If I didn’t know better, and I’m not entirely sure that I do, I’d think this was a trap of some sort. But trap or not I need to get in there. I punch the code into the keypad next to the loading dock, and it rolls up on tracks. A light goes on automatically. In for a penny and all that.

Inside is no worse than the outside. No smells of dust or age, no stains on the floor, just a big empty room with a door at the far end. There’s no keypad here, but the door won’t budge. I consider an unlocking spell, but stop. I may not be able to feel them, but there have to be wards against that sort of thing. The last thing I want to do is try to break in and end up a smoking smear on the floor.

Instead I try the unit key. As the door opens, the loading dock door lowers. When it closes I feel a flood of magic that wasn’t there a moment ago. The lights past the doorway turn on. And I can’t believe what I’m seeing. There are no storage units here. There is only one, and it is the entire building.

There are shelves, crates, safes, desks. Every horizontal surface holds labeled knick-knacks and tchotchkes that radiate magic the way uranium throws off neutrons. Spiral staircases at each corner lead to a second-story catwalk that hugs the walls and holds nothing but bookshelves.

It’s one part warehouse, one part magical antique store. Raiders of the Lost Ark and Willy Wonka all rolled into one. The magic coming off all of these items is unimaginable. There must be some really heavy-duty wards on this place to hide it from the outside.

I wander between narrow halls made from the gaps between crates, taking care not to touch any of the artifacts left out in the open. Who knows what they’ll do if I handle them wrong? The artifacts have paper tags with dates written on them, but no descriptions. I have no idea if they’re in the ledger or not. I think the items without tags—pens, letter openers, stray books left on desks—are normal.

Each crate has a date stenciled on it, and they go backward the further into the room I go. The object I’m looking for is dated June 13th, 1947. I find the crate showing the date along with several others stenciled on the side, each item inside too small to warrant an entire crate on its own.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually I find an unlabeled letter opener that looks reasonably safe and sturdy enough to pry the top of the crate open. It snaps halfway through, but by then I’ve got the top wedged open enough to get my hands under it and shove.