Page 59 of Into the Fire

His phone buzzed with an incoming call, and he saw it was from Gabriella before it went to voicemail.

“No argument on that,” Cassidy confirmed. “I know you’re working up to a confrontation with the landvaettir, so you need the pieces for now, just in case. But when you’re finished, either Sorren or Donnelly can pick them up from you or Gabriella.”

If Cassidy’s chosen messengers were a vampire or a necromancer, that made clear her estimation of the objects’ potential for harm.

“Sounds good. Do they intend to destroy the items?” Simon couldn’t help being curious.

“I don’t know. They’ll need to evaluate the risk and figure out the safest way to store them.”

Simon guessed that both Sorren and Donnelly knew of ways to lock up dangerous magical items forever. Just the thought of what sorts of things would qualify made him shiver.

“Thanks,” Simon told his cousin. “Maybe next time we can actually do something fun together when we’re done saving the world.”

“That would be awesome,” Cassidy agreed. “In the meantime, be careful.”

“You too.” Simon ended the call and returned Gabriella’s call next.

“Simon, what have you gotten us into now?” Gabriella jokingly chided, but he could hear the real concern beneath her words.

He filled her in on what happened during the drive back from the hotel, his research on the pieces they had found, and what Cassidy had told him.

“I think the flaming tree was an attack by the fire salamander. It reminded me of the dark ghosts’ role in Vic’s wreck.”

“Glad you both are okay. Sorry that happened,” Gabriella said. “And I agree with your cousin one hundred percent. The book and the other stuff you found attract the wrong sorts. I’ll keep them safe until we’re through with them,” Gabriella replied.

“Cassidy can make sure the book and dagger don’t hurt anyone else. But before she makes them disappear, I was worried they might be needed to restore the banishment on the landvaettir and seal up the bad vibes at Ocean Visions,” Simon replied.

“I don’t like the idea of using either of them—even warded—but you’re right about keeping our options open until the hotel is locked down again,” Gabriella agreed.

“I’m going to do a séance tonight,” Simon told her. “Maybe I can reach out to the ghosts of the witches who did the original binding. I don’t know if they’ve already moved on, but it would be helpful. Neither one has practicing descendants; I already checked.”

“I never doubted your research skills.” Gabriella laughed. “I’ll see what I can find without bringing anyone else into this. Let me know when you’re ready to wrap things up at the hotel.”

They promised to keep each other posted on their findings. After the call ended, Simon found himself sitting in his office staring at the wall, trying to decipher his psychic impressions and turbulent thoughts.

A glance at the clock told him that Vic was still at work. Simon poured another cup of coffee and started paging through the diaries and papers Sanderson had brought to him, looking for anything about either the grimoire or the dagger.

The only mention he found had been flagged by Sanderson with a sticky note. The simple one-paragraph comment remarked on the similarity between the light magic ritual and the Roman Catholic rite of exorcism, considering them two approaches toward the same goal, underpinned with differing worldviews.

“I hope Gabriella or Donnelly come up with the right liturgy to lock the landvaettir back up,” Simon murmured as he closed the folder and rubbed his eyes. “That’s above my pay grade.”

The alarm on Simon’s phone reminded him it was time to head home. He saw a text from Vic saying he would stop to pick up dinner from their favorite BBQ restaurant and felt relieved at not needing to plan a meal.

His thoughts spun as he drove, and he nearly missed a red light, earning him a well-deserved blast from another car’s horn. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered.

The longer the landvaettir is unbound, the stronger it gets. Maybe moving Madame Mason and the grimoire drained its power a little bit, but once it recovers, we’re all going to be in trouble. We’ve got to lock it down again, now.

By the time he got home, Simon still didn’t have a clear plan for how to imprison the entity, but his stomach growled from hunger, and he felt a headache coming on.

Vic was already there, and so was the food delivery. “Good timing, it just got here, so it’s hot.” Vic stretched from where he was sitting to greet him with a kiss. “And so are you.”

Simon appreciated his husband’s flattery, although he suspected that after the stresses of the day, he didn’t look his best. “You’re pretty hot yourself.” He returned the kiss.

The conversation stayed light while they ate, and Simon suspected it was a conscious effort on both their parts. When they finished and the dishes were done, Vic poured them both glasses of wine and sat down again at the table across from him.

“Any thoughts on what killed Madame Mason?” Vic asked.

“Probably the fire ghost,” Simon replied. “But it likely drained the spirit quite a bit to do so.”