“But it’s a weapon. It’s designed to cause harm or even kill. What makes you think he would have wanted to add a way to reverse the effects?”

“Two reasons,” North said. “The first is that building in a safety feature fits with his style of magic and engineering. He had to know there was a possibility the weapon might fall into the wrong hands.”

“And the second reason?”

“I’m not sure the gun is actually a weapon.”

Sierra looked at him, startled. “What else could it be?”

“I don’t know. Yet. But from what I have been able to learn about my grandfather, he was never interested in creating weapons.”

“Well, we know one thing for sure. Delbridge Loring now has a crystal tuned to Crocker Rancourt’s vibe. If he does have access to all the prototype weapons that disappeared from that lab at Fogg Lake, he’s going to try to use the crystal to tune them.”

“Loring got what he demanded—the crystal that was sealed inside the Fogg Lake lab. And yes, that crystal was originally tuned to Rancourt’s signature. But it doesn’t take much to tweak the tuning of a crystal that is designed to resonate with an individual’s aura. The smallest adjustment, done with finesse and skill by someone who knows a lot about engineering and magic, can render it useless.”

Sierra smiled. “You’re saying your grandfather tweaked Rancourt’s crystal?”

“Griffin Chastain was a master of the subtle magic arts. If I’m right, Loring won’t discover that the crystal is useless until he tries to use it to tune a weapon.”

“And when he does?”

“The crystal will shatter. In the process it will probably do some serious damage to the aura of whoever is in physical contact with it at the time.”

“In other words, Griffin Chastain made certain that Crocker Rancourt and his descendants would never be able to use those weapons. Your grandfather may have saved a lot of lives. He may even have saved the country. The Rancourts were powerful but their history with the Foundation is nothing compared to what would have happened if they had been able to access true paranormal weapons.”

Sierra sat back in the seat and watched the city streets. It was late. There was very little traffic. Next stop was the airport, where the Foundation jet was waiting. In a few minutes she would be waving goodbye to North, maybe for good.

“Hard to believe it’s over,” she said. “It seems like we’ve been on the move ever since you landed in Seattle.”

Except for those few thrilling hours in the basement of the Fogg Lake library, she thought. She would treasure that time—that night—for the rest of her life.

“It’s not over until I find out if I can unfreeze the paralyzed bands of my father’s aura with that crystal gun,” North said.

“Of course. Promise me you’ll let me know as soon as you find out if the gun works on your dad.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be one of the first to know.”