“There’s a lot of vague guessing going on.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Probably the best thing for me to do would be to see if I can connect the key to what it opens.”
Unsure if my magic would work while holding the key and the compact, I handed the tiny mirror to Ben. Curling my fingers around the metal item, I attempted to spellcast one more time.
“Ol’ Tipper was a crafty man, so help me better understand. Find the object where ‘ere it be and open it with this key. With his permission, he cannot hide the many secrets from inside.”
The golden thread stretched out from me and zoomed past the two men. No longer struggling to maintain it, I shooed everyone out of the bathroom and followed its path downstairs and through the informal living room. The strong connection tugged at me through a closed wooden door. Behind it lay Tipper’s private study.
Out of all the rooms in the house, the study had been the one place I didn’t feel comfortable in. Not because it housed anything disturbing, but because it felt like an extension of Tipper himself—a little chaotic, a whole lot discombobulated, and meaningful to only him.
With my free hand, I raised it in front of the lock. “Open says me.” Tipper and I used to giggle at his joke when he let me in when I would visit as a child.
Two walls contained built-in bookshelves, unusual for an old farmhouse. Cabinets lined the bottom half underneath the stacks of unorganized tomes and scrolls. In the middle of the room sat the behemoth of a desk with a rolling chair pushed up underneath it. My great-uncle used to let me play in the cavern underneath the massive desk while he shuffled through papers and spoke to himself.
Juniper’s cleaning team had bundled a lot of stray papers together and stacked them up against the far wall. It could take years to go through everything. I’d thought it better to lock it all away and ignore it.
“I can’t see anything,” Mason’s voice rang out from the small mirror.
Dash flipped on the light switch. “Whoa, that’s a lot.”
The thread of connection glowed between me and the painting hanging on the wall behind the desk. Tipper had commissioned an artist to capture the Founders’ Tree in all her glory. It struck me as odd when I was a little girl that the painting didn’t hold a place of honor over one of the mantles where others could see it.
A specific memory popped up, and I heard Tipper speaking to me. “Remember, Charli Bird, no matter how bad things get, the tree will always be there for you. Come and seek it out when you need help.”
“I think that painting is significant,” I said to the others. “Whatever we’re looking for, it has something to do with it.”
“Or maybe the tree itself?” Ben questioned, handing the compact back to me.
Mason frowned. “Maybe check to see if there’s something behind it.”
Dash placed a hand on my arm and nudged me out of his way. “I’m on it.”
He rolled the chair from under the desk and pressed it against the back wall. Being careful not to tip it over, the shifter stepped up on it, holding his arms out to the side to keep his balance. Dash took the painting off its hook and turned it over.
“Nothing significant on the back.” He passed the artwork off to Ben who examined it for a second time.
I pointed at the wall. “No, but I’m pretty sure there’s a safe there.”
Dash inspected the spot I indicated. “I don’t see anything, and I’ve got shifter eyesight.”
“It’s there,” I reassured him. “Here, switch places with me.” Setting the compact down on the desk and aiming it as best I could in the right direction, I waited for Dash to jump down from the chair before climbing up on it. It tipped under my weight, and I lost my balance.
“Whoa there,” Dash called out, placing two hands on my behind to keep me from falling.
“Watch yourself,” Mason yelled out.
Unwilling to find out if he was speaking to me or Dash, I gripped the key in my left hand and waved my right over the surface of the wall. Slight tingles crawled over my skin as I detected the spell.
“I think all of us underestimated Uncle Tipper,” I exhaled in awe. “If his magic is still active even all this time after his death, then his spellcasting abilities were stronger than anyone’s in town.”
I passed my fingertips over the surface until I felt a hole. “There. Gotcha.” Switching the key into my right hand, I palpated for the spot. “Here goes.”
It took a couple of tries for the key to fit, but as soon as I pushed it into place, the spell broke.
“Oh, you mean that safe,” Dash teased.
With great care, I turned the key until it clicked and the door popped open a little bit. Finding the edge with my fingers, I pulled on it. The hinges creaked as I got my first look inside.
“There’s a bunch of stuff in here.” I pulled out a few scrolls and handed them to Ben. “See if these are anything important.”
When I turned to pull out more from the safe, I jerked my body a little too far to the left and the chair wobbled underneath me. “Frosted fairy—”
“I gotcha.” Dash rushed to my aid and caught me in his strong arms, holding me up as if I weighed nothing. The shifter eased me onto the floor after Mason cleared his throat. “Let me empty the contents.”
It took us a few minutes to spread out whatever my great-uncle had hidden inside. I picked up the tiny mirror
