"Don't you dare." He flicked a handful of bubbles at her. He was fully clothed, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He'd already showered earlier.
"Do you understand why I can't bring you?" she asked. Aside from the fact that Daniel—the thief—was the logical choice, taking Raven would be too risky. "There might be old photographs of you at the exhibit. Or worse yet, if you shifted during the party…"
"The witch helping your mother would know it was me." He dried his hands on his jeans. "Why does it matter? I'm immortal until the hundred years is up."
Which was closing in fast, she thought. "It's safer for you to stay home."
He scowled at her. "With Joyce and Kyle guarding me?"
"They're your friends, not your bodyguards."
He changed the subject. "Do you think Rory is the groupie-witch?"
"I don't know. If he is, then he's waiting for the perfect moment to use the amulet to benefit Zinna."
"Maybe Zinna's powers can't be increased while she is still under the binding spell."
She looked up at him. The sunlight that spilled into the bathroom cast a purple sheen over his hair. "That's what I'm hoping."
"Is Daniel going to steal it from the museum?" he asked.
"Yes. But not tonight. He needs to plan the heist. Case the location, and all that."
Raven snared her gaze. "I want to help with the robbery. I want to be involved."
She wasn't about to deny him. It was his soul that hung in the balance. "I think that's a fine idea."
"Good." He picked up a washcloth and sponged it over her shoulder. "We can consider it a raid. And if the enemy tries to stop us, it will be a war expedition." He moved the washcloth lower, cleaning the sides of her body, then her breasts. "Daniel will be the leader."
Allie remained quiet. He wasn't touching her in a sexual way. His mind was preoccupied.
She turned and let him do her back. She imagined him as boy, listening to stories of raids and wars and things he'd hoped to do when he got older.
"Were women allowed to raid?" she asked, inquiring about the past.
"Yes. Women could be warriors, too."
"Then I'm ready." She turned back around. "I've been training for a year to kick someone's ass."
He smiled and splashed her. She tried to drag him into the water, but he resisted, pulling away from her.
And then melancholy clung in the air.
Earlier she'd told him about Lagarto's prophecy, and he was still troubled by it. She could see the discomfort in his eyes.
"My wife's suicide shouldn't be in vain," he said.
She got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself. If death was his only option, then being reunited with Vanessa made sense. But if he were able to live…
"You might not die, Raven."
"I know." He stood like a lone brave, uncertain of his future, of what to expect. "I think that's why Vanessa showed me her burial. It was her way of letting me say goodbye to her. In case I remain in this century."
"With me?"
He nodded. "It makes sense, doesn't it? My wife has known about you all along." He paused, correcting his statement. "About us."
"That's true. But she's been giving me clues, too. She's trying to help." And Allie wasn't going to let Vanessa down. She reached for her robe, holding fast to her strength, to being a female warrior. She needed to focus on obtaining the amulet and breaking the curse.
Before Zinna reclaimed her power.
And took Raven away from both of the women trying to save him.
* * *
Hollywood was booming, Allie thought. Winos weaved their way through club-goers, gang-bangers, hookers and the general weirdos that flocked to the boulevard.
And then there was her and Daniel.
The side street where the museum was located didn't have a parking spot in sight, so Daniel kept driving around. Finally, he nailed a place on the Walk of Fame, four blocks away from their destination.
When they got out of the car, he ogled her for what seemed like the thousandth time.
"If you like the way I look, then just tell me and get it over with," she said.
He swept his gaze over her, and she stood on the sidewalk, letting him take his fill. She'd zipped her lean curves into a short silver dress that glittered like rain and scooped in front, exposing a jeweled décolletage. Her waist-length hair was half up and half down, with crystal-studded barrettes holding it in place. Her shoes were four-inch stilettos.
"I like the way you look," he said.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She slipped a matching handbag over her shoulder. "You're still staring."
"I am?"
"Totally."
"Sorry." He blinked, shook his head, tried to behave. "What did Raven say when he saw you?"
She couldn't help but smile. "He thought I looked dangerous."
"Likewise." Daniel blew out an audible breath. "You're wearing hooker shoes."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "You notice their shoes?"
"What can I say? I'm a leg man." He stuffed the car keys in his pocket and moved closer.
She sniffed his cologne, detecting notes of nutmeg and sandalwood. But it was the Brylcreem that sent her senses in motion.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Not yet." She itched to run her fingers through his hair. But instead of getting that familiar with him, she compromised, straightening his already-straight tie. "Now we can go."
As they strode down the boulevard, an enterprising bag lady approached them for money. Without the slightest hesitation, Daniel reached into his pocket and gave her some bills.
The grateful woman thanked him and wheeled her shopping cart away. Allie slanted him a curious glance.
"I always keep money on hand for the homeless," he said.
"That's nice of you." She glanced at the sidewalk and saw that they were standing on Alfred Hitchcock's star. She hoped that wasn't a bad omen.
By the time they reached Lassie's star, another bum, a sixtysomething guy in a ragged army jacket, hit them up. Daniel handed over some cash, and the man flashed a rotting smile and said, "Jesus loves you."
Allie wondered if Daniel was wearing his crucifix under his shirt and tie.
A few more paces and they passed a hooker sporting stilettos similar to Allie's. Daniel chuckled under his breath, and she elbowed him.
Still grinning, he looped his arm through hers, and she realized how much she enjoyed Hollywood.
Or was it Daniel she was enjoying?
Finally they made it to the museum, where the storefront entrance was open. Touch-of-Marilyn was working behind the counter, with his white face, black eyeliner and gloomy clothes. He smiled when he saw Allie, then noticed Daniel and greeted him, too. She showed Touch-of-Marilyn her invitation, and he unhooked the velvet-wrapped chain and let them into the museum.
Allie's witch radar went off the Richter scale, but she'd expected as much. Daniel took a quick but thorough look around; he was casing the place already.
The party was under way, with an elegant buffet loaded with appetizers. At a portable bar, champagne flowed freely. Tall cocktail tables were scattered about, leaving plenty of standing room.
The other guests were an eclectic mix of what Allie assumed were witches, anthropologists and metaphysical buffs. A tarot card reader, provided for the guests' entertainment, accepted tips for a reading.
"I wonder if she's any good," Daniel said.
"She'd have to be in order to work this group."
Daniel led Allie to the buffet. "Let's get some food, then we can wander around."
"That's fine." Tonight she was taking her cues from the thief.
As they got in line, her shoes sounded on the hardwood floor, hitting the surface like decorative spikes.
Once they reached the food, Daniel went for a mixture of appetizers, and Allie chose vegetarian hors d'oeuvres. She accepted a glass of champagne, and he drank club soda.
> She was dying to view The Vanessa, but he wanted to cruise around a bit, to get a layout of the entire building.
He moved closer to her and whispered, "I have a photographic memory."
"There's no such thing," she whispered back. "Scientists say that's a myth."
He stole a cream cheese and olive canapé from her plate. "How about a hidden camera?"
She took a potato puff from him. "Where is it?"
"If I told you, it wouldn't be hidden."
She knew it was somewhere on his person. A spy gadget she wasn't about to go searching for. If he were her lover, she could strip him down after the party. But she wasn't sleeping with Daniel.
After they finished their food and drinks, they roamed the museum, working their way to The Vanessa. A group of guests gathered at the exhibit, reading the text on the plaque and examining the photographs Rory had included of Yvonne and her ancestors. There were no pictures of the "allegedly cursed" warrior or his wife, but their names—Thomas and Vanessa Raven—were mentioned fervently, depicting their lives.
His disappearance from Fort Sill. Her suicide.
The tragic couple. Lost forever.
Allie was so angry she could barely breathe. How could Rory present such a desperate tale and not believe in the curse?
She moved closer to the amulet, staring at it through the glass. The talisman, she thought. The object that could save Raven.
Daniel approached the glass, blocking her view. Finally, when he turned around, he winked at her.
She didn't know what to think. And then it hit her. He'd been photographing The Vanessa.
He adjusted his horn-rims, and she tilted her head. Was the camera in the frames of Fearless's glasses?
A few minutes later, Rory strolled around the corner, dressed in an impeccable suit, with his silver earring and longish hair.
"I'm so glad you came to the party," he said to Allie. "I wasn't sure if you would."
"And miss The Vanessa's debut?" She gestured to the necklace. "Not a chance."
Daniel stepped into the line of fire, and she introduced him to Rory. The men shook hands, doing what was expected of them.
"Do you know where I found the Vanessa?" Rory asked.
"Hidden inside of a gourd rattle," Allie responded.
He flashed a pompous smile. "I take it you've been to see Carmen Lagarto."
"Yes, but apparently we were a few weeks too late." Daniel frowned at the curator. "You tracked down the rattle before we got the chance."
"These things happen."
"So they do." Allie struggled to keep her cool. "What puzzles me is why you aren't taking the curse more seriously. You know as well as I do that Lagarto predicted my involvement in all of this."
"That's true, but he didn't prophesize that the curse would be broken. Only that you'd try. To me, that isn't proof that Thomas Raven was turned into a bird and has lived for a hundred years."
Allie had proof. Only, she was wary of admitting it. She didn't trust Rory any more than she trusted her game-playing mother.
"Did you know that I'm a hereditary witch?" he asked.
"Yes, but how is that relevant?"
"Because there was a curse affiliated with my family, too. I spent years chasing down the truth, and it turned out to be folklore." He squared his shoulders. "Witches are never as powerful as the stories about them."
With that, he excused himself and approached another guest, leaving Allie and Daniel in the dust.
Before long, Fallon showed up. The college student looked radiant in a white dress and suede boots. Along with her Celtic bracelets, she wore contemporary Indian jewelry.
Allie introduced her to Daniel, and the other woman seemed genuinely pleased to meet him. Everything about her seemed so sweet, so real.
So difficult to discern.
"This is awful," Fallon said. "Rory won't part with the amulet. There's no way for us to break the curse."
"Us?" Allie asked.
"We're allies, aren't we?" The blonde frowned a little. "Or do you still distrust me?"
"My mother told me that the witch helping her is you or Rory."
"It isn't me. I swear it isn't." Fallon held Allie's gaze. "But I don't think it's Rory, either." She twisted a strand of her hair. "Maybe Yvonne is lying. Maybe she's trying to trick you."
"Maybe," Allie said. Or maybe sweet little Fallon was playing her for the fool.
The blonde leaned closer. "We should steal the amulet. You know, with the intention of putting it back. Do you think that's possible? Do you think we could pull that off?"
"I have no idea." Allie glanced at Daniel, but he didn't react. He was pretending to read the plaque, refusing to give anything away.
Fallon sighed, then turned and gasped.
Daniel looked up and started, too.
And so did Allie.
The taxidermy owls were blinking, their eyes shining like haunted jewels, like a message from Zinna.
That her power was coming back.
Chapter 15
After the party, Allie, Daniel and Raven gathered in the living room at the loft, talking, hashing out the incident at the museum. Even Samantha seemed tense. The cat sat on the floor, her gaze shifting from person to person.
"Are you sure those blinking eyes were coming from Zinna?" Raven asked Allie. "That it wasn't Rory or Fallon playing a trick on you?"
She responded, "Derek said that when Zinna's power starts to return, she would use an owl to get our attention. So why not an entire shelf of stuffed owls? Besides, the witch energy felt stronger to me. More powerful than Rory or Fallon."
He reached for the herbal tea she'd brewed. "I shifted several times when you were gone. Back and forth. Maybe that was because of Zinna. Maybe I was reacting to her, to the blinking eyes."
She put her hand on his shoulder. "We're getting down to the wire. The hundred-year deadline is looming."
"Exactly a week." Raven frowned at his cup.
Daniel glanced up from the computer where he was uploading the photographs he'd taken. Sure enough, his glasses had a microcamera built into them, with a transmitter he'd worn in his pocket.
They weren't his regular glasses, even if they looked the same. He'd assured Allie that he didn't go around snapping pictures all the time.
"We'll make the deadline," he said. "We're going to break into the museum on Monday."
"That's three days away." Allie scooted to the edge of the couch. She was still wearing the silver cocktail dress, but she'd ditched the hooker shoes. "Can we do it that quickly?"
"Yes, but we're going to have to haul ass with the preparations."
Raven was all ears. "What preparations? What do we need to do?"
Daniel activated the printer and the machine went into its best-quality mode. "First, we need to make a replica of the amulet."
"We're going to switch them?" Allie asked.
"Yep. With Raven's memory of the necklace, your artistic ability and the pictures I took, we'll be able to reproduce a likeness that should go undetected." He scooped up the photographs he'd printed. "At least until Zinna tries to use it."
"It's a perfect plan," Raven said. "The museum won't know they've been robbed until it's too late."
Allie had never stolen anything, not even candy from the drugstore when she was a kid. "How do we do this without getting caught?"
Daniel had a ready answer. "I'll disable the alarms and pick the locks. I've done jobs like this before. I'm familiar with the security system." He sat back in his chair. "I took pictures of everything. I'll draw up a diagram of the museum and map out our plan."
"We could still get caught," Allie said.
"There's always that risk." Daniel frowned. "But I'm more worried about Zinna than the police. I have a creepy feeling that she'll be guarding the museum from now on. Gaining more and more power each day."
"Me, too." Allie sipped her tea, hoping to warm the chill that rattled her bones.
Suddenly no one said anyt
hing, and the silence was deafening. She looked around, telling herself to relax.
A vanilla-scented candle burned, sweetening the air. The blinds were closed, keeping the darkness outside at bay. Every light in the room shined bright.
Raven caught Daniel's attention. "If something goes wrong, will you look after Allie, will you…" His words trailed, but his meaning was clear. He was asking Daniel to take his place, to be Allie's lover.
Her breath lodged in her throat.
Dodging eye contact with Daniel, she spoke to Raven. "Men don't make decisions for women in this day and age."
"I don't care," he responded. "This is important to me."
"To me, too," Daniel said. "And yes, Raven, I'll look after her. I'll be there if she needs me."
Exasperated, she shook her head. Pretty soon they'd be bargaining a bride price for her. "This is crazy."
"No, it isn't." Daniel managed to snare her gaze, trapping her with the eye contact she'd been trying to avoid.
He made her stomach flutter. But Raven had that kind of effect on her, too. She wanted to kick both of their archaic asses.
Yet somewhere deep down, she was touched. And curious. Terribly curious about what making love with Daniel would be like.
"Can we get back to the robbery?" she asked.
"Yes. Of course." Daniel glanced away, but he didn't break the spell. Beside him, smoke drifted from the candle, curving into an almost humanlike shape, like a genie from a bottle. "We'll enter the museum through the front, as if we're using a key. And we'll dress in Gothic clothes, with our faces made up, like the dude behind the counter. That way, if anyone sees us, they'll think we work there. Plus, we won't be easily identifiable."
She finished her tea, still trying to keep warm, to get her emotions back on track. "We're going to look like Touch-of-Marilyn?"
Daniel tilted his head. "That's his name?"
"That's what I call him. He reminds me a little of Marilyn Manson."
Daniel nodded, but Raven frowned.
"He reminds you of a woman?" her lover asked.
"Marilyn Manson is a man."
Raven kept frowning, and she and Daniel exchanged a humored glance. She would have to show Raven the singer's picture on the Internet.
"He's a strangely artistic man," she clarified. "Who plays music and paints."
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