“You’re not going to threaten him, are you?”

  “Course not. I’m just going to talk to him. Persuade him to see things from our point of view.”

  Warman raised an eyebrow. “How are you going to do that?”

  “By telling him what’s out there waiting for him if he doesn’t help us.”

  “Which is what, exactly?”

  “You remember the Knights of Dissonance we tangled with at the beginning of summer?”

  Warman snorted. “Not like I could forget.”

  “Picture them, only undead, running around the city as we speak.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “Welcome to my life.”

  “Any idea what they want?”

  “I’ve a hunch they’re out there looking for this ring. If I’m right, then it’s only a matter of time before they start looking for good jewelers too. I imagine that will cause your friend some concern.”

  “I imagine it will.”

  “Good, then he should have no problem agreeing to lend a hand.”

  A Love of All That Is Shiny. Thursday, August 6th 1227hrs.

  The three of us finished our food, and I paid the bill on our way out. Once we said our goodbyes, Warman headed off toward the police station on foot while Tobin and I got back inside my car and started driving.

  Located in the Back Bay neighborhood, Newbury Street was one of the more tourist friendly areas of the city. A mile long stretch of shops, salons, galleries and restaurants which catered to Boston’s well-to-do.

  Keepsake’s Jewelry was located on the south side of the street, in a four-story brownstone opposite Deluca’s Market. According to Warman, its proprietor, Alberad Keep, had been there since before I was born. Which, in a city like Boston, is saying something.

  I parked in the public alley behind Fairfield Street, only a short walk from the shop. The spots were meant to be used for deliveries or by those shopkeepers who lived above their stores, but I told myself we would be quick.

  As we came out of the alley, I felt the hairs along the back of my neck rise, and I peered around, noting the figure lurking near the corner of the opposite alley.

  He was dressed in a heavy coat despite the fact that it was summer and wore a beanie hat that could be pulled low to conceal his features in a hurry. From a distance, he looked homeless, but something in his posture made me think he wasn’t a wino. More likely, he was a hustler. One of those folks who made their living walking around the city pleading poverty to visiting tourists. On a good day they could make as much as a regular job. On bad days, however, they tended to take out their frustrations on local shopkeepers and passing pedestrians. Whether through harassment, vandalism, or more serious crimes, like those against women.

  The hustler’s eyes met mine, and his lips peeled back into a smile that was anything but friendly. A small shiver went down my spine at the sight of his dilated pupils, but I kept my face smooth and forced myself to meet his gaze. A long moment passed, then I pulled back the edge of my jacket to reveal my badge and gun.

  The hustler’s smile vanished as if ripped from his face, and he turned on a dime and disappeared back down the opposite alley, casting a quick glance back over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

  “Thought so, jerk,” I muttered.

  “You say something, Sergeant?” Tobin asked.

  I snorted and shook my head, straightening my jacket before peering straight ahead. “Not a thing.”

  We reached the intersection of Newbury Street without further incident, and turned the corner, following the directions to the store.

  Had we arrived a minute later, we would have missed him, but luck was on our side, and we arrived just as a man emerged from the doorway. His keys jingled as he fished them from his pocket, inserted them into the door lock and turned the deadbolt. I noted the OPEN sign in the window had been flipped and now read that the store would reopen at two-thirty.

  “Alberad Keep?” I asked, projecting my voice.

  The man locking the door blinked and glanced back in surprise. He was in his early fifties, with honey blonde hair done up into a pompadour style. His eyes were pale green, and his frame slim, with delicate facial features and hands. “Yes, can I help you?”

  “My name is Chloe Mayfield. This is Tobin Stoutroot. We need to speak with you.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve just closed up shop for a bit of lunch. Can’t let the old blood sugar get too low, now can I? Perhaps the two of you could come by later?”

  “I’m afraid this can’t wait,” I said. “We have something we need you to look at.”

  Alberad Keep’s mouth tightened. “Unfortunately, I only do appraisals on Friday, and only by select appointment.”

  “I understand, and I don’t mean to impose, but if you could just take a look—”

  “If you’ll excuse me, Miss.” He took a quick step to the side. “As I said, only by select appointment. Now, I really must be going.”

  “You shouldn’t be so dismissive of people,” Tobin said, with a heavy frown. “The sergeant asked you nicely.”

  Alberad’s eyebrows rose. “Sergeant, is it? Well, be that as it may, if I gave up eating lunch for every Tom, Dick, or Katie who entered my shop wanting an appraisal of their grandmother’s keepsakes, I’d never see another bite of food in my life. Now, I really must insist, if you wish to speak with me, you’ll need to call the shop during regular business hours and make an appointment. Although I should warn you, I book out several months in advance and wait times can be quite long. Good day to you both.”

  “Tobin,” I said. “Show him.”

  Tobin glanced over at me, then brought his hands up, seized the edges of the chain and drew the ring out of his shirt. The ring caught the afternoon sun, and the blood drained from Alberad Keep’s face, his eyes widening as a low, animalistic sound slipped past his lips.

  “Are you mad?” He threw himself forward and seized Tobin’s arms, careful not to touch the ring. “Put it away, quickly!”

  “Hey now, hands to yourself.” Tobin shook him off, then glanced at me before shoving the ring back below his shirt collar. “Bit of a looney, aren’t you?”

  “He’s scared,” I said, watching the jeweler carefully. “And nothing dulls hunger pains quite like fear, does it?”

  Alberad shot me a panicked look, then shook his head and motioned us back toward the store. His hands shook as he removed the keys from his pocket, and it took him a couple tries to turn the deadbolt. Once the door was open, he ushered us inside, casting a last look down the street before following.

  “Who are you?” he asked as he locked the door behind us. “What do you want from me?”

  “We need your help,” I said. “I’m a sergeant with the Boston Police Department. I have reason to believe that bad people have come to my city, and I suspect it has something to do with this ring.”

  “You suspect?” Alberad asked, his voice rising. “My dear girl, do either of you have even the faintest idea of what it is you hold within your possession? How did you even come by it?”

  The two of us stared at one another before turning in unison to regard Tobin. He glanced between us, then shrugged. “The United States Postal Service.”

  “The Postal Service…” Alberad’s voice trailed off, and he shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “Maybe we should start at the beginning,” I said.

  Alberad drew in a long breath, then nodded and led us deeper into the store, past the display cases and through a swinging door into the back.

  His workstation consisted of a four-foot-wide bench, its surface scarred and burnished, bearing a faint shimmer of metallic dust. Gold mostly, and some silver. In the center of the desk sat a jeweler’s anvil, and, within arm’s reach, a corkboard bearing a small army of precision tools. Pliers in a variety of shapes, flat-nose, round, chain, and bent, alongside needle files, gravers, a delicate jeweler’s saw, a thick coil of silver wire, and a soldering torch. Beneath the bench were several drawers bearing velvet-lined trays filled with all manner of things I couldn’t adequately describe.

  As I drew closer, it became clear that the station in front of me was a living map of habit and craft. It was not a tidy place, but it was precise in its own way. Everything had a place, even if said place was dictated by instinct rather than order. From the surrounding air, I caught a familiar scent amidst the polish and oil, and it was one I knew all too well. Obsession, and a touch of desperation, to undo or make up for… I couldn’t say what.

  Alberad motioned toward the bench. “If you please.”

  Tobin waited for my nod before he drew out the chain. He lifted it over his head, undid the clasp and pulled the ring free. He extended his arm, and I thought he hesitated for just a moment before placing the ring down atop the anvil.

  Alberad withdrew a pair of magnifying goggles from his shelf, slipped them on over his head and adjusted the lamp so that it shone down. He lifted a pair of pliers and used them to lift the ring, holding it beneath the light for a long moment before letting out a long sigh. “Extraordinary. I confess, I never expected to see it again.”

  “You’ve seen it before?”

  “Just once. At a very special meeting. I was brought into their confidence out of necessity. They needed a jeweler, you see. One skilled enough to ensure that, should some unforeseen tragedy befall them, things would not dissolve into utter chaos.”

  “You make it sound so dangerous.”

  “My dear, it is no exaggeration to say that this ring may hold the fate of every man, woman, or child in New England. I cannot fathom how you came to own it, but I would advise extreme caution. It was foolish of you to bring it here, never mind to have shown it off so blatantly.”

  “But why is it so dangerous?” Tobin asked. “I mean, it’s just a little ring.”

  “My boy,” Alberad said. “This ring is no mere trinket. It has passed through many hands, from one century to the next. It was here before the founding of this country, and if we’re very lucky, will reside long beyond its demise.”

  I stared at him for a long moment, but nothing in his voice or posture seemed to suggest he was joking. Evidently, he must have read the skepticism on my face, because he sighed and placed the ring back atop the anvil. “Clearly you would prefer I start at the beginning.”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Very well. The facts. This ring was forged in the year 1642, alongside eight of its brothers and sisters.”

  “Wait,” Tobin said, “You’re telling me that there are nine of these rings?”

  “Exactly right.”

  “Why were they forged?” I asked.

  “Ah, there is a fine question. They were given as gifts during the very first commencement in English America, taking place within the prestigious Harvard University. Nine rings, forged for those who would be statesmen, philosophers, and lawyers. Men and women who would shape the future, and who would be beholden to an even greater responsibility. To ensure the safety of the New England Commonwealth.”

  “Ensure its safety from what?”

  Alberad frowned. “That is a long story, and not one to be told lightly. Knowledge is power, but it can also be dangerous. I fear it is not my place to tell it. What I will say is that you have made a very grave mistake, both in carrying the ring, and in bringing it here. If you seek my advice, I urge you to return the ring to whence it came. To the one entrusted with its care, before it is too late.”

  Tobin and I shared a look before I glanced back. “That might not be possible. The ring’s owner has gone silent. We’re not sure where he is.”

  “In that case, you must flee. Get as far away from New England as possible. Across the ocean even.” He set down his pliers and wrung his hands, his gaze turning inward. “I have a few contacts, mayhap they can keep the two of you hidden until the appointed time. I regret I do not know the exact date, but perhaps, if given time, I can find out.”

  “Whoa there,” I said. “No one is fleeing anywhere.”

  Alberad blinked. “You must. Whatever your reasons for wanting to stay, friends or family, I assure you it pales in comparison to the ring’s importance.”

  “So you say, but I haven’t heard anything to convince me of that as yet. Besides which, I’m in the middle of an investigation. We’re not the only ones who want these rings.”

  Alberad’s eyes snapped open. “There are others who know the ring has come out of hiding?”

  “So it seems,” I said. “They’re running around the city dressed as wraiths, armed with medieval swords.”

  “Oh, dear,” Alberad said. “This is horrible news. Worse than I thought.” He turned and used his pliers to lift the ring from the table, handing it back to Tobin, who slid it onto the chain and over his neck.

  “You must go quickly. Take the ring and flee. Drive as far as you can, and don’t stop no matter what you might see or hear. I’ll tend to matters here and be in touch.” He drew in a sudden breath and exhaled. “I do not say this to either of you lightly. You must keep the ring safe at all costs. There is no greater purpose you will ever undertake. Do you understand?”

  “Uh, well—”

  “Yes,” Tobin said, cutting me off. I glanced over and was surprised to see the solemn gravity in his expression. “I understand. You’ve my word, I’ll protect the ring so long as I am able.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room that lasted several seconds until I cleared my throat. “Inspiring as that may be, I still have a few questions.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Alberad said. “But you must go, quickly, before they find you.”

  “Before who finds us?”

  “Any who might seek the ring. Any who knows of its existence. I know this is difficult for you to understand. I don’t blame you. For now, simply consider the ring as a sacred key able to unlock a force beyond anything you can imagine. The power to destroy the entire city is literally within your hands. Guard it as you would your most sacred treasure and bear no risk to it. It is precious beyond your understanding. Now, go, quickly, before—”

  The lights cut off, casting us into darkness a split second before a scream ripped through the store. It was an animalistic, piercing cry unlike anything I’d ever heard before.

  “Oh, no,” Alberad said, his voice quavering. “It’s too late. They’re here.”

  Flight to the Charles. Thursday, August 6th 1305hrs.

  People do funny things when you cast them into the darkness.

  First thing that happens is that the nervous system starts pumping, flooding our bodies with a cocktail of hormones refined over thousands of years for one single purpose.

  To make sure you survive.

  Unfortunately, our bodies exist in a delicate balance, and it doesn’t take much to short-circuit our hard wiring.

  That’s where training comes in.

  It’s impossible to truly simulate a deadly scenario, but if you’re lucky you can find little things, brief moments amidst the fear and chaos that your brain can recognize. Moments that allow you to exhale and remind yourself, “Hey, it’s okay. We’ve been here before.”

  I started with the basics. Was I still alive?

  Yep.

  Injured?

  Not that I was aware of. At least, not yet at any rate.

  Was I armed and could I see?

  No on both counts, but each was quickly remedied a moment later when I drew my gun from its holster.

  I’d been cast into the dark enough that I had learned the value in always having a flashlight close at hand. In this case, it was attached to the under barrel of my pistol. I drew my gun and activated the small cylinder.

  A golden beam shot from the flashlight’s face, cutting through the darkness and revealing the wraith standing not five feet to my left.

  The sudden appearance of the black robed figure kneeling in a crouch with its long sword startled me, but the piercing, banshee scream that erupted from its mouth sent every nerve ending in my body ringing.

  Remember what I said about people being easy to short-circuit?

  I squeezed the trigger of my pistol, but the recoil caused the flashlight to jerk, and I couldn’t be sure if I shot the wraith or merely blasted a hole in the display counter to its left. The sound of glass hitting the floor told me it was most likely the latter, so I fired twice more for good measure, shooting into the wraith’s fleeing form as he leaped clear of my light.

  Tobin’s scream caught my attention, and I spun, bringing my flashlight around just in time to see the second wraith rise up in front of him. The dark specter left his sword sheathed and seized hold of Tobin’s throat with one gauntleted hand, lifting him into the air and holding him suspended half a foot off the floor. A low, choking sound escaped Tobin’s lips, and he beat his fists against the wraith’s arms, but the shadowy specter paid him no mind. It grabbed for the front of his shirt and ripped the uniform’s collar away, revealing the ring hanging from his neck.

  “Hey!” I screamed as I brought my pistol around. “Get off my gardener!”

  The wraith’s head snapped around, its hooded face centering on me a split second before I pulled the trigger. The first shot blasted him in the chest. The next two sent it stumbling away into the darkness.

  Tobin’s feet hit the ground, and he would have fallen backward, but Alberad caught him before he could topple, the older man steadying him as he turned to me. “This way!”

  He motioned for me to follow as they took off toward the back of the shop, turning down a narrow hallway with a lone door at its end. I followed at a sideways skip, Private Vasques style, and covered our retreat. By my count, I’d fired six or seven times, it was difficult to remember exactly. Standard magazine count meant I still had a few shots left, but experience told me it was better not to risk running dry if I needed it. I pressed the release button on my pistol and ripped the half-spent magazine free, letting it drop to the floor before replacing it with a spare from my belt.

  No sooner had the magazine clicked into place then the hairs along the back of my neck rose up, casting their silent warning. I snapped my gun up to illuminate two wraiths moving through the store, but they dropped away as soon as my light touched them, vanishing into the shadows behind the counters and disappearing from view. A cold sensation seized my chest, causing the surrounding muscles to tighten, and my legs suddenly felt thick, as if I were moving through jelly. It was a feeling I knew well.