"Goodnight." Hutch watched her go, then turned to Aleksi. "I'm sorry I did that. I needed an excuse and I panicked."
"That's all right." It wasn't, but Aleksi couldn't call him out on it.
"No, it's really not." Hutch shut down the tablet and handed her the flash drive. "You've really dug up something interesting, Aleksi. If you want to pursue this, we will, but if it gets to be too much for you, you have to promise me to let me know."
"I will," she said, having no intention of doing so. "I promise."
Persephone stared out the window as the streetlights flashed past in flurries of snow. New Year's Eve had not ended as she'd hoped; she hadn't seen Hutch in almost a year, and she'd hoped to lure him to bed for old times' sake. There had been a lot of good times between them, and even better times with him between the sheets. Now he was hanging out with young nerdy graduate students, probably seducing a new one every week.
Let it go, Persephone… She closed her eyes and sighed. She'd agreed to the divorce, though it had been more of an effort to keep him isolated from her other life than any lack of interest in him.
My other life… The images she'd glimpsed on the computer swam behind her eyes. Life from another age. Watch for anything unusual, anything unexplained. Not all of mythology is myth…
She'd been eighteen, but her great-grandmother's words came to her like she'd heard them yesterday. And she'd spent her life devoted to the family calling, watching for unexplained mysteries. What better way to look into mysteries of ancient life than by marrying a paleontologist? It had seemed simple, elegant even, but had become too complicated. Hutch found her curiosity of cryptozoology strange and asked too many questions. But this. This could be something important.
The rented limo pulled up to the gate and the privacy window lowered. She handed the driver her key card, and he swiped it and handed it back. The wrought iron barrier rolled open and he drove through, closed circuit cameras following their progress. He parked near the foyer and hurried around to hold the door and an umbrella for her, though it really wasn't snowing that hard.
She thanked him for the escort, pressed the intercom and said, "I'm home." The door clicked open, and she stepped inside. The hall light came on and the door closed and locked behind her. The house staff were either in bed or out ringing in the New Year, but that was fine with Persephone. She didn't need a butler tonight.
She took off her coat and checked the monitor beside the front door just to make sure the limo left through the gate. It did. She flipped through the screens from one camera to another but didn't see a soul. The security system was completely automated, of course. The fewer people who knew her family's secrets, the better.
Persephone flung the ermine coat in the general direction of the closet and hurried to the stairs down to the cellar. Motion sensor lights flicked on as she descended, teetering a bit on the steps. Champagne and high heels didn't mix. She click-clacked through the maze of draped shapes—decorations, furnishings, and shelves of knickknacks out of season—to the wine cellar door. Another card swipe and a key code popped the lock, and she stepped inside the cool room, closing the door behind her. Past the spotless racks of bottles, she finally reached her goal, a nondescript door with another keypad and a print scanner. She punched in the code and pressed her thumb to the pad. The light flashed green, and the door lock clicked.
She turned the handle and stepped into the Sanctum.
Down a sterile hall, she thumbed open another door. Dark paneling, subdued lighting, soft carpets of fine Oriental silk, and books defined the room's décor. A modern adjustable bed and a lift system were the only overt hints that this was more than just a secret library or den. Several large flat screens dominated the wall opposite the bed, now displaying a mosaic of silent star scape. Persephone stepped softly to the side of the bed.
The occupant looked barely human.
Skeletally thin and wizened beyond imagining, her great-grandmother's lips were as thin as a razor, her skin the texture of parchment, creased with lines so deep that they had to be meticulously cleaned to stave off infections. Her eyes, sunken in their sockets, were closed in sleep, breathing barely perceptible. An oxygen cannula lay under nostrils that flared with every shallow intake of precious air. Her hands lay folded over a blanket, knuckles like walnuts, nails yellowed with untold years.
Persephone leaned down to whisper, "Gi-gi."
Her eyes opened, and the face became even less human, irises of bright lavender, almost luminous in the dim light. Those eyes swiveled to look at her, constricting to focus, and she blinked once. The coloration wasn't normal, of course; a byproduct of one of the family's earliest discoveries, the one that had earned them the millions that had blossomed into an international multi-billion-dollar empire. All thanks to some long-dead African witchdoctor… One day, Persephone would be faced with the choice of becoming something not quite human in exchange for the staggering intelligence her great-grandmother possessed. She hadn't yet decided whether to take it or die human.
The razor-slit mouth twitched open to whisper, barely audible over the quiet whir of the oxygen generator. "Persephone." The voice reminded her of the rustle of dried corn husks in autumn.
"Yes, Gi-gi." She reached out to lay a hand on her ancestor's. The wizened skin felt like the touch of the sun, warm, dry, alive. "I may have found something important."
She blinked again, her hand twitching under Persephone's. "Tell me."
"My…former husband has found the remains of a strange creature in the repository at the Museum of Comparative Zoology. It was encased in plaster, mislabeled, and undiscovered until recently. A book was found from a Russian paleontologist describing the find. The illustrations were nothing I've ever seen before."
The wizened hand moved under hers, the knobby fingers unlacing. "Show me."
Persephone tensed, then nodded. "Yes, ma'am." She lifted the hand, warm and soft, yet as fragile as the shell of an egg, and bent down to press the palm to the side of her head.
Her great-grandmother drew a breath, lips parted, and those luminous eyes closed. A sharp headache blossomed between Persephone's eyes as she recalled the images she'd seen on the computer, the artful drawings and Cyrillic writing. Her memories became both of theirs.
"Yes…" Those eyes opened again, and Persephone lowered the hand back. "Interesting. You must pursue this. Bring me the book."
Persephone massaged her temples to score away the pain. "I can't, but I may be able to bring you a copy."
One razor lip curled from yellowed teeth. "Digital?"
"Yes." She knew her great grandmother didn't care for digital copies, but even getting that would be difficult. She might have to sleep with Hutch to get it. A dirty job, but someone has to do it. Memories tingled through her, and her lips curved into a smile. "To get it, I will need to be persuasive."
"Then be persuasive." The hand lifted again and the fingers touched a control pad in the side of the bed. She tapped out a code, and a drawer opened in a bookshelf. Inside, a velvet-lined case with three tiny vials of clear liquid. "Use it sparingly, and only at need."
"Thank you, Gi-gi." Persephone lowered her hand and patted it there, bending to kiss his wizened brow. "Rest now. I'll take care of everything." She took one of the vials from the drawer and left the Sanctum.
7
Derrick was starting to grow impatient, and he knew from experience that impatience led to recklessness, and often dire mistakes. Control… He girded his impulsiveness and climbed the stairs to Neilson's office. Patience… He'd been hasty before, and it had cost him. One simple mistake… He rapped on the door and opened it.
"Yes?" The old man looked up from his computer screen. "Oh, Derrick. Yes. Welcome back. Did you have a good holiday?"
"Yes, I did." Not a lie, exactly. It had been fun slumming through Boston's clubs on New Year's Eve, and the two drunk sluts he'd brought home had been entertaining. Now it was back to work, buttering up this old fuck to get into the graduat
e program. "I brought those files you asked for. The new acquisitions from Mexico." He held up a jump drive. "With the room we've got in the repository—"
"Oh, yes, about that." Dr. Neilson tapped his computer screen. "You'll never believe this, but one of those samples we gave to Dr. Hutchinson wasn't even the right one."
"Not the right one?" He'd loaded those samples himself and checked the papers. "What do you mean?"
Neilson glanced up at his tone then made a face. "Oh, don't worry, Derrick. Not your fault. It was miss-labeled from the start. Some Russian digger forged the documentation, and it was never even X-rayed. We had no way to know. Ha! Aleksi must be dancing a jig or a…oh whatever those Russian dancers dance. She found a journal encased in the largest of the four samples, and the illustrations are remarkable." He turned his monitor for Derrick to see, flipping through the pages of pencil sketches and Cyrillic writing.
"That's…" He caught a glimpse of one illustration, a recurved tooth. "What is that?"
"That's just it. We don't know." Neilson took the drive from Derrick and transferred the files to his computer. "Aleksi's translating the journal, but it'll take some time. They want money to work it up, but I can't see any way to give it to them. It's a shame, really. If we had the money, her dissertation project would be in the bag. We'll probably have to take the sample back and wait for funding."
"That is a shame." Money… That, at least, he had. Time to pony up again, daddy… This might be exactly what he'd been looking for. If it was returned to the repository, he could pimp his father for a grant to work up the sample, and he'd have an instant dissertation project.
Derrick accepted the drive from his boss and turned to leave, resolving to return to the curator's office later. He'd watched Neilson log on enough times to crack his password. Once he had the file, even if the sample didn't come back to the repository, he'd find out a way to make it his baby. Maybe he could seduce that nerdy chick into doing all the work for him. He might have to fuck her to get there, but he'd make the sacrifice. PhD, here I come…
Waiting…
Aleksi worked on the Ursus samples by day and translated the journal in the evenings, while the newly discovered mystery sat on the lab bench untouched. She and Hutch had spent New Year's Day crafting the plea to Quinton. The curator had responded with shock that such a blunder had taken place on his watch and promised to pitch their plea for funding to the MCZ board of directors, but that was all he could do.
The ensuing silence was deafening.
Every morning she came into the lab and glared at the block of plaster, yearning to delve its secrets. Then she would spend the day working on the bone bed samples, her mind dancing with images of the sketches in the journal. Bob Tomlin came by several times to take samples, and was busy with the laborious process of decontamination, extraction, cloning, and amplification of the fragmented DNA. It would be weeks before they had any meaningful data.
"Aleksi!"
She nearly dropped the high-speed rotary tool she was using, and turned to find Hutch and Bob standing at the opening to the dust barrier.
"Got a minute?" Hutch waved a single sheet of paper.
Her stomach did a flip. By their strained smiles, it wasn't good news. "Sure." She removed her dust mask, ear protection, and goggles. "What's that?"
"Permission." Hutch handed over the sheet of paper, a printout of the email from Quinton outlining the board's decision. "But they won't pay for it."
"Damn!" She scanned the document. "But we only need twelve thousand dollars! They spend more on paper towels in a year!"
"Come on, Aleksi. It could be worse. They could have insisted we send it back." Bob tried to smile but failed.
"They might as well have said no." Aleksi handed back the paper, her frustration burning through her usual reticence. "Where are we going to get twelve thousand dollars? It'll take months to get a grant, and we don't have the time!"
"About that." Hutch crumpled the paper and flung it at the nearest recycling bin. "I may have an idea, but it's…not somewhere I really wanted to go."
Aleksi and Bob traded a glance and a shrug.
"Don't keep us in suspense, Hutch. You know someone with that kind of money?" Bob grinned hopefully.
"Yeah. I used to be married to her." He fished his phone from his pocket.
"Persephone?" Aleksi bit her lip at her outburst, remembering the woman at the New Year's Eve party.
"Yep." Hutch tapped his phone and brought it to his ear.
Aleksi traded another questioning look with Bob, but he had never met Hutch's ex-wife.
"Persephone! Hi!" Hutch turned away and started to pace the lab floor. "Well, I thought I'd make a peace offering to make up for my bad behavior. How about lunch?"
Pause.
"No, not McDonalds. Someplace nice. You pick." He looked at them and raised his eyebrows. "Dinner? I don't know, Persephone. I know your taste, and the school doesn't pay me that much."
Another pause, and a look of surprise widened his eyes.
"All right then, if you insist. You wouldn't mind if I brought two of my students along, would you?"
Aleksi opened her mouth to protest, but Bob touched her arm and put a finger to his lips. She bit her lip and jammed her hands into her pockets to clench her fists. Dinner with Persephone? Is he joking?
"I've got a little proposal that I think you might be interested in. Right up your alley. Cryptozoology and a mystery novel all wrapped into a tale of the Russian Revolution." Hutch stopped to listen then nodded. "I promise, not too much shop talk."
More listening and Aleksi gritted her teeth.
"All right, then. Seven sounds perfect. We'll be there." He ended the call and grinned. "We're having dinner at the Chart House tonight."
"Hutch, I—"
Bob touched her arm again. "You really think she'll hand you twelve grand?"
"Persephone spends more than that on a weekend trip to New York." He slipped the phone into his pocket, his grin unbridled. "She's a cryptozoology nut behind the glitz and glamour, and I think we can pitch it to her the right way. I'll tell her she can name it if it's a new species."
Bob made a face. "Hutch, the chances of it being a new species are about one percent of zero."
"I know that, but she doesn't."
Aleksi just stared at him. Hutch was turning out to be secretly manipulative, a quality she knew all too well from her previous advisor. "Hutch, I really don't want to go to dinner. I'd only embarrass you."
"No, you won't, and this is your dissertation, Aleksi." He shrugged. "Think of this as a preparation for your oral exams. If you can't face down Persephone Terris, you'll never be able to confront your dissertation committee."
"But…"
"It's just dinner, Aleksi, not the Inquisition." Bob gave her a nudge. "It's not like the woman's a demon from hell or anything!"
"Well, she can resemble a succubus on certain occasions, but she's not that bad." Hutch grinned. "Wear something nice, both of you. I'll pick you up about six thirty."
"Right." Bob nudged Aleksi again. "A night on the town! What a deal!"
"Right." Aleksi bit her lip as they left and turned back to her work. She put her goggles, earmuffs, and mask back on and picked up the rotary tool, but her hands were shaking too badly to work. The prospect of dinner with Hutch and his succubus ex-wife had her stomach in knots.
8
Persephone Terris turned toward them as Aleksi and Bob followed Hutch into Chart House bar. A martini glistened in her manicured fingers, her dress of deep red complimenting her figure and a necklace of pearls and garnets perfectly. Her lips matched the hue of her dress to a tee, and her hair looked right out of a beauty salon. Aleksi tugged her simple blazer straight and tried not to put her hands in her pockets.
"Hutch!" Persephone spread her arms as if to embrace him, then just touched his shoulder with her free hand and kissed his cheek, though her lips never actually touched. "You look wonderful! Oh, and you've brought your
little friends!"
"Hello, Persephone." Hutch stepped aside and gestured to Aleksi and Bob. "You met Aleksi Rychenkna on New Year's Eve, and this is Bob Tomlin, my first-year student."
"Delightful to meet you both." Persephone extended a hand and gave them each a stiff-armed, fingertip greeting. She looked Bob up and down as if she might take a bite. "You're both so young! Right from college to graduate school?" She inspected Aleksi, too, her gaze lingering on the cashmere sweater she'd borrowed from Julie.
"Yes." Aleksi recovered her hand and clenching it tight. "I went to NYU."
"Aleksi's a New Yorker," Hutch offered.
She wasn't about to correct him by saying she was actually from Brooklyn.
"Really?" Persephone beamed a ten-thousand-dollar smile and touched her arm. "Dear, we simply must talk!" She breezed past them to the maître d's desk, martini still in hand. "And you, Robert?"
"Yes. Straight from University of Houston to Harvard."
"A Texan and a New Yorker?" She laughed musically. "We may start another civil war."
"They're on the same side this time." Hutch followed the hostess to their table overlooking the white sheen of the frozen Boston Harbor.
They sat with the two men facing each other with Hutch beside his ex, which meant Aleksi was staring right across at Persephone. She swallowed and clenched her hands under the table.
"And I'm not from Texas, I just went to school there." Bob took his seat, looking mildly terrified. "I'm from Utah."
"Well, I hope you took away the best from both states." Persephone raised a hand, and a waiter materialized as if by magic. She finished her martini and handed him the glass.
"The best from both?" Bob asked.
"Why yes. Men from Utah have the reputation of satisfying multiple wives, and everything is supposedly bigger in Texas, right?" Her teeth gleamed.
Bob just stared at her with an open mouth.
Dragon Dreams Page 7
