“Everyone get back!” he shouts. Then to her. “Drop and roll!”
She’s batting the flames. They’re small, but they won’t stay extinguished.
“Don’t touch her,” I say. “It’s a misanthrope’s malice. You’ll catch it if you touch her.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Lesley-Ann snaps. “Someone help me. You won’t catch it.”
“Stop lying,” I say. “That’s only making it—”
Her mouth opens, as if to snap at me again. Instead, her eyes bug, and her throat starts to spasm. Someone leaps in to help her as she begins to choke, and I want to warn them back, but she’s choking. She needs help.
That’s when I remember the second part of the curse.
Open your mouth,
See what transpires.
Lesley-Ann doubles over and retches, and something tumbles out of her mouth. Things tumble out of her mouth. Tiny, wriggling things.
A man yelps. A woman screams. She’s spewed up the tiny things, and they’re on the floor, writhing—
Snakes. It’s baby snakes.
Connolly shoves me with both hands, propelling me across the room. A man shrieks, and I glance back to see his trousers aflame. It’s the guy who tried to help Lesley-Ann. Then another man bellows. He’s waving an arm, snakes hanging from his fingers, tiny fangs sunk in.
“Are they poisonous?” someone screeches. “Tell me they aren’t poisonous.”
I skid to a halt. Connolly tries to push me onward, but I shrug him off and run back, ignoring his shouts. When I’m close enough to see a snake in the dim lighting, I can make out the hourglass-shaped marks on its back and the yellow tip on its tail.
“Copperheads,” I shout. “They’re baby copperheads.”
Someone screams. “Poison! They’re poisonous!”
“No!” I shout. “Well, yes, they’re venomous, but they won’t kill you. These are babies.”
“Which makes them even more dangerous,” someone says.
“No, that’s a myth. Well, yes, they haven’t learned venom control yet but—”
Hands grab me. I catch a flash of red-gold hair and turn to shove Connolly off again, but it’s Marius, with Connolly right beside him.
“I need to—” I begin.
Marius’s chuckle cuts me off. “I’m sure everyone appreciates the herpetology lesson, Kennedy, but how about we get you two out of here now that we’ve established no one is going to die in horrible agony.”
“They still need medical attention,” I say. “I should—”
“No,” both Marius and Connolly say in unison.
“You should not,” Marius says as he strong-arms me toward the back door.
“Agreed,” Connolly says. “You tried to warn Lesley-Ann. You tried to warn everyone.”
“But the curse—”
“If I’m correct about malice hexes, it will run its course quickly and be done. Uncursing it wouldn’t significantly help the situation, yes?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“If the situation isn’t lethal and the curse will unweave itself, then we need to get out of here. They’re going to blame us.”
“What?” I squawk. “We’re the ones who warned them. They can’t blame us.”
“Can,” Marius says. “Will. That’s a curse, and you’re a curse weaver.”
“But—”
I wrench from his grip. Both men grab for me, but I duck their hands and twist to look back at the chaos. Snakes writhe over the floor. Fire sparks everywhere. Screams fill the air as people bang on the locked main door.
I want to rush back in and do something. Connolly and Marius are right, though. There’s nothing I can do except try to keep people calm, and that isn’t ever going to work. They’re panicked. That’s the real “curse” here. Not the snakes or the fire, but the panic they induce, the fear and terror of people trapped in a room with venomous snakes and flaring fire.
Connolly takes my arm. “You can’t help, Kennedy. They’ll be fine.”
Marius pushes me toward the back entrance. He shoves it open, and we stumble into the hall.
I turn to Marius. “Where’s Vanessa?”
“That’s what I’m about to find out. Are you guys okay?”
We say that we are, and he disappears back into the main room. We make it three running steps down the hall before two guards leap from a side room.
“Stop!” one says. “No one’s allowed to leave.”
“Screaming?” I say. “You do hear that, right? The screams of terror?”
He pauses, and I want to smack him. Then I realize I can barely hear the screams myself. They’re drifting through the open door, but that’s all. The room must be soundproofed for parties.
“Snakes,” I say. “There are snakes.”
The guard’s face screws up. “What?”
“So many snakes. Baby copperheads. There must have been a nest. Which is weird because copperheads aren’t native—”
Connolly’s elbow to my ribs suggests this may not be essential information. “There are snakes. Poisonous—”
“Venomous,” I correct, and then catch his look. “Sorry.” I look at the guards. “There are snakes. Also, fire.”
One guard frowns. The other shakes his head. “Look, Miss, maybe there’s a snake—one snake—but if there was a fire, we’d hear the alarm.”
“They’re tiny fires. Tiny snakes. Big chaos.” I wave toward the room. “You really need to do something about that.”
“Hey!” a voice bellows, echoing down the hall. “Where do you two think you’re going?”
We turn to see Hector, his huge form nearly filling the hall as he stomps toward us. One foot drags slightly, as if he’s been injured in the melee.
“There!” I say, pointing at Hector. “Talk to him. He’s in charge.”
I grab Connolly, and we take off down the hall, both the guards and Hector shouting after us.
“Those guards didn’t have guns, right?” Connolly says.
“It’s a museum.”
“Just checking.”
Ahead, a door marked Exit calls to us. As footfalls thunder behind us, we burst into a sprint. I make it there first. I hit the push bar, expecting to trigger an alarm. The door swings open . . . and smacks a guy in a tux.
“This is not an exit,” I hiss as I grab Connolly, dragging him behind me through yet another hall, this one crowded with partygoers. “False advertising.”
“You can sue them later.”
Apparently, we’ve looped back to the restroom hall, and people have ingested enough champagne to be lining up. Laughter and chatter sound to my left, so I run right. Ahead, another Exit sign blinks.
I’m halfway there when Connolly steers me into a side hall. Just at that moment, a voice says, “Did a young couple just come through here?”
Connolly nudges me along the short hall to another door marked Exit. I push this one open . . .
Darkness. Not the darkness of a parking lot, though. It’s an exhibit, dimly illuminated with floor lighting.
“Also not an emergency exit,” I whisper as we go through.
“More fodder for your lawsuit.”
“I’m not suing. I am sending a very strongly worded letter, as a long-term patron of this establishment. This is a clear safety violation.”
As I talk, he’s prodding me along. Then he stops, lets out a yelp and stumbles, staggering as he smacks at his trousers.
“Fire?” I say. “Did you catch—?”
Something slithers from his pant leg. I dive and grab the little guy, gripping him carefully.
“Lose something?” I say, holding it out to Connolly.
Connolly’s arms windmill as he flails away. That’s when I remember the “dream” from the night before. The one where he’d told me a secret. The one he claimed was my dream alone.
“You aren’t afraid of snakes, are you?” I say, eyes widening in mock innocence. I purse my lips. “Wait. Do I recall something about a ch
ildhood incident?”
When he doesn’t reply, I hold out the baby snake, and it hisses on cue, showing off its adorable tiny fangs. Connolly tries to retreat, only to smack into the wall.
“Answer the question, Connolly,” I say. “Or I swear, it goes back in your pants.”
“Yes,” he says quickly. “Yes, we were on a family trip to India, and I found a cobra in my bedroom.”
“Huh. Weird how I knew that.”
I hold out the snake again.
“We really don’t have time for this, Kennedy,” he says.
“Three words. Keep it simple. I was there.”
He hesitates. The snake hisses.
“I was there,” he says.
“And you lied.”
“I—”
“The lying liar lied.”
“Yes, but—”
“No time for explanations.” I tip the snake into a nearby vase. “Come on, lying liar. We’ve got about five seconds before—”
The door opens, light flooding the exhibit. We both drop. We crouch there, shoulder to shoulder, gazes trained toward the door, which is hidden behind an exhibit display.
The door stays open. Voices drift in.
“Someone said they went in here,” one says.
“Who? The guy who was so wasted he could barely stand?” Hector’s voice reverberates through the room, thick with scorn. “Failed the IQ test for the NYPD, didn’t you?”
The other man responds, his voice crackling with outrage. “I chose to be a security guard, sir.”
“Good call. Now, how about you take the word of the sober woman who said they went out the next door instead of the idiot who can’t hold his liquor.”
I exhale as the door closes, the men retreating. Then I settle in on the floor and whisper, “We’ll give it a few minutes and then take the other way out.”
Connolly doesn’t seem to answer, but when I squint over in the darkness, he’s shaking his head. “We need to move now.”
“Hector just saved our asses.”
Silence. Real silence now, heavy with words unsaid.
My cheeks heat. “He didn’t, did he? I’m being naive.”
“Not naive. Trusting. Which I find refreshing.”
I manage a weak smile. “Thank you. Right now, though, I need a little jaded paranoia.”
“That’s what you have me for. Now, the problem will be finding the actual exit.”
“This exhibit connects to the main hall and the temporary exhibition room. We should get to that, which will take us to the back hall. That definitely has an exit door.”
“Ah, right, you know your way around. I forgot that.”
“Easy to forget when I can’t find a damn exit. In my defense, I’ve never tried leaving through an emergency door. That would be wrong. Sneaking into a locked exhibit? Acceptable. Setting off alarms? No.”
A soft chuckle. “All right, then. Let’s proceed to the temporary exhibition room. You can lead.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
We make our way through the L-shaped pottery exhibit. We’re turning the corner into the base of that L, which ends in two doors—one leading back into the main area and the other to the temporary exhibit. From the sounds of it, the snakes and fire haven’t reached the general party, but I still suspect no one is going to let us walk out. After all, we might have the real necklace.
I want to say that’s fine. We don’t have it, so let security frisk us and search my bag. Again, though, that’s me being naive, and this time I recognize it before I say anything. If this were a regular event with a regular stolen necklace, I’d trust the guards to check us and set us free. But there are other forces at work here. Magical forces plus criminal ones.
Someone switched out the necklace, and Connolly and I make excellent scapegoats. Sure, we’re the ones who spotted the forgery, but that could be part of the setup. I’ve read enough crime novels to see that coming a mile away.
Wait! This is the wrong necklace. Now, in the ensuing confusion, I will sneak out with the real one, mwah-ha-ha!
We’ve barely stepped around the corner when the door behind us creaks open. We both drop to the floor. The door opens, light flooding in, and then it shuts, and flashlights click on.
“They’re in here,” Hector whispers. “Now move fast before those idiot guards figure it out.”
His lowered voice suggests we weren’t supposed to hear that. His idea of a whisper, though, is my normal speaking voice, and it bounces back to us easily.
I glance at Connolly. He motions for us to creep toward the doors. We do that, crouched down, and get two feet before Hector speaks.
“Miss Bennett and Mr. Connolly. I know you are in here, and I know you took the necklace. I also know you two children aren’t the masterminds behind this. Convenient that Vanessa slipped out right before you examined it. I’m guessing she has the necklace and is long gone, escaped before the chaos.”
Heavy steps thud into the room with the faint drag of his injured foot. We use the sound to cross the room, stopping when Hector does.
“My wife can be very . . . persuasive. I’m sure you’ve realized by now that her abilities go far beyond dream shaping. She has seduced you, and I don’t mean she’s taken you to her bed. Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t. Her greater power is the ability to seduce without even batting her lashes. Believe me, I spent a very long time entranced by Vanessa’s charms.”
More thumps. A whisper I don’t catch, presumably from one of his men.
“What I am saying,” Hector continues, “is that I don’t blame you for getting caught up in this. You are truly children, in over your heads, and it is my wife’s fault. All you need to do is come out and speak to me. Tell me the truth.”
We’re nearly at the door. One lunge, and we’d be there. But we’re listening. We’re both listening in spite of ourselves.
“I have something you want,” he says. “Something you were supposed to buy with that necklace. Yes? You know what I’m talking about. I won’t say more because I suspect you haven’t shared that particular secret with your new partner. The problem is that if Vanessa has the necklace, she’s not giving it to you. I’m sure she promised to help with your . . . sibling issue, but now that she has the necklace, all bets are off. My wife might be endlessly charming, but she’s as sharp-toothed as those vipers. Beautiful and deadly and amoral, as you are about to discover.”
“Sir,” one of the men whispers. “Listen.”
They’re still in the other part of the room, and we haven’t moved, so whatever Hector’s man hears, it isn’t us. As they go silent, the sound they’ve noticed travels to us. It’s a soft rustling.
It’s not us. It’s nowhere near us. It’s back in the other half of the room, where we . . .
Where we’d been.
I grin as I realize what we’re hearing. Then I creep to the door, ignoring Connolly’s sharp look of worry. I motion that I’m not leaving yet. I’m waiting for something. Something I know is . . .
“Hands up!” a voice barks . . . in the other part of the room.
There’s no answer except a curse and then a crash as a two-thousand-year-old vase smashes to the floor, freeing the baby copperhead I dropped inside it. I’m happy about its escape—I’d been trying to figure out how to come back and free it—but I’m far less happy about the destruction of a priceless Greek artifact.
Still, it’s the distraction I was waiting for, and I yank open the door and shove Connolly through.
We get five steps into the temporary exhibit before my eyes adjust enough for me to look around.
“It’s the exhibit on Alexandria!” I whisper. “I’ve been wanting to see this. I got an e-mail about it, and I meant to make plans to come—”
“And you can do so after we get out of here,” Connolly says, pulling me through the displays.
“But as long as we’re here . . .”
He turns to look at me.
“Kidding,” I say. “Geez, you re
ally do take me for a ditz, don’t you?”
“No, I take you for a creature of limitless unpredictability and dauntless intrepidity. I would not put it past you to sneak in a quick tour while fleeing evil henchmen, and I mean that in the best possible way. Now come on.”
“I really am coming back,” I whisper. “Did you know that there were supposedly a thousand curse scrolls in the Great Library of Alexandria? Some theorize that they were rescued along with—”
“I would love to hear this,” Connolly says as he continues steering me toward the exit. “Tomorrow. Over breakfast.”
“I’ll hold you to that, you know. But in return, you can tell me all about the marvels of actuarial science.”
A soft chuckle. “Careful. I might take you seriously.”
“You can. I’m interested.”
He hesitates for a second, and in the dim light, I feel his gaze on me, but I can’t see his expression. Then he snaps out of it and murmurs something I don’t catch.
We’re at the exit door in a few more running strides. We pause there, listening. Silence from the room we left though I’m sure they’re still there, searching.
I ease open the door. We get through just as the other door opens. I’m about to shove our door shut, but Connolly keeps hold of it, very carefully and quietly letting it shut. It’s almost closed when Hector calls back to one of his men, his voice booming.
“Forget this bullshit,” he says. “I’ll take it up with my wife. Lars? Get back to the hotel and check on our guest. Make sure Vanessa didn’t do an end run around me and stage a jailbreak.”
Connolly and I look at each other. Then we take off.
We don’t run out the nearest exit. We have a new goal to pursue—Hector’s henchman, Lars, who has just been dispatched to check on Hope. Hector launched a homing pigeon to show the way to my sister, and we are following that bird.
Now, one might think that at a black-tie fundraiser, all unalarmed exits would be sealed to prevent people from sneaking in. I say so to Connolly, and his look reminds me just how little I understand this world.
Yes, if this were an invitation-only event—like our smaller gala—people might try to sneak in. But the larger gala is a fundraiser, meaning if you don’t have the funds, you’re sure as hell not going to risk the humiliation of being discovered sneaking in.
Cursed Luck, Book 1 Page 23
