Agent of Magic Box Set

by Melissa Hawke

  “How much of your Greek mythology do you remember? Are you familiar with the tale of the minotaur?” I asked.

  “Half-man, half-bull, right? The King of Crete put him in a maze.”

  “Labyrinth. And yes, that’s mostly right. The minotaur was the offspring of Queen Pasiphae and a majestic bull.”

  “And I thought I had odd tastes,” Ewan mused. “What about it?”

  “King Minos was disgusted by the child and ordered the craftsman Daedalus and his son Icarus to build a labyrinth to contain the monster,” I said. “So far as we’ve been able to tell, it wasn’t actually a physical location. Daedalus was a mage and a very powerful one at that. Scholars have theorized that the labyrinth was situated in a large pocket dimension that adjoined the palace in Crete. It was designed to keep the minotaur from hurting people.”

  “So the thread does what exactly?”

  “It was an artifact bespelled by Princess Ariadne, another mage. She was very taken with the hero Theseus and wanted him to escape the labyrinth after slaying the minotaur. The thread is an interdimensional anchor. I believe we’ll be able to escape Mictlan if we attach it to a point outside the underworld and have ourselves pulled out at the last moment.”

  “You sure you’re not just stalling for time?” Ewan drawled.

  I shifted uncomfortably. This might be a wild goose chase, but it served my purposes. I planned on killing Ewan the first chance I got, if opportunity arose, but I couldn’t let him know that. It had to seem real. Offering Bryne the one thing she wanted more than freedom—revenge—had worked out well, for now. If her burning rage was anything like Valerius’, she wouldn’t let this manpuppet boss her around. He was barely gripping control, just like I was.

  “Let’s say you win this duel of ours,” I said. “Do you really want to get stuck down there for eternity? Hasn’t Bryne spent enough centuries buried under a few tons of rock?”

  “Fair point,” Ewan conceded.

  The quiet ambiance of the cafe buzzed all around us as everyone absorbed the plan. I waited for further argument, but even Findlay didn’t voice an objection. For the first time, it seemed to dawn on him that this little adventure could be a one-way trip. The thread of Ariadne was our best chance at escaping alive, and everyone knew it.

  “It won’t be easy,” Cayman said slowly. “But I can get us in.”

  “As an official Trust member?” Dom said. “They’ll know it was you.”

  “I guess,” the shaman rumbled, “since the alternative is world ending cataclysm, it doesn’t much matter. But it won’t be easy. And we’ll probably die in the attempt.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Ewan said with false cheer. “You up for a heist, Valdez?”

  I swiped the last shot glass from Ewan’s grip and tossed it back. The alcohol burned on the way down and fortified my wavering nerves.

  “Damn straight, Saunders. Now, where’s that check?”

  chapter

  6

  CAYMAN’S CONTACT IN GREECE WAS a short man with springy hair, and an accent thick enough to slather onto a brick. He’d introduced himself as Georgios and hadn’t stopped beaming at Cayman since he’d arrived.

  We were bound for the Archeological Museum of Heraklion, widely considered to be one of the most important museums in Greece. Arched vaulted windows and hanging chandeliers cast light on marble statues and glass cases with artefacts inside. It was really too bad we were here to steal from the place. If we were forced to fight our way out, it was doubtful that, between the five of us, the place would remain standing.

  “I was so pleased to hear you wanted to visit, Cayman,” the man said, beaming over his shoulder at us. “It has been so long since we’ve had a Trust inspection. We were beginning to believe you’d forgotten about us.”

  “We’ve had our hands full with House Grieves and the debacle that went down in Hamburg. Reviewing the maintenance of magical artefacts hasn’t been high on our priority list.”

  I hid a squirm, shoving my hands into the pockets of the floral-patterned overcoat. Dom’s guilty shuffle was more visible than mine. We’d opted against glamour for a number of reasons. The vault had strict security measures, and only certain authorized personnel would be allowed in with Cayman. Obtaining someone’s hair or skin fibers in order to impersonate them was going to be more trouble than it was worth. Glamours were also vulnerable to water, as I’d learned the hard way after nearly getting us all killed in Lamonia’s manor. In the highly likely event that Ewan started slinging fireballs, activating the sprinkler system, the disguise would melt away like a light frost.

  But the magical community depended too much on their security spells, and didn’t look closely enough at physical appearances. So with the help of online makeup tutorials, a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts I’d ever worn, boots that came up to mid-calf, and a lightweight coat, I transformed myself into a blonde, boho-chic intern.

  I felt ridiculous, but so far I’d managed to fit in with many of the milling tourists. Dom, Ewan, and I were standing a few paces back, trying to look innocent. Dom’s hair had been buzzed short and frosted at the tips. Between that and the baggy jacket, he looked like a member of a boy band, catapulted from the 90s into the modern era.

  Georgios nodded along. “Of course, of course. It was terrible what happened in Hamburg. Are you any closer to catching the two who arranged it?”

  “I think we’re closer to finding Finch and Valdez than we ever dreamed,” Cayman said dryly. Thankfully, our guide didn’t seem to notice the shaman’s gaze flick back to us.

  I tensed when we approached the museum’s entrance. This was the tricky part. We’d been able to track down the same man who’d once enchanted my bomber jacket and paid him triple his usual fee to give Dom’s trench coat the same treatment. Dom’s accounts had been frozen, and I’d spent my savings on Cat’s treatment, so Findlay grudgingly pulled from the Trust’s coffers, grumbling about the paperwork he was going to have to fill out. But after sixteen hours of intensive work, which we’d spent in a dodgy motel, we’d gotten a very roomy interdimensional pocket attached to the coat.

  Cayman had donned it for this little expedition. His broad shoulders threatened to split the seams. I could practically feel Dom cringe in sympathy for his outerwear.

  In theory, the guns stuffed into the parallel dimension wouldn’t set the alarms off. But I’d never actually tested it on my many forays in and out of the States. I was already more likely to be stopped than most. No reason to give TSA more reasons to ride my ass.

  “Showtime boys and girls,” Ewan said, eyes glittering with anticipation beneath the brim of his hat. I rolled my eyes as the bastard actually rubbed his hands together in glee. The cartoonishly villainous behavior might have been funny if it weren’t coming right the fuck out of nowhere.

  The metal detector beeped shrilly as Cayman stepped through. The man in the booth stepped forward, eyeing Cayman. He had half a dozen piercings on his face alone. He was a nightmare for security and customs no matter where we went. With a sigh, the man produced a wand and directed him through.

  I held my breath as the wand swept down one side of the coat and then up the other. Nothing beeped. Thank fucking god. We had at least six guns inside, and a few knives, provided by Ewan.

  “Can you please remove the coat, sir?” asked the beleaguered security guard. Cayman obligingly set the coat on the stainless-steel counter, and I took a very large and noisy slurp of coffee from my cup, trying to cover the muffled thump as the items inside impacted the metal surface.

  The guard shot me a dirty look, and I rewarded him with my best don’t-mind-me smile. His wand beeped several times, at chest height, around Cayman’s navel, and rather embarrassingly, over his crotch.

  “Got something in your pockets, sir?” the guard asked.

  Cayman’s smile was a flash of bright teeth against the midnight dark of his skin. It always startled me when he smiled, because he almost neve
r did it. Usually, his face was set in an expression of disapproval, as if he had deemed himself the stern patriarch of our motley crew and needed to keep us all in line. So of course, I did everything I could to annoy him.

  “In a sense. I have a stud just around the tip. Want me to whip him out and show you?

  The guard’s face flushed with color and he waved Cayman through without further comment. Dom went next, clearing the metal detector without a peep. Ewan followed, and then it was my turn.

  I waited, perhaps irrationally, for alarms to blare. We were entering one of the most secure facilities in the world and part of me expected the magical defenses to immediately single my demon out as a threat.

  The guard’s gaze barely registered me, and we were led off at a brisk trot by security.

  Surely it can’t be this easy? I thought. One blonde ponytail and a little concealer and no one notices a wanted felon? I’d have to dress like this more often.

  The museum had twenty rooms open to the public, with art ranging from Minoan to classical Greco-Roman fare. The final room wasn’t well known and access was strictly limited to Trust officials after a pair of enterprising young mages had attempted to case the room in the late 1980s.

  Even I’d never seen the interior of the place, and I’d been a top-level operative for years. Museums had always been more Cat’s speed, and I hadn’t had the patience to take in the bombardment of information when there were lives to be saved and serious work to be done.

  Now I began to regret my decision to stay constantly on the move. There was a lot the past could teach me, including how to save my ass in the present. If I’d paid more attention to the myths of my ancestors, I might have known how to rescue Cat that much sooner. Maybe I could have stopped the bloodshed in its tracks, averting a war before it started.

  And if wishes were horses, I’d be running a stable by now.

  The first floor had a wide-open floor plan, a stunning gray marble floor, and plenty of light coming in through the glass panels in the ceiling. A dozen glass cases held beautiful artifacts. I kept waiting for any one of the wandering tourists to point in our direction, shouting that I was here. But all the focus was for the paintings, statues, and bits of pottery held away from the public fascination by inch-thick glass cases.

  The crowds thinned toward the back of the museum. It was still early, as far as things went, so I didn’t expect anyone to be near the last leg of the journey just yet. All the better for our purposes. This was supposed to be a quick job, but we’d come prepared for a fight. The fewer innocents who could get in the way, the better.

  “I don’t believe you’ve introduced me to your interns, Cayman,” Georgios said, flashing me a dazzling smile. It was pretty clear I was the only one he wanted to be on a first-name basis with. Dom shifted in front of me, hiding me from view. He was being a bit of a hypocrite. He’d barely stopped staring at me the entire way over. I didn’t think I’d ever bared this much skin in a public place since the bikini debacle in high school.

  “Some of Sienna’s castoffs. They’re supposed to be working in her office, but after what happened in Hamburg…well they’re just lucky to be alive. This is Maria Hernandez, Fred Lowell,” he motioned to Ewan, who wrinkled his nose in disgust at the name. “And Donald McKinnon.”

  I gave the tour guide a brief wave and he flushed an interesting shade of pink.

  “You poor thing,” he said. “You must have been terrified, to face two turncoat members of the Five. If you ask me, Iron Heart was always a bit off her rocker, even before she betrayed the Trust. I heard she wanted revenge on Sienna for kicking her out and breaking her wand. It’s a miracle you made it out alive with someone as bloodthirsty as her.”

  “Yeah,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes again. “Just lucky I guess.”

  I’d left that office riddled with bullets, with half my skull in the carpet. Georgios cleared his throat and withdrew a key card from his belt, waving it above a sensor bar near a door marked ‘employees only.’ After a few seconds, the door swung open and we were allowed inside.

  The five of us found ourselves crowded into a space about the size of a broom closet, standing shoulder to shoulder while Georgios fiddled with a keypad, tapping in a complex sequence of numbers. A single bare bulb lit the space.

  “Sorry,” he said with a small, apologetic smile. “We can never be too careful. The items beyond are completely priceless. One of a kind objects left over from the Greco-Roman age of magic. In fact, we’ve recently added a new security feature. Once I’ve allowed you in, the door will seal behind you and you’ll have to wait fifteen minutes for release. The door is set on an automatic timer. It’s designed to keep your average thief locked inside until a dose of methyl propyl ether can be administered through the vents.”

  I jerked in surprise. Cayman hadn’t mentioned anything about knockout gas. If it was somehow administered, only Ewan and I would be left untouched. And somehow I didn’t like the idea of an involuntary cage match with my psychotic, demon-possessed former colleague.

  A quick glance up at Ewan showed an almost predatory anticipation in his face. I swallowed back my own reticence and nodded. Fine. If he wanted to throw down, we’d throw down. But I wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

  The door finally creaked open and a blast of cold air hit us in the face. I shivered, not because I was cold, but because a normal woman in the getup I was wearing would. Cayman stepped through first and the rest of us followed, with Gregorios stepping bringing up the rear. The second the door clicked into place I acted, twisting our unfortunate guide into a headlock and shuffling backward into the blindspot.

  “Now what were you saying about Iron Heart again?” I whispered into his ear. “You’re lucky I’m not as bloodthirsty as your imagination.”

  He struggled rather pitifully against my strength and I held him there, listening to the patterns of his breathing, releasing him once it settled into a shallower cadence. He slumped to the floor with a wince-worthy crack as his head impacted the floor.

  By the time I rejoined the others, they’d already fanned out, walking the aisles of thick display cases, peering inside. I found Dom waiting by a large case that contained a mesmerizing sheet of glittering gold cloth.

  “It’s the Golden Fleece. It’s just incredible,” he breathed. “You know most of us always thought it was a myth? Its magic is still debated among scholars.”

  I pressed urgently at his shoulder, urging him past the display case. “Fascinating, Dom, really. But we’ve got fifteen minutes until the doors open and probably less before they release the knockout gas. We have to find that thread, so we can get the timing right. Like right the hell now.”

  Dom nodded absently and then strode forward, commenting on each item as we passed it, as though he just couldn’t help it. In other circumstances, I would have teased him about his encyclopedic knowledge of each artifact. But right now I was just counting on him to be able to identify the Thread of Ariadne if we found it.

  Still, despite my desire to get to the thread, several objects caught my attention. There was a huge, bloodstained sickle that Dom called the Harpe. Apparently the titan Kronos had used it to castrate his father Uranus, and because of that single act, it now contained the blood of one of the most powerful sky deities in existence. The magical energy coming off of it made my skin prickle.

  There was a half-melted wing, with mechanical gold gears and soft black feathers, laid out like a broken bird in one case. I didn’t need Dom’s commentary to know it had to have belonged to Icarus or that the tools laid out nearby were the property of his father, Daedalus.

  The objects and their names flew by in fast-motion. The armor of Achilles, the Aegis, the pelt of the Nemean lion, draped beneath all of Hercules’ other weaponry. Ewan lingered overlong near that one, staring at it with a speculative glint in his eye. I rushed past, finally spotting what we’d come for.

  It looked almost comically small
after the larger-than-life objects that belonged to all the male mages in this vault. There was something to be gleaned from that if you were willing to examine it for more than three seconds. The only object belonging to a woman was an innocuous item, connected to her trade. And yet, it had thwarted an interdimensional maze and delivered the only man she’d loved to safety. He would have died in that maze without her. So was the thread mightier than the sword, in this case?

  The philosophical implications were beyond my pay grade. I made a beeline for it, stopping just shy of the case. The spool of thread glowed a pearly white beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.

  “How do we get it out?” I wondered. “Did Gregorios tell you, Cayman?”

  I craned my neck to get a good look at the shaman. He shrugged. “We’re going to sound the alarms and some point or another. We’ll have to risk it.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Ewan said, before shoving his entire arm through the case containing Hercules’ weapons. The glass shattered into a million pieces, jabbing into Ewan’s arm. If he noticed he paid it no mind, scooping up the lion’s pelt in one fluid move. He draped it over his shoulders in that prep-school style that had always annoyed me as a teen. On Ewan, it was just plain obnoxious. I knew from Dom’s brief rundown that anywhere that pelt touched would make the wearer invulnerable.

  He slung the quiver of arrows around one arm and then shoved the sword through one of his belt loops with a smile. I just stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe my eyes. He’d just stolen all of Hercules’ treasures. I’d expected him to cheat, but I hadn’t imagined it would be like this, stealing something so obviously invaluable in one of the most delicate missions we’d ever performed.

  The sickly sweet smell caught my attention and I came back to life, quickly pulling my wrap off of my shoulders. I stood on tiptoe, wrapping it around Dom’s nose and mouth before he could breathe in any of the methyl propyl ether now seeping into the room. I held my breath, just to make sure I wouldn’t be incapacitated as well.