by Jenn Stark
The sudden whitewash of her pain had been impressive, but she got the feeling it wasn’t all Finn had wanted with his little Mr. Invisible trick. He’d wanted to tell her something, something important. Something that made her heart pound and her nerves tingle with anticipation, with fear, with excitement—
And yet, all this was insane. If she was truly supposed to believe Finn, she was riding through downtown Cleveland, Ohio, with a Fallen angel, ready to save her uncle from…um, demons.
Max would be suffering a complete meltdown if he was here.
As they pulled up to the sidewalk, the doorman appeared, unreasonably cheerful for the early hour. The Audi driver handed off the keys to him while Dana and Finn mounted the steps to the Post Office Plaza building with two other men. They’d barely cleared the second flight of stairs into the lobby when Dana’s phone buzzed. She scowled down at it, her headache returning in force. Another damned cybersecurity breach. That made six hits in three days.
“You’re upset,” Finn murmured as they moved toward the elevator bay. “About something different, though. Something new.”
Dana snorted a laugh. “Give the man a prize. Somebody’s been trying to hack into our system, unsuccessfully, so far,” she said. “We’ve been having unusual activity all week.” She looked up at him, an idea dawning that she just as quickly rejected. “No. There’s no way it’s related to tonight’s attack,” she said. “Those guys we met on the street weren’t hacker material. They looked like they could barely spell.”
Finn was saved from replying by the whoosh of elevator doors, and they filed into the metal box, accompanied by muscle and guns.
“Where’s Lester?” Dana asked, and the guard nearest her turned slightly.
“You’ll meet Mr. Morrow in the gallery,” he said.
“Your uncle is a collector?” Finn asked, and she jumped. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close to her.
“Amateur only,” she said, her eyes fixed on the line of gradually lighting numbers. “He funds student archaeologist digs and occasionally picks up pieces. Or he gets word of an artifact about to go up for sale on the black market and steps in to collect it before anyone else gets a jump on it.” Was that how he obtained the mysterious document Finn and this Bartholomew wanted so badly? At a dig site? Usually, Lester sent her out to collect the specimens—if he didn’t, he shared the details of the recovery of every shard of pottery, every scrap of papyrus with her. But there’d been nothing recent about a document, she was sure of it.
The moment they reached the twenty-first floor, one of Lester’s security guards peeled off, presumably to loiter somewhere else so as not to worry the few staff members working the graveyard shift. In all, Exeter and its sister companies held the top three floors within Post Office Plaza, and Lester’s gallery was on the second of those floors, near his office. Walking more quickly, the remaining guard led them to the gallery room and keyed the security pad to unlock the doors. They strode into the center of the brightly lit room, which was unoccupied, and Dana did a double take.
Lester had been busy.
The room was long, relatively narrow, and windowless, lined with thick mahogany shelves. At odd intervals, space had been created to allow for the occasional piece of framed artwork, but most of Lester’s collection usually fit easily on the shelves, each with its own tidy explanatory note card. In the center of the room, a conversational grouping of chairs and tables welcomed guests to enjoy the surroundings in comfort. Typically, the shelves were sparsely lined with gleaming bits of antiquities—cups, platters, vases, sculpture. But not tonight.
Tonight, Lester must have dragged out every box he had in storage to dump them out up here.
The room was filled to bursting with piles of historical baubles—every possible piece of dishware, weaponry, decoration, jewelry, or artwork that Lester must have kept over the last forty years or more, since he’d begun what he’d always affectionately termed his hobby. Looking around, Dana quickly reassessed his hobby as an obsession…and judging by its sheer volume, a more expensive one than she’d ever realized. She hoped it wasn’t an illegal one as well. She could only wonder at the value of the document that had captured Finn’s and this Bartholomew’s attention.
“You’ve arrived.”
They turned to greet Lester, who stood in the doorway, and Dana watched her uncle’s entire face light up the moment he set eyes on Finn.
Here comes Santa Claus. Forget Lester Morrow’s custom-made suit and expensive shoes, forget the snow-white hair and seen-it-all eyes. Her uncle was as giddy as a first grader on Christmas Eve, and it appeared his present had come early this year.
“Lester Morrow,” Finn said beside her, his voice rumbling through the room.
Lester stopped short, his bushy eyebrows leaping up, a wide smile breaking out across his face, smoothing out some wrinkles, deepening others. Even his eyes were filled with delight. “Finn,” he breathed, the word a benediction. “I knew you would come. I’ve waited so…so long.” He gestured for the guards to leave, and shut the door behind them.
“You’ve added a few pieces, I see,” Dana observed drily as her uncle finished resetting the door locks, then came up behind them to take their coats, every bit the consummate host.
“I’ve pulled my collection back to me over the past few months. Everything I have is either here or on loan to the city library,” Lester said to Finn. “When I learned you were here, I had the rest of it brought up from storage. Forgive me for not having time to set up all the information cards but…” He paused, rapt. “I expect you don’t need an explanation for anything in my collection.”
“No.” Finn turned away from them and walked down the length of the room, to all appearances unmoved by the millennia of bling Lester had lugged up for his review. He passed the garish life-size Virgin Mary portrait without hesitating, so score one for his artistic integrity, but then he stopped, his attention caught by a pile of jewelry and pottery. Dana stepped closer to her uncle as Finn picked up a heavily carved Mayan vase and turned it over in his hands.
“From the Classic period,” Lester supplied loudly, his voice grating on Dana’s nerves. He sounded like a child too eager to please, and Dana was fast reaching the limits of her patience. She was tired, she was under-caffeinated, and she was annoyed with Lester for nearly getting them both killed over a pile of paperwork.
“Lester, we can probably cut to the chase here,” she said, her voice low but sharp. “Whatever it is you’ve got for Finn, give it to him so he can be on his way. And the next time you stumble into something that brings the hounds of hell yapping at your heels, maybe tell me what’s going on up front so I can arrange enough security to handle it.”
She hadn’t planned on explaining that the literal hounds of hell had been in the mix tonight, but Lester jolted at her words with a defensiveness that was undeniable.
“Dana!” he hissed. “Please, be quiet!” To her complete surprise, his voice broke on the words, and his face went scarlet with embarrassment. He darted a glance to where Finn was poking through a treasure trove of Egyptian jewelry. When her uncle looked back at her, his eyes were shining with naked emotion, and only then could she see the desperation that practically consumed him. It was an unnerving, pitiable sight. A better person would have felt sorry for the man, but she didn’t. Lester knew better. Dana opened her mouth to protest, but her uncle held up a trembling hand to stop her.
“I have waited so long,” he said again, and his earnest words succeeded where his eyes could not. “You can’t understand the importance of this—this meeting to me. It’s all that I have worked for. All I’ve lived for, for more years than you would ever believe.”
“Okay, well, Finn said you were attacked over this document that he wants from you. That that was the reason behind the thugs hitting us on Halloween. What are you even doing with something like that?”
“I know, I know.” Lester sighed heavily, his look turning woebegone. “I never wante
d you to learn how dangerous all this was. I’m so sorry, but this is critically important to me.”
Even knowing that he was a master chameleon, the sight of her uncle’s crestfallen face winged through Dana, shattering her irritation. Dammit. Lester Morrow might run a multinational company with enough perks to keep him in fast cars and well-cut suits—and, apparently, a lot of dusty relics—but he was still an old man. An old man who wanted his meeting with destiny. Dana grimaced, brushing his arm lightly in reassurance. The movement was eerily similar to the affectionate touch she’d given Willie at Flannery’s Pub, and she felt the net of her obligations tightening around her.
“Well then, go ahead,” she said, then glanced over to where Finn was standing. He was hefting a heavy gold bracelet and staring straight at her, his eyes a question. She nodded once, stepping away as Lester trotted up the swath of golden carpet to pay homage to his guest. Dana rubbed her temples, which were once again throbbing, then jerked as her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, keeping Lester and Finn in plain view as she glanced at it.
Found breach. Griffin X server. Need you down here.
Dana’s stomach twisted. Griffin X was her company’s most secure server, holding clients’ top files as a backup should disaster strike. “Hackproof,” as Max liked to say, except he wouldn’t be able to say that anymore. Well, shit. She wouldn’t be any help down there if Max was already aware of the point of entry. It was simply a matter of following the trail. And she didn’t particularly care for the vibe between Finn and Lester either. Her uncle was talking animatedly to Finn, pointing first to one trinket, then another. Finn kept nodding, but she noticed he wasn’t letting go of the dull gold bracelet. She thumbed Reply and typed back.
Can’t. Who?
There was a pause while Max typed, and Dana’s eyes darted up first to Finn and Lester, then to the wet bar at the side of the room. The coffeemaker there was basic, more for show. No comparison to the setup she had down at her office, but it would do.
Her hand shook with the receipt of Max’s reply, and she glanced down again.
Exeter. Lester? Replaced 23 of own files since 12/21. Last transaction this morning finally tripped the wire.
Dana blew out a short breath. Lester replacing his own files shouldn’t be a big deal. But to replace them on Griffin’s private server took multiple approvals, approvals he didn’t have. Getting around those security measures each time would be tricky, since the codes were switched every few hours. She glanced around at the motley collection of trinkets Lester had hurriedly pulled out of mothballs. If his last attempt at moving files was this morning, then that would probably have been while she and Finn were running for their lives. Time had grown too short, Lester had gotten sloppy. But he wasn’t a stupid man, and even now, she felt his eyes on her. She looked up with a smile.
“Thank God,” she said, clearing out her cache with a few keystrokes.
“Is there a problem?” Lester asked, coming halfway toward her and radiating concern, clearly torn between ensuring she kept her mouth shut and taking care of Finn.
“No problem at all,” Dana said. “Max thought one of our servers had crashed, but it was probably only an electrical glitch. Everything is sailing along, all systems go.” She looked at them brightly. “Well?”
Is it so difficult to get this exchange over with? How long would it take for the ceremonial handing over of the scroll so they could all go crawl into a pot of java somewhere?
“Dana, you must be exhausted,” Lester said, as if hearing her thoughts. “Please, both of you, sit down.” He shooed them both toward the chairs, and bustled over to the wet bar, punching buttons as the coffee machine whirred to life.
Dana gave thanks to God for her beloved uncle. The wise man, the kind man, the generous ma—
Finn carefully set the bracelet down on one of the small tables, then looked at Dana intently. “Your uncle has collected many impressive artifacts,” he said quietly. “More than I would have expected. How much do you know of his work?”
She frowned at him, one eye on Lester. Could the man take any longer with a freaking mug of joe? “It’s a hobby, Finn, nothing more,” she said. “Lester doesn’t visit the digs himself.” She needed to distance Lester from the document, whatever it was, and convince Finn it had fallen into his hands almost by mistake. “Whatever it is he found, he’s probably not aware of its importance. And most of the stuff here is fake, copies of items he’s sent on to museums.”
Finn looked unconvinced, then Lester arrived suddenly at Dana’s elbow. “You take it with cream and sugar, don’t you, dear?” he asked, and Dana squinted at him.
“Not since I was twelve, no,” she grumbled. Still, coffee was coffee, and she slugged it down. The cloying sweetness seemed to coat her throat, but she wasn’t about to argue. She needed the juice.
“You could use about an hour of rest, I think. Maybe six,” Lester said, shaking his head. He turned his gaze on Finn. “You agree she should rest?”
Finn, to her surprise, shifted uneasily in his chair. “She should rest,” he said, his words a flat agreement, not a show of solidarity.
“Well, I’m glad we got that cleared up,” Dana said, not even bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice. Lester hadn’t gotten Finn coffee, just her. Was her fatigue really showing that strongly? This was such a waste of her time, and everything seemed so hurried. Constricted. Finn and Lester gazed at each other with an undercurrent of intensity that bothered her on a soul-deep level. Apprehension skated through her, and instinctively, she pulled her phone out of her jacket and stared at it. Another message from Max had come through, words that made no sense written across the screen.
This won’t make you happy.
Why was her phone in her hand?
Lester came over to her, holding his hand out for her phone. Not knowing why, she jerked it away and curled it into her body, as if she was a ten-year-old refusing to give up her favorite toy.
“Dana, you really should rest,” Lester said soothingly. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder. As she winced at the contact, wanting to get away from him for no good reason, he looked at her more closely. “Is your leg bothering you?”
“My leg is fine. You are bothering me.” She was angry, she was almost certain, but her thoughts skittered around her head, refusing to cooperate. She was angry…at Lester, she thought. For…a very good reason.
“Well, it’s all worked out, Dana.” Lester’s voice cut across her scattered thoughts as he patted her arm. “He’s here with me, finally.” He nodded toward Finn, who was staring at her uncle with a decidedly grim expression. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Certain details stood out sharply in her mind. Lester, patting her arm the same way Margaret had, as if she was a prized Chihuahua. Finn’s furious gaze, almost primal in its intensity, completely at odds with his unconsciously elegant attire. Finn’s hands, clenched together above the golden cuff. Her own nearly empty mug, with the dregs of the too-sweet coffee pooling in the bottom.
The numbness started in her hands and feet first, crawling up her skin, winding toward her heart.
My coffee, she thought. The bastard spiked my coffee.
She swung her head around toward Lester, the action seeming to take twice as long as it should.
“No,” she breathed.
And fell into blackness.
Chapter Twelve
Exeter Global Services
Post Office Plaza
Cleveland, Ohio
4:30 a.m., Dec. 24
Finn carefully unclenched his fists as he watched Dana slump bonelessly on the couch. He was here for Lester’s list, he reminded himself. How the man treated his own flesh and blood should be irrelevant. “Was that necessary?” he asked.
“No, but it was convenient.” Lester checked Dana’s pulse first at her wrist, then at her neck, but he didn’t try to pry her phone out of her hand. Probably wise. “My niece is very dedicated to me, and I wan
ted to continue our conversation without her learning too much of the more sensitive nature of my work. Such knowledge would only lead to unnecessary concern on her part, when she should focus on healing. I’d hoped she would leave of her own accord, but now I believe it is better if she sleeps under my watch. You’ll forgive the subterfuge, I hope.”
“What did you give her?”
“My personal physician’s own creation, actually. A low-dose sedative, meant to act quickly but with a relatively short duration. Dana will awake unharmed in several hours and with much-needed rest. You can see that she has overtaxed herself.” He beamed down at Dana, but his expression wasn’t exactly protective. It was more the pride of ownership. What’s going on here?
Finn sent a quick brush over Lester’s mind—and was blocked. He scowled. Probably not surprising given the number of blessed artifacts in the room, but still, annoying.
“Don’t worry,” Lester continued as Finn glanced around, trying to identify the trinket causing the interference. Could be, Lester had it on him, tucked in a pocket for protection. Smart man. “She has nothing to fear within the confines of this room. It’s been retrofitted to my exact specifications, from wall thickness to surveillance equipment to alarms that will light up the control boards of security firms from here to New York.”
Finn raised his brows. “Including Griffin Security?”
“I’ve taken the precaution of removing Griffin from video access. We’ll not be disturbed.”
While Lester spoke, Finn’s gaze dropped to the solid gold cuff he’d picked up, undistinguished from its fellows except for a faint string of etched glyphs around its edge. Lester had no doubt recovered it illegally on one of his unsanctioned “digs.” But the old man couldn’t know what he had. Humans rarely did when it came to arcane artifacts.
