New Haven. October 4, 2006.
Sam hadn't returned to the Townsend mausoleum since they'd emptied the warded cache. At the time Mozzie had been convinced they'd unearth treasures comparable to Tutankhamun's tomb. He'd left deeply disappointed. What would he think if they found an even larger document repository?
Sara had never entered an abandoned tomb. She had the enthusiasm of novice ghostbusters everywhere. But Dean's glee was something new. Was it because he'd found the Latin clue? Whatever. He was grinning like he'd been invited onstage at a rock concert.
Sam had shaken off his dismay over the veiled woman. Chloe tested the book and discovered it was enchanted. Sam told her he'd felt a ghostly presence but hadn't given any further details, and she didn't quiz him about it. The book was now safely inside a curse box. Hopefully, the nightmares would stop as well.
The interior of the mausoleum held five recessed caskets and a number of small marble urns used for cremated remains. During previous visits, they didn't bother clearing away cobwebs. It must have been a good summer for spiders since the webs were now much more numerous.
"Where do we start?" Chloe asked, looking to Neal for guidance. He'd become their go-to man for hiding spots.
"We're working on the assumption that there's a storeroom," Neal said, scanning the space. "The mausoleum is too small for it to be concealed on the ground level. That means we're looking for steps leading to a subterranean vault." He pointed to the wall next to the recessed caskets. "For instance, one of the stones could be a fake panel."
"The technology would have been no later than the 1950s and probably much earlier," Dean cautioned. "It couldn't have been very sophisticated."
"Not necessarily," Sara said. "Some mechanical devices from the Renaissance are surprisingly intricate."
She and Neal began tapping stones. Sam joined the other men in checking around the caskets and urns while the women searched for any hint of magic or enchantment. They'd left the door ajar to allow some light and fresh air to penetrate the gloomy interior. Midafternoon there likely wouldn't be many visitors to the cemetery.
"Could I have quiet, please?" Neal called out.
Everyone froze in place as six pairs of eyes glued upon their expert's every move. Neal placed his ear next to a stone about five feet from the floor and gave it a sharp tap. He nodded with satisfaction at the plunk. "Do you hear the difference?" he asked, tapping it again and then performing the same action to the stone next to it.
"The first one sounds hollow in comparison," Chloe said, her face lighting up.
"Exactly," Neal said. He winked at Sara. "And this is a lucky day for buried treasure."
Dean frowned as he examined the wall. "Kids, I like your enthusiasm but the mortar looks solid."
"That's to be expected," Bobby said, opening up his toolbox. "Think about the circumstances. Henry's great-grandfather got the key to the mausoleum probably around 1958. The last dated document we've found is for 1957. We know that Abaddon was hell-bent on wiping out the Men in Letters in 1958. Chapter houses were no doubt furiously trying to secure their most precious resource—knowledge. If there is a secret room, it would have been sealed up tighter than a miser's money bags." He rubbed his hands together, eyeing the stone. "Dean, you with me on this?"
Dean grinned. "Already got the chisel out." He slapped on a pair of safety goggles.
The rest of them stood back and watched as Dean and Bobby chipped the masonry away.
"I see something!" Dean exclaimed, his voice ringing with excitement. He shone a flashlight at the gap. "It's part of a blue metal plate."
"We'll get this sucker out in a minute," Bobby said. Bits of masonry started to fly from their chisels. When they finally removed the stone, a blue electrical plate was revealed. Next to the switch was a pull-down lever, probably meant to be used if the switch wasn't working.
"Stand next to the tomb entrance," Bobby ordered. "We don't know where the opening will be."
When the switch was finally toggled, the only result was a loud groan coming from everyone. The juice that powered it was gone. Would the lever be a similar exercise in frustration? What then? Could they dismantle the tomb?
Dean let loose a string of curses before he finally was able to free the lever. "Okay, here goes nothing," he muttered, yanking the lever down. With a raspy rumble of gears, one of the floor slabs began to move. It was at the far end of the tomb, several paces from the small cubbyhole they'd previously explored. When the slab stopped moving, they had a three-foot square opening. A metal step ladder led down to a decent-sized storeroom. It was packed with file cabinets, a desk and chair, and mechanical contraptions of unknown purpose. They'd hit the mother lode!
* * * * *
Sara raised her wineglass to Neal. "Meeting a friendly demon, witnessing Itsumi being liberated from her enchantment, discovering a hidden depository of the Men of Letters—what a birthday!" She stroked the gold seahorse pendant which Neal had just placed around her neck. "But my favorite gift is my seahorse. Actually, that's not true. You're my favorite gift." They clasped hands across the table.
They'd left the tomb shortly after the discovery, leaving the Scoobies to plunder it. Neal and Sara's evening was meant for celebration. He'd booked a romantic table for them at the restaurant in the inn. They were sitting in a secluded alcove overlooking the lush gardens. They dined by candlelight. Sara was wearing a dress of rose-colored silk. She'd made him promise not to tell the others it was her birthday. She didn't want anything to change their plans for their private celebration.
Seahorses had a special significance for both of them. For his underwater explorer, seahorses were her favorite marine animal, and for him, thinking about Sara as Shellie the seahorse had kept him safe from a cybercriminal's mind games. Shellie would always have a special place in his heart right next to Sara.
"Our Rosemary Suite in Wisteria's inn could easily pass as a honeymoon suite," he said. "Chloe told me rosemary is used in spells."
Sara's eyes widened, her salmon mousse forgotten. "You mean that plant in our bedroom could have been affecting us?"
"It's supposed to awaken thoughts of love and passion," he said in a seductive murmur. "I must have been under its influence the day we met, and the feeling only grows stronger every day."
"Then I'm under the same spell. I also noticed that Janet has included several rosemary plants in her plans for our rooftop gardens."
"Janet's a member of the Silver Cauldron," he said. "She must know its significance."
"This confirms I need to attend those meetings too. We wouldn't want any evil herbs to influence our future."
"No chance of that happening," he said confidently.
"And just to ease your mind, I don't expect similar excitement on future birthdays. Simply spending it with you in our home can't be topped."
"You mean you don't want to go to Scotland?" he teased. "Don't we need to research those MacLeod relatives?"
She chuckled. "That's a definite yes along with researching the Caffreys in Ireland, but not necessarily over my birthday." Her expression grew thoughtful. "You'd prepared me for Crowley being snarky, but not for how helpful he turned out to be. Maia told me she still thinks of him as an uncle even though she realizes he's a demon, and he gives every impression of valuing his friendship with us."
"I've been thinking about that. The way Itsumi's personality was being affected by the tanuki made me wonder if Hagen isn't influencing Crowley. The last time I was with Hagen—that was shortly before he was possessed—he and I connected. Hagen latched onto me, called us brothers. He knew I understood his world."
"Does Hagen have any family?"
"Not to my knowledge. He was a loner as I suspect Crowley is. It could be that he's suffering from a double dose of loneliness now."
"You may be right," she said. "He certainly gave the impression of enjoying his visit at the Mystery Mansion." Her phone buzzed, and she made a face. "I hope this isn't work calling. Henry already texted me about a case in Chicago." She glanced at the display. "It's Chloe. I better take it."
Neal could only hear Sara's remarks which weren't very enlightening but she sounded like she'd just gotten another gift. When she ended the call, she said, "You'll never believe what Chloe discovered."
"All right, I won't try."
"Do you remember that Crowley gave me an odd look when he heard my mother's name was MacLeod?"
He nodded. "I was curious about that."
"Chloe found out why. A famous witch has the same surname! Rowena MacLeod lived in the seventeenth century in Scotland." Sara smiled mischievously. "I could have a little witch blood in me!"
* * * * *
Chloe had never been so glad she'd informed the cemetery that she was a Townsend on her mother's side. Mozzie had provided the necessary paperwork, proving she had the right to visit her family's tomb whenever she liked. So when Bobby drove his pickup to the tomb, they didn't have to worry about anyone challenging their right to be there.
They brought two loads of documents and miscellaneous equipment back to the mansion before calling it quits for the day. The men thought they'd be able to clear everything out in a couple of days. They were now in the basement debating where to store the stuff.
Maia had exchanged looks with Chloe and murmured that there were already too many cooks in that kitchen and they could spend their time much more productively upstairs in the orchid grow room. Finding out about Rowena MacLeod was an unexpected bonus. The witch had appeared to vanish from history when she was in her forties. Chloe hoped she hadn't met the same fate as her ancestor, Bridget Bishop, who was hanged for witchcraft in Salem around the same time that Rowena was alive.
Maia picked up a pot of bumblebee orchids. The blooms quivered gracefully as if they wanted to take flight.
"You're being very quiet," Maia said. "Is anything wrong?"
Chloe resumed dividing the butterfly orchid on the worktable. "Not exactly. I wish I was better at detecting enchantments."
"You're being too hard on yourself. Look at how much you've accomplished after practicing for only a year. And that's without having a teacher."
"Exactly," Chloe agreed, relieved Maia brought up the subject. "When Crowley said that we might be able to communicate with Astrena through the crystal ball, I wondered if I shouldn't use it."
Maia looked at her, horrified. "Not to contact her, I hope!"
"Not Astrena but Airmid. Peony was able to connect with our ancestor through a séance, but we didn't hold a proper conversation. The crystal ball may allow us to. Just think of the help she could provide us with potions!"
Maia didn't appear swayed. "I thought we decided Astrena's crystal ball was too dangerous to use. Promise me you won't experiment on your own."
"Of course not, but someday we may need to. This time everything worked out, but we can't count on that always being the case. Dean, Sam, and Bobby put their lives on the line every time they go hunting. Shouldn't we prepare ourselves to handle emergencies?"
"What are you suggesting?"
"I'm not sure," Chloe admitted, her frustration leaking through. "seeing how much assistance Neal and Sara provided on this job makes me think we shouldn't turn down help from any source." She stopped abruptly. Shouldn't that include Graham and Julia's offer? Was this the moment she'd been waiting for? At worst, Dean would simply shoot down the notion.
* * * * *
Sam felt for Chloe when she flushed scarlet. She'd probably been agonizing for days over how to approach the subject. He'd suspected something was up when she and Maia returned to the basement, but he never would have attributed Chloe's nervousness to the proposal she just made.
"Don't we have enough innocents in the world to protect?" Dean added. "They saw Abaddon. You'd think that'd be enough of a warning for anyone. Bobby, Sam, you're with me on this, aren't you?"
"I don't see how we can object to Graham researching his ancestors if he wants to," Sam said, hedging his answer. "Any jobs he reads about will be decades old. And get this, they may discover a second cache of documents from some other chapter. We can't even guess how many there were. The Winslows could provide a useful service."
"I doubt Henry will feel that way," Dean countered. "And I'm with him. He's got a great family. Who wouldn't want to keep them safe? Can't he encourage Graham to take up golf instead?"
Bobby snorted. "Before you put me out to pasture with him, let me throw in my two cents. I haven't met Henry's grandpa, but if he's reaching out a hand to help, I'd be mighty slow to slam the door in his face. Frankly, I doubt Graham would unearth much about either Seth or the Men of Letters. Henry investigated it and came up with squat. If Graham wants to research cold cases, I say let him. We still don't know where the headquarters was. Maybe he'll find something. As for Julia's offer to help with the data, it's tempting, but I'd have to be a damn sight more comfortable with them before entrusting them with any of our lore."
Sam cast a regretful eye on the mountain of documents he'd need to review. "I'm with Bobby. Much as I'd love help with the files, we don't know enough to agree. To take just one issue, how secure would the information be?"
"Excellent point," Dean said, giving Sam an approving nod. "Every day we read about hackers stealing data. And that's not the only problem. Would Win-Win's agents grow curious about them? Decide to get their jollies by chasing down werewolves? Once we let others have the lore, we lose what little control we have over how the records are used. I know Dad would never agree."
* * * * *
"I didn't expect to see you here today," Henry said when Neal strolled into his office. "Didn't you just get back from New Haven this morning?"
"Yeah, but Sara's heading off for Chicago, the construction racket is louder than ever, and I wanted to make a good impression on my new boss."
"You just want to check if our coffee is up to your standard."
"That too," Neal acknowledged. "Sara told me about the exhaustive study Sofia made. What did she come up with?"
"An Italian single-brew with biodegradable coffee pods, satisfying both the coffee gourmet and the environmentalist. The machine has already received Mozzie's seal of approval."
"I feel at home already." Henry had an expectant look in his eyes. He knew Neal wouldn't show up midafternoon without a good reason. He didn't appear surprised when Neal closed his office door.
"Is this work-related?" Henry asked.
"In a way. You know Julia's been helping Chloe. Recently, she added a twist. She and Graham offered to help the Winchesters with their research."
As expected, Henry frowned at the news. "I'm not surprised Pops has been bitten by the Men of Letters bug, but I was counting on Julia to tamp down his interest. Chloe turned them down, right?"
"It wasn't her decision to make. She called me for advice on how to handle it." As Neal reviewed the various concerns they raised, he hoped it'd give Henry sufficient time to consider the idea. "Chloe thought that Dean in particular wouldn't agree to any kind of cooperative effort."
"And you worried that if I heard about it, I'd read Pops the riot act unnecessarily." Henry made a face. "You know me well."
"I might have done the same thing in your shoes," Neal said, sympathizing with the dilemma he'd been put in. "Chloe called late last night. She'd discussed the offer with the group. They realize that Graham could investigate whether or not they cooperate so they may as well accept the offer gracefully. As for Julia's offer, that's off the table for now. Dean also said that he wants to check with you first. If you're not okay with it, they won't proceed."
Henry huffed and was silent for a moment. "Not too long ago, I'd suggested Pops look into volunteering for a cause that interested him. This isn't what I had in mind."
"No, I don't imagine so, but it's also a golden opportunity," Neal said, deciding to try a gambit Sara had suggested.
Henry looked at him, puzzled.
"How long has it been since you worked on a case with him?"
"Except for the U-Boat con, it's been years."
"Now's your chance. Finding out about Seth and the early history of the Men of Letters doesn't sound any more dangerous than driving on a highway."
"I doubt there's much to find."
"Maybe not, but aren't you curious to see what Graham would come up with? And if nothing else, this could help to make the Winchesters feel more comfortable with the Winslows."
Henry chuckled. "Pops calls them the Young Pups. He's made it a mission to get to know them better. This scheme is probably more about that than anything else."
As they continued to discuss the idea, Henry became more enthusiastic. Neal was glad he was starting to see how he could benefit from it. With Dean and Sam on board, Henry could lay down the terms. In a sense, Graham and Julia would be working for him. The Winchesters and Winslows would have a joint project with the possibility of feeling more like a family afterward.
The happiness was a little bittersweet. He'd felt Peter's absence in New Haven. He missed the familiar joshing about the supernatural incidents. What would Peter have said about Itsumi? And it didn't seem right that Peter the archaeologist wasn't along for their search of the crypt. But Neal realized he was being selfish. Peter was eager to start the next chapter of his life.
* * * * *
How many times had Peter walked through the Columbia campus on his way to visit Neal? The route had become so familiar, he could navigate it with his eyes closed. Neal continued to have his art studio at Watson Hall. His status as a grad student was the same. Peter still volunteered at the telescope workshop on Saturdays. But the world had changed, and he felt out of sync.
The fencing matches were history. With Neal's fellow musketeers Richard and Aidan no longer enrolled at Columbia, Neal had dropped the activity. Now he used the fencing club in Chelsea. Worse, Peter hadn't seen Neal since their last day at White Collar.
Not that he didn't have plenty to do, like that mountain of reports he needed to review. His new section was much larger than White Collar, and he'd held one-on-ones with every agent. The layout of his new office was similar to what Hughes had. He was on a balcony where he could look down upon a much larger bullpen. Some of the agents he'd known before, and after his first week, none was a stranger. But there was no one like Neal. The office was less colorful with him no longer on the team.
Peter shook off the malaise. Parents often suffered from separation anxiety when their kids left the nest, but for him to come down with postpartum depression was something he wasn't about to admit to anyone, not even El. He reminded himself why he'd applied for the transfer. His pay would be much better. For El and Baby Burke's sake, he needed to focus on his career. The ops with Neal had been unforgettable but it was time to move on. Besides, it wasn't like Neal was no longer a part of his and El's lives. Instead, with the wedding fast approaching, Sara would join Neal as a member of their family.
By the time he arrived at Neal's studio, he'd buried those unsettled feelings deep. Neal's smile was as warm as ever. He was clad in jeans and a turtleneck. A sketchpad was on his worktable. Already Peter felt better.
"I thought I might find you painting," Peter said.
"I will after lunch. With Sara in Chicago and the construction racket at home, I plan to spend most of the weekend here. June made the wise decision to visit one of her daughters for the next couple of weeks." He gestured for Peter to take a seat on one of the lab stools while he perched on the other. "How did your first week as section head go? I bet you've already added your personal stamp."
"Give me a few more weeks then ask me again. I thought of you and how you used to moan over a couple of files to read. You would have passed out at all the paperwork confronting me."
Neal frowned. "You need to tear yourself free from that drudgery. Have you scheduled any boot camps for the agents?"
Peter snorted. "They're the ones who should be giving me one. How about you? You were in New Haven most of the week. I bet you didn't have any time to shoot pool at Win-Win."
Neal's smile broadened. "Friday was my first chance. I plan to keep Lord Byron there."
Neal had told him that June had presented him with Byron's cue stick. "I bet he'll bring you good luck."
"He already has," Neal said. "I'm happy to report we recovered the stolen items in New Haven."
"Good for you," Peter said warmly, not letting himself reveal a hint of wistfulness at not being there. "No supernatural involvement, I take it?"
Neal shrugged. "Do you really want to know about the enchantment?"
Peter stared at him. Neal was watching him thoughtfully with not a hint of a tease. "Clearly it had a happy ending."
"It did. Sara was thrilled to meet our demon pal, Crowley. Henry was delighted at the recovery of the stolen property. Dean and Sam are over the moon about the hidden storeroom we discovered in that old tomb in Grove Cemetery. Peter, you should have been there."
As Neal described the details, Peter wished he had been.
"Many of the documents appear to have been made by Seth Winchester, aka Seth Winslow. Henry and Eric drove to New Haven last night and will spend the weekend at the Mystery Mansion. Two new volunteers will meet them there."
"Dean and Sam have volunteers now?"
"Yes, and highly skilled ones. Graham and Julia want to help."
As Neal told him about their offer, Peter's reaction went from stunned disbelief to happiness, particularly for Graham. The Winchesters and Henry would ensure no harm came to him and Julia.
"What happened to the thief?" Peter asked.
"She was from Tokyo. They used banishing oil to dispatch her back to her home in Japan. That's what she wanted."
"How did you leave it with the New Haven police?" Peter asked.
"Sara and I led them to the cache of jewels. We'd managed to obtain a few photos of the thief before we knew she was acting under a spell. The police now have them. The images were taken at night, and she wore a mask. With no fingerprints to go on, the chances of them identifying her are virtually nil." Neal shrugged. "Fortunately, that's not my concern anymore."
Insurance investigators worked with local law enforcement officials who were responsible for arresting the perpetrators. For Neal, who counted many thieves as his friends, it must be a relief that he wouldn't be involved in any captures. Had this Japanese thief become—like Alex and Raquel—a friend? Peter knew Win-Win was much looser about interpreting the law than the Bureau was. How did Sara feel about that? Had she adopted Neal and Mozzie's gray ethics too? More to the point, did Peter really want to know? His understanding of the criminal world was no longer black and white either. Would that cause issues down the road for him? Instead of worrying about Neal backsliding, shouldn't he focus on his own decisions?
"You okay?" Neal asked. "You seem to have zoned out."
Dismayed at being caught in the act, Peter hurriedly slapped a carefree smile on his face. "The Roaring Lion Pub is calling to me. Let's go have lunch."
He was simply suffering from the natural stress caused by a transfer. His suit wasn't really too tight. He'd adapt. If Neal did occasionally stray off the straight and narrow, it was Henry's problem, not his. Not that Henry would probably even consider it a problem. Peter took a breath. His days of chasing down supernatural foes were over.
* * * * * * * * * *
Notes: Really, Peter? I wouldn't count on it. The crystal ball may reveal a different fate for you.
The next Caffrey Conversation story is Henry Takes a Holiday by Penna Nomen. The next Crossed Lines story is Bewitched.