“Sierra.” Ambrose rose from behind a glass-and-steel desk. He was dressed, as usual, in a black pullover and black trousers and a black linen jacket. He nodded at North. “Welcome to the Vault, Chastain. Always a pleasure doing business with the Foundation.”

“Just to be clear, this is a personal matter for me,” North said.

“I understand.” Ambrose came out from behind the desk. “I never did believe those stories about your grandfather, by the way. Always figured Rancourt got to him.”

“You were right,” North said. “Sierra and I found Griffin Chastain’s body yesterday. He was shot twice at close range and left in a lab at the Fogg Lake facility.”

Ambrose nodded. “I’m sorry your family didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing Crocker Rancourt brought to justice. Heard he died of a heart attack years ago.”

“All I care about at the moment is the weapon that was used on my father,” North said. “Did you get it?”

“I got a crystal artifact shaped rather like a flashlight, just as you described. No question but that it’s hot, and the heat definitely has the vibe of vintage lab energy. I hope it’s what you need.”

“Let’s see it,” North said.

“Follow me,” Ambrose said. “Your artifact is in my private vault.”

He crossed the room and pressed a concealed lever. A section of wooden paneling slid aside, revealing a steel door. A security panel glowed a faint yellow. Sierra sensed paranormal heat in the mechanism.

North smiled for the first time, a faint, appreciative smile. “Crystal tech?”

“In my spare time I fancy myself something of an inventor,” Jones said. “I specialize in security technology. This lock responds only to my paranormal signature.”

“I’ve got a similar setup at home,” North said. “My grandfather installed it.”

“According to the legends, Griffin Chastain was a brilliant engineer.”

When Ambrose touched the panel the color changed from a pale yellow to bright green. There was a series of muffled clicks before the thick steel door opened.

Heavy currents of energy wafted out of the vault. Sierra’s senses rose in response. Artifacts of all kinds lined the shelves. Many of them glittered and glowed with the unmistakable radiance of the paranormal.

“This is an amazing collection,” North said.

“Thank you,” Ambrose said. “Not all of these items belong to me. In addition to my other services, I offer to store and secure artifacts that are especially valuable or dangerous until a go-between can put a buyer and a seller together.”

North studied the array of relics. “Not just lost lab artifacts. Some of these relics are very old.”

“Humans have been messing around with the paranormal since they discovered fire,” Ambrose said. “My own family has a long history linked to the study of psychic phenomena.”

Sierra remembered the old book North had pulled off a shelf in the Fogg Lake library.

“Are you by any chance talking about the Arcane Society?” she asked.

For the first time since she had met him, Ambrose Jones appeared to have been taken by surprise.