther writes: Janitorial. Clerical.

“Did you find the person on purpose?” Esther looks up inquisitively.

“Are you aware that Natasha Snow is missing.” Nikki asks St. Clair.

Samantha nods, “Sort of . . . ”

Kang his face impassive looks at Rhyaad, “A chalice, a staff, a coin, and a sword.”

“Define sort of,” Esther gives Samantha a chance to explain.

“Simple?” Rhyaad responds, having heard the old man’s description, “If so simple why hire us? And how great of an age are these artifacts?”

“Well, the person missing wasn’t missing . . . really.”

Kang evades the question, “Collectively they are known as the Arcana. ”

“The Arcana of what?”

“You see, the person who filed her missing, insisted it was some one else in the same body . . .”

“Yes,” St. Clair says, “Seems her Aunt, a Lillian Snow, came in and wanted to file a Missing Persons on her. Of course she hadn’t been missing long enough for us to begin an active investigation. This Natasha, wasn’t she a client of yours?”

Esther looks at her, “uh-huh . . . .” Thinking of the Vera Endecott case.

“They were found years ago on Dumary Island, and have since vanished from the museum.” Kang now began to elaborate, “Each is over 2,000 years old.”

Samantha continues to think about her work at Blackjack, “Ummmm, oh, I got an email about a trock angular.”

Nikki took a drink from her flute, “Yes, she was, before his fired me – but I am still rather concerned that something may have happened to her.”

“So – these items were stolen from a museum, and you want us to recover them?” Rhyaad asked.

Esther looks up from the form, “A what?”

“A Trock angular!”

“Yes,” Kang’s face expressionless, “that does sum it up nicely.”

“That’s why I went to the Harker manor you see because cause he sent the email . . . talked to him . . . got two books about it. . . . from him . . . . your Old Mr. Death, he wanted this chozo book . . . and so, there wasn’t anyone round . . . I went and found it for him.”

Mr. Kang sat now calmly observing Rhyaad’s reaction, “And, so to answer your question, I am hiring you because you have a reputation for dealing with the old and the unusual.”

“Of course, there is the obvious questions, Sir. ” Rhyadd asked, “Why have the authorities not been able to handle this theft? If – that is the authorities are even aware. And, what is so special about these arcane items that you require our services?”

On the phone, Chief St. Clair asked, “Concerned, Miss Collins, or is it you know something?”

“You mean Rhyaad?” Esther pointing with her pen toward the second office where Rhyaad and the old coot had gone as she was trying with some difficulty to to follow precisely what Sam had said.

Kang crossed his legs and adjusted the crease in his pant leg, “They have a tendency to curse whoever holds them.”

“Let us say I am fairly certain that something has happened to her.” Nikki told the Chief St. Clair

Samantha nodded, “Yes.”

“Touch them—and one finds himself doomed to a rather terrible death.” Kang added matter-of-factly.

Samantha reaches into her jacket pocket fishing out a piece of paper and holds up a picture of the book of Chozo, “This book.”

St. Clair was silent on the line for a moment.

“If you have a moment, could you perhaps stop by.” Nikki asks.

“This Chozo book? Esther asked not having a clue what any of that meant – and was sure that Nikki didn’t either.

Rhyaad raised his eyebrow. “Really? Do you mean literally holds them, or owns them?”

“Okay, I’ll be over in a moment.” St. Clair says.

“Thanks!” Nikki says to the Chief and took a sip of her blood.

Esther looked at Samantha for a long moment, as if lost in thought, then caught herself and says, “Fascinating.” She writes something down. “Right. So . . . where do you see yourself in the next 5 years?”

Rhyaad steeples his hands. “So let me get this straight. Anyone who touches these things will die—and you want us to get them for you?”

Samantha stared at Esther as if trying to read the answer to Esther’s question from Esther’s expression. She had little idea where she would be in the next five mintues let alone five years, “Ummm . . .”

“Yes, the man who was arrested for the theft recently died of plague symptoms.” Kang tells Rhyaad, “Not the plague. Just the symptoms.”

“Where should I be in 5 years?” Samantha asks leaning toward Esther and asking confidentially.

Rhyaad’s expression grew concerned, “That is rather odd.”

Esther tapped her pen on the form, “Like – where do ya wanna be, career wise. Perhaps is a better question.”

“So you expect us to touch these items to get them for you, no doubt?”

“I trust you are intelligent enough to devise a method of retrieving the Arcana without endangering yourself.” Kang said coolly, “So far, direct physical contact seems to transmit the… misfortune.”

(a fast forward through commercials)

” . . . .but, then you see, Alisa, she didn’t press charges and offered to let me stay in the offices in exchange for work . . . ” Samantha concluded

Esther sat looking at her. “Right . . .I see . . . Well then. I think that concludes this interview.”

The front door suddenly opens and Chief St. Clair enters, “Esther, “ she says nodding as she closes the door and turns to look at the young woman in the chair in front of Esther’s desk.

Samantha eyes Esther uncertain as to what she what she will do.

Esther reaches for her pack of cigarettes and flicks one out. “Chief.”

“She back in her office?” St. Clair points to the closed door.

Esther nods and the chief walks to Nikki’s door, knocks and enters.

Samantha sighs, “Let me guess I should just walk out the door right?”

“Well, I am not the one that has the final choice—” Esther informs her. “You should probably go now. We will find you. Good Night Miss Brook.”

Esther sets aside the application form.

‘You could like maybe give me a hint.”

“Miss Brook. We will get in touch with you and let you know when we reach a decision.”

“Miss Collins – gathered you wanted to see me.” St. Clair said and closed the door.

“Oh, do have a seat will you.” Nikki says and puts her glass down on the floor beside her chair.

Samantha looks to Esther, “Go where?”

“This Finch murder was a nasty piece of work – has some real similarities you know.”

“To the Vera Endecott murder.”

“Yes,’ St. Clair says and sits down across the desk from Nikki. “So – you think Natasha had anything to do with?”

Nikki leans forward, “Well, that’s just it – you see I am not uncertain that there isn’t a second victim to be found.”

Esther sits back and looks at Sam, “Well. I believe there is a shelter. They are using the ol’ cultist building. A much more secular organization seems to have move in. You might consider looking there.

“Natasha?” St. Clair sits back, “you mean?”

Nikki nods.

“We haven’t found a body.”

“I am not sure you will,” Nikki looks at her. She opened the desk drawer and took out a glass inside a plastic zip-lock bag, “How difficult would it be to have you check some fingerprints.”

“Not that difficult,” St. Clair said, “Whose you got in mind.”

Samantha gets up somewhat stiffly having been in the chair for a long while and coughs – she had hoped, well she thought Miss Nikki had indicated she would be able to stay with them – stay here in the offices and yet, here she was yet again being put out on the streets. ‘A shelter?”

“Yeah, just a moment.” Esther got up and walked over to the second office door, rapped on it twice and opened it.
“Rhyaad, them cult’s old building – they make that a shelter?” She asks, taking a quick look at the stiff looking old coot in the chair near his briefcase.

“Lillian Margaret Snow.” Nikki says and looks at St. Clair for a reaction.

“The Aunt?”

“Yes, they did have shelter. Abandoned. I think someone, the church, Trask – set up a charity shelter why?” Rhyaad asks

Nikki nods, “Better known as Vera Endecott.”

“Oh f**k, you’re s**tting me right?” St. Clair sits up.

Samantha wipes her hand on her jacket discreetly; adding to its filth a stain tinted a deeper red from her lips,

“No – ” Nikki shakes her head, “Sorry, I am not s**tting you at all. I think Vera Endecott was brought back and restored into Natasha’s body.”

Samantha shrugs and walks for the door, sadly, “Which way do I turn for the shelter?”

“Just down the road on your left. It’s the big ugly building with the Pyramid on it.”. Esther tells her.

Samantha nods and heads out, turning right, and disappears into the darkness.

“You know, of course, the best I can do, if these do match to Natasha . . . is filing a false report – she’ll just say she is Natasha working on some crazy assed script.”

Esther sighs and walks back over to her desk. She picks up the allication form and looks at it, “Crazy homeless person!”

Nikki rests her chin upon her left palm, elbow braced upon the desk top, “Porn flicks as I understand it don’t have that complex a plot.”

” These days some do.”

Rhyaad steps out of the second office door now, aware that Esther has sent the girl away, and walks into the lobby. “Yes—but I felt sorry for her. But, you have to understand she is a survivor in a crazy world.”

Nikki raises a brow at St. Clair in regards to the porn reference.

Esther looks at Rhyaad, “And so, what happened to the coot?”

“What?” St. Clair smiles, “I have to occasionally view them as evidence.”

“He seems to have fallen asleep.”

“Now who is s*****g whom?” Nikki smiles back lifting her chin from her hand.

Esther puts her pen away, “What did he want?”

“Creepy man. Really. Red eyes. I wonder if he’s human?” Rhyaad says walking over to Esther’s desk, noting Nikki’s office door is still closed. “He says he wants to hire us for a simple case. Basically he wants us to help him find some dangerous cursed ancient artifacts that cause the death or anyone who touches them . . . that’s all.”

“Touch them and you die.” Esther asks and gives him a look like right.

“Well, after some questioning I got him to say that you can touch them with wooden tongs.”

St. Clair frowns and looks at the glass inside the zip-lock bag, “So, what, you figure they pulled her out of one of those old films and used poor old Natasha as the body for her to occupy?”

“Okay – well, just what artifacts are they?’ Esther asks, not sure what to do with the application form.

“He says it’s a collection. A coin, a sword, something else . . . stolen from a museum.”

Nikki nods, “I think they used a special project and magic.”

Esther shakes her head, “Oh, nice note taking skill Rhyaad.

Rhyaad gives her a look, “Thanks!”

“Just a little something for the future. You might want to be more specific.”

St. Clair stands, “Okay, I will run the prints and get back to you. Magic, who you figure that was? Not Finch apparently.”

“Not sure at the moment, the only thing I have at the moment is a name. Blair.”

“Blair?” St. Clair repeats the name, “Sorry – doesn’t mean anything at me at the moment.”

“So what’s he asleep in there?” Esther peers back at the second office.

“Yeah, think so.”

Esther shakes her head, “Right. Great investigating put the client to sleep. Well. Get him out here, we’ll run him through the legal loops – see what pops out.”

“Be seeing you.” St. Clair said opening her office door.

“And you – be careful out there.” Nikki tells her, “We don’t need to be losing you at the moment.”

Rhyaad nodded. “I still want to hear more of his story though.”

He went back into the office to poke the old man. “Mr. Kang? Hey, Mr. Kang”

“Oh,” St. Clair stopped in the threshold and looked back at her, “Why don’t you just go ahead and finish that drink.” She winked and stepped back out of the office.

Kang suddenly wakes up, “Hm?’ Looks around, “Oh. My apologies.”

“So long chief, ” Esther says to St. Clair as she walks past her desk on the way to the front door and returns to shuffling through the paper stacks again.

“I’m afraid that when one gets to be my age, the body seldom does what it’s owner wishes.” Kang said sitting up.

“Good to have seen you Esther.” St. Clair looks up at the rifle, “It looks good up there, you know.”

Rhyaad nodded sympathetically, “It’s all right, Sir. Now if you would, how about coming out here and joining my colleague. I still want to hear the story of these arcane artifacts.”

“I’ll will get you copies of my research tomorrow.” Kang informed him sitting up straight once more.

Esther, nods, “That it does.” and finds a blank form in order to start up Rhyaad’s new case.

Kang gets up, lifts his briefcase and follows Rhyaad back out into the main office. They both take seats at Esther’s desk, sitting across from her. She picks up her cigarette resting in the ashtray and takes a long drag.

St. Clair stops for a moment to look at the odd Mr. Kang. “You be careful, the two of you.” She tells Rhyaad and Esther.

“A pleasure to see you again, if only briefly, St. Clair”, Rhyaad nodded to her.

Esther clicking her pen begins, “Sir, if I could have your full name, residency and phone number we can get started.”

As St. Clair steps out the door, Nikki opens her office and returns to the main lobby, where she looks quizzically at Rhyaad.

“Yes, Nikki?” He looked up at her.

Nikki indicated the man in the chair, eyes closed, who seemed once again to be asleep – to her he does not look old but ancient.

Esther shakes her head.

Rhyaad reaches over and pokes the old man, “Mr. Kang, my colleagues are here, could you please try to stay awake, Sir.”

“I am awake, sir.” Kang differs, though his eyes are closed “I remain silent as nobody has asked me a question yet, but awake I remain.”

Nikki cocks her head at the odd statement and walks behind Esther and over to the lone black stool at sits back against the wall.

“Just resting your eyes I suppose,” Esther remarks, “Well, I have asked you several questions sir.” She feels herself elevating her voice as if speaking to someone hard-of-hearing, “So, let’s try this again, full name, residency and phone number.”

“So, what do we have here?” Nikki asks.

Esther sits with her pen ready, once again waiting on the old coot.

“A new customer, Nikki. One who pays in gold. For acquiring things that kill you if you touch them.” Rhyaad explains.

“And will not answer the simplest of questions.” Esther adds now exasperated with the night.

“My name is Ures Kang.” The man says opening his eyes to look across the room at Nikki.

“Oh, now that is interesting – “Nikki replies as she sits back to rest the crown of her head upon the wall, “And so, how does one go about retrieving something one can not touch – even if for gold bars?”

Rhyaad motions with his fingers at his own eyes trying to draw Nikki’s attention to the fact the man has red eyes.

“And I do not own a phone.” Kang tells Esther even though he continues to look at Nikki.

“And where do you live? What is your address, so that we may reach you.” Esther asks.

But Nikki seems rather disinterested as she sits leaning her head back against the wall, and only slowly turning to look at their possible new client.

“He indicates that we will be needing wooden tongs— “ Rhyaad adds, “I got that much out of him.”

“17829 Brookmere Road, Trismagia, Dumary Island.”

Esther writes his address down, “And what do you want us to find?”

“Wooden tongs.” Nikki asks.

“To pick up the deadly artifact with.” Rhyaad replies.

“A collection of 4 artifacts actually. A collection known as the Arcana.” Kang tells her, “A Chalice, a Coin, a Staff, and a Sword.”

Nikki sitting now with her eyes closed, head against the wall, not looking at them says to Esther: “Write down death.”

“The artifacts are highly dangerous, hence the rather astronomical sum I am willing to pay as compensation.”

“Oh like in Tarot.” Esther continues to write, writing down ‘find death’ as Nikki had instructed, “But Bubby always called the coins Pentacles.”

“They are very old. Dated 2,000 years at least, and have been confirmed as being used in early pagan rituals on the island.”

Esther looks up from the form, “And which Island is that?”

“Arcana simply means anything that is old and mysterious.” Rhyaad offers as he sits in his chair and relaxes.

“Dumary Island?”

Kang nods, “Dumary Island, part of the union of Vie de Marli.”

“Not making any judgments sir, just stating a fact – what you want found is death, it’s just in the form of an artifact.” Nikki says, head still leaning back against the wall, her eyes closed.

“Which is – “ Esther still trying to fill out her form.

“Perhaps. One may wish to look at it that way.’ Kang tells her, “But in any case, the items are extremely valuable for both their magical properties and their archeological significance.” Kang offers.

“He claims that someone else wants to obtain the artifacts in order to use them for nefarious intentions.” Rhyaad tells Nikki, looking at her sitting across the room, oddly detached – normally her bright sapphire eyes would be most observant.

Nikki smiles, “And which of those interests you, sir?”

“While many groups are concerned with the former, I am interested in the latter.”
Kang tells her. “I have devoted the last nine years to their study.”

“Mr. Kang, I have to tell ya, we do not offer services far from Collinsport itself. If this Dummary Island is not even part of the United States, which I suspect it isn’t, I am afraid you might be out of luck.” Esther takes a last draw from her cigarette and stubs it into the ashtray.

“He says he can provide us with his research.” Rhyaad tells Nikki.

“I have reason to believe at least one of them has been sent here.”

“That would be most helpful.” Nikki replies.

Rhyaad shrugged at Esther. “It’s up to Nikki – if we take the case. She’s the boss.”

“On the man who stole the items, his phone had a text simply saying “pick it up at Collinsport”.

“Which of them do you think is here?” Nikki asks.

Rhyaad suddenly has a thought, “Question . . . why are not the thieves dead?”

“The thief IS dead.”

“If you have all the research, and the means to touch the objects.” Esther puts her pen down, “Then why do you need to come to us?

“The thief died of plague symptoms after handling the artifacts with his bare hands.” Kang repeated to Rhyaad, before turning to Esther, “Miss, I am old. I celebrate my 78th birthday next week.”

“Then another thief stole them from the first thief, I presume.” Rhyaad conjectured.

“I do not have the time or the strength left in me to pursue these items myself. And let us not forget the risks these artifacts carry. Not many would take such a job, even for what I offer.”

“And how much do you offer?” Esther pressed the question of payment; “I saw a briefcase full of metal . . . for a second.”

Rhyaad nodded at that, and looked to Nikki.

“What is it’s equivalent in US Dollars?” Esther asked pointedly.

“$500,000. I had to sell much of my own personal collection to achieve that.”

“What would one of these bring, if offered on the open market?” Nikki suddenly spoke up – well aware the man has not answered the question in regards to which artifact he thinks is in Collinsport.

“Depends on if the buyer was aware of the Arcana’s significance. An unaware buyer would regard it as old trash.

“Let us say –If one were aware . . . what would they be willing to pay, top dollar.”

“An interested, educated buyer who knew the risks and was still willing to make a purchase might pay anything, even human lives, to get it.”

“Seems someone already has.” Nikki noted.

“Of course, any single item of the four would still fetch a hefty sum.”

Esther leans forward, “And your personal interest in the artifacts are purely archaeological?”

“My interest is the better part of the past decade I have committed to their study.”

Nikki continued to lean back against the wall, her head resting against as if only vaguely interested in the coversation.

“I still have no idea who made the items originally, or their initial purpose.” Kang explains to Esther.

“Excellent question, Esther. After all, does he intend to return them to the museum? Perhaps he wants to hire us because he wishes to keep them himself.”

“If you call the Trismagia Museum of Archaeology, they will confirm my employment.” Kangs voice now beginning to rise.

“Well, the choice is not mine to make,” Esther tells him, “But we will discuss this and let you know our answer Mr. Kang. Are you staying in town?”

“Or at least that I had employment until this fiasco.” He said annoyed. ‘Oh, yes I am.”

“If you could just give us your hotel’s information, we should get back to you . . . day after tomorrow? Tomorrow?

Nikki, her eyes still closed, “Let’s say my interests were slightly different – what if I were more interested in their magical properties – other than inducing death, what do they do?”

“Aside from cursing the holder, they grant the wisdom and skills of the ancients to the bearer. Knowledge long since forgotten is recalled by the holder until they die.”

Nikki still leaning against the wall, “Is that from one, or do you need them all to gather that knowledge?”

“You would need the complete set.”

“A dubious prize, knowledge in exchange for your life.” Rhyaad contemplated.

“Indeed. As an archeologist, that thought has oft tempted me to take them myself. But my sense of self-preservation prevented me from doing so.”

“Well, as I said – we will contact you with our answer Mr. Kang.”

Rhyaad nodded. “Yes, Mr. Kang. We will need some time to discuss this case and get back to you.”

“You can reach me at room 216 of the Marriott down the road.”

Nikki opened her eyes, “Thanks Mr. Kang – let me get with my colleagues and we will get back to you as soon as we can.”

Esther notes the room number of the Marriott.

“Oh, the Collinsport Inn is a much nicer facility, you should try it.” Nikki adds.

Rhyaad nodded at that. “Indeed. I have been there recently.”

“Well, thank you for the suggestion.”

“I am sure that briefcase is a bit heavy, would you like Mr de’Annar to help you carry it to your car?”

Kang rises and struggles to his feet, “I hope you accept this case. Those artifacts are invaluable.”

Rhyaad now stands, ready to offer assistance.

Kang takes his case, bows as much as his back will allow, and heads to the door.

“I assure you we will get back to you quickly one way or the other.” Nikki rises from the stool to watch the man as he made his way to the door.

“Ah. That will be most encouraging.”

Rhyaad smiled as he strode over to the door with him, “I would like to have your gold, Mr. Kang. And help prevent the use of these artifacts by malicious people. We will consider it.”

Nikki smiled, “Thanks for coming in Mr. Kang.”

“Goodnight Mr. Kang,” Esther offers also.

Kang opens the door and leaves.

“Quel du”, Rhyaad bowed his head slightly.

Esther turned immediately to Nikki, “Well? Waddya think?”

“Rhyaad?” Nikki instead asks.

“Well” He said as soon as the man was gone. “First of all, it’s a search for artifacts that kill the handlers – not your everyday case to be sure. And he is not telling us everything, obviously. Then I don’t blame him. I would not tell us everything if I were him. I mean, it would certainly pay the bills. But is the risk worth it?”

Nikki returns Esther’s stare: “Esther?”

Esther crosses her arms, “The relationship to tarot . . . the Minor Arcana. Am I the only one who sees that connection?

“No.” Nikki replies, “You are not the only one.”

“Not really.” Rhyaad shakes his head.

“The artifacts seem to be representative of the suits.” Nikki explains.

“The artifacts are the same as the suits.” Esther says.

“But Arcana has so many meanings.” Rhyaad opbjected.

Esther shakes her head “I can’t help but think that it’s not worth it. Too many risks. The obvious risk of death, but who pays in gold bars? Seriously? Ironbars painted gold yes. And I believe in this context, it is safe to make the connection to the minor Arcana of tarot. And so – I’m not sure about this one—and remember we still have a case going on.”

“I have two questions.” Nikki says.

“Then I suppose he who possessed all the objects would have the power to know the future – at the expense of his own death. Since the man is so old anyway, he probably considers this acceptable risk” Rhyaad ponders aloud.

“Yeah Nik?” Esther more interested in Nikki’s questions.

“And you are right, we still have the Snow case . . . do we have time for this.’ Rhyaad thinking aloud, turns to Nikki, “But yes, Nikki?”

“First question is why in all the cities of the world, a thief brings this artifact to a small Maine fishing town?”

Esther grins: “Of all the gin joints . . . .”

“Not New York, London, Paris, Chicago, Miami, but Collinsport.” Then rather sarcastically, “I know Collinsport is a big spot on the map.”

“Well, it is one of the stranger places in New England, Nikki. If there were going to be deadly artifacts, this would be the place.” He grinned slightly.

Esjter shook her head.

“But a good point. Why here? Why us?” Rhyaad continues

“Second, why is it that the old gentleman is able to completely block me, I could not read a single thought.”

Rhyaad shrugged at that. “I would not have noticed. I don’t have such abilities. But his eyes . . . they are most unusual.”

Esther thought a moment, “That I donno.”

Rhyaad held up his hands, “Honestly I think it is out of our scope, this case. But it would bring in a lot of money. It’s up to you, Nikki.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Nikki said thinking it over.

“Lets sleep on it. “Esther suggests, “Sleep on it, and we can decide tomorrow.”

“An excellent idea, Esther.” Rhyaad agreed readily with that.

Behind him, the door opens and Samantha Brook slips in quietly.

Esther yawns, “Right. Lets close up shop. Some of us don’t stay up all night you two , you know.”

Rhyaad turning notices now Sam has returned, “Ah, Miss Brook is back. Could you not break in to that cultist place?”

Samantha Brook walks over to Rhyaad, “Yeah, I was sleeping in the cemetery . . . and thought you should know there was a mafia hit or something out there . . .”

“What” Rhyaad asks looking at her oddly, “ A mafia hit in the cemetery?”

Samantha Brook nods, “Was almost sleeping when I heard some woman asking, no demanding some information about something.”

“Ugh. I’m going to bed.” Esther rises and hands the form for Brook’s application over to Nikki. Underneath, written in red pen are the words. Not recommended, Mentally disturbed. Your choice.

Rhyaad shaking his head, “In a graveyard?”

Esther waves, “Shalom”

Samantha looks at him her eyes wide, “Some little shrimp started squealing he didn’t know anything more. Then, she killed him and had goons bury him. Then she said, No one double-crosses me”

Cue Music End of Episode