by Unknown
“Which god did you trade it to?” Fiona asked. Fiona looked like she was about to reach across the table and strangle Logan.
“I don’t know,” Logan said.
“How the hell do you no’ know?” Fiona’s jaw was so tense Ian was afraid she’d pull a muscle.
“I made the deal through a broker. Neither the god nor I want anyone to know what we have.”
“Shite,” Fiona said.
“You can assume that whoever is trying to get the book doesn’t just want it for his library,” Logan said.
“So we have to beat the mystery god to the book,” Ian said.
Logan nodded. “Whoever it is has no idea the museum is enchanted, so he’ll likely send an envoy to recover it. Demons or other rogue Mytheans who don’t give a damn about the havoc their actions will wreak. They’ll expect to break in and have the book in no longer than it takes to walk through the museum.”
Ian nodded. It was a good plan. Not foolproof, as his and Logan’s enchantments were no doubt warped after lying fallow and would be difficult even for him to get through, but it was a solid plan. They just had to beat the god’s envoys and get the book first. Then Ian could steal it and threaten to destroy it unless Fiona removed his collar.
He wouldn’t have a chance to speak privately to Logan, but it was clear this was his friend’s way of getting him out of the university prison.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
CHAPTER THREE
Shite, shite, shite. Fiona hurried out of the pub behind Ian, Logan’s pronouncement sending her heart into overdrive.
“There’s a hell of a lot more at stake than I expected,” Ian said as he squeezed into her little car.
Life as we know it. But she couldn’t find her voice as she cranked the key in the ignition. She’d hoped it wouldn’t be so dire. That she could just get into the museum and take it. “I’m going to have to warn the university. Damn it.”
“Why?”
“It’s too damn risky. We’ll do our best to get it, but if we fail, there needs to be backup. But it’ll take them time to put together a team.”
“You really think that’s neccessary?”
“You heard what he said in there. I want that book”—her voice shook—“but no’ enough to risk divine war if I fail. They need to at least know about it.”
“Why do you want it so badly?” Ian asked as they peeled out of the lot and headed down the road back toward the university and Edinburgh beyond.
“Ten years ago, it was prophesied that I would be the one to find the Book of Worlds. It’s been lost for so long, and I was the chosen one. Fated to find the Book of Worlds and bring it back to safe hands at the university. But I never found it. Everywhere I looked, everything I tried—none of it worked. Dead-end after dead-end. It’s unheard of for an Acquirer. It’s been years since I was supposed to find it. I’m a Failte.” One who’d failed her fate. Not only had the failure gotten her blacklisted at her job because she was an Acquirer who couldn’t find things, she carried the same ugly title that her father had carried. They’d once been an illustrious family of Acquirers, until he’d gone mad after failing his fate. She blinked hard to erase the memories of the past and bring the dark road into focus. “This is my only chance to get the book back and prove that I dinna fail my fate. If I doona, I’ll go mad like my father.”
“Shite.”
“Exactly.” Fate was everything in their world. Failing hers meant that she’d eventually go insane, because her subconscious would continually be trying to fulfill her destiny. “My father could no’ find the sword of St. Eidyn, and it eventually drove him mad, as it does to all Failtes. It ruined our family name. He ended up stealing the artifacts he was supposed to be handing over to the university and hoarding them. Eventually they threw him in prison because they could no’ control him. I’m the same. The worst kind of failure.”
“No’ for long.”
She shot him an appraising glance. All of a sudden, she quite liked him. And he was right. This would be her redemption. The university thought her fate was played out. That she’d tried to fulfill it and failed.
They were wrong. The chance she’d been waiting for, searching for, was finally here. She was going to get her old life back. Before she went insane in this one.
“We’re heading into town,” Fiona said. “I’ve rented us a flat across from the museum. Just a holiday place for short-term lets. I expected us to have more time to do this. To plan our entry to the museum.” She’d even hired a cat-sitter for Fluffy Black, her cat. Now it looked like they’d have to go in tonight.
Her phone shrieked, and she jumped. She fished it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.
Her stomach dropped to her feet. Darrence. Her boss. Had Cerus and Francis told him they’d seen her near the prison? Shite. She could be fired for this if they caught her before she retrieved the book. Retrieving it would give her a get out of jail free card. But not retrieving it? She’d lose the job she was so desperately fighting for. Worse, if they stopped her, she’d lose the opportunity to be the one to find the book and save her sanity.
With a shaky hand, she mashed the End button and returned her attention to the road.
“I’m going to call Lea.” She pushed buttons on her little phone while glancing up occasionally. “Lea? This problem with the Book of Worlds is worse than we thought.”
Ian listened with half an ear as Fiona explained to Lea what Logan had told them. The telephone she used was so tiny—even odder, it had no wires connecting it to anything. He shook his head. The world had changed very much indeed.
While Fiona talked on her tiny phone, he looked around the vehicle, noticing anew how modern and small the car was. He was so close to her he could smell her soap, clean and fresh and very suited to her no-nonsense personality.
The car sped through the dark night, and he marveled at freedom. And how different the world was, though he’d barely seen any of it. He needed the book to bargain with if he wanted to make this permanent. But when she’d said that she was the worst kind of failure, he’d been dumb enough to say no’ for long. If he stole the book from her, he’d be screwing her. And he liked her. Damn it.
But he didn’t have a choice. The thought hardened his resolve.
As they drove, the country road turned to suburb and then to city street. Suddenly, there were flashes of dozens—no, hundreds—of lights hitting him in the face.
“Jesus,” he breathed. Cars streamed by on the other side of the road. Nothing at the university or the pub—besides the cars—had looked terribly different than it had in 1916. But Edinburgh…
Fiona continued to talk into the phone while she swerved in and out of traffic. Ian’s eyes ate up the changes to Edinburgh as she neared Old Town. His gut clenched at the sight of the familiar old buildings.
He’d made a point to stay out of this part of town once he’d escaped it as a child. The construction of the Scottish Museum of Antiquities in the early nineteenth century had been the only thing that could drag him back, but only for brief visits to add to his collection.
Fiona dropped her little phone into her lap and said, “Right. Lea said that she has to alert the rest of the university to the fact that a god is after the book.” She swerved to the side of the road and tucked her car neatly into the little space between a lorry and a motorbike. The museum rose tall on the other side of the street. “Here we are.”
“What’s your plan then?” he asked when they got out of the car. He sucked in the cold winter air. Even city air tasted fresher than the air of the prison or Moloch. He wanted to tear the collar off and disappear down the street.
“Try to get it before they do. It’ll take at least a day for them to compile a team. I want to be the one to find the book. I have to be. I did what’s right and told them about it, but my department thinks I’m a failure and a jinx because I’m a Failte. They doona trust me to go after it and would yank me off this case and shove me back into the stacks
. So we go in tonight.”
“I like how you think.” Less supervision by the university meant he’d have no trouble snatching the book from her and bartering for the removal of his collar. He stifled the twinge of guilt he felt at putting her in such a shite situation. But it had to be done.
He followed her across the rain-darkened sidewalk toward the brick building that loomed in front of them. People rushed by on their way to pubs or home, but it felt like he and Fiona were an island unto themselves. After so long in prison, he craved the intimacy of that connection as much as he feared it.
Damn it. He couldn’t let her distract him.
Ian followed Fiona up the stairs, his gaze riveted to her form and the trousers that molded to it. Christ, the way women dressed these days. The way the clothes moved on her body, clinging to curves and muscles, sent a jolt of lust through him. His palms itched to touch her. With an internal curse, he dragged his eyes away.
He’d done everything he could to keep from turning into an animal in prison. No way he was going to let some tight trousers turn him into a slavering beast now that he was free.
I am no’ an animal, damn it.
But damned if she didn’t make him feel like one. He’d been going mad in prison, driven insane by the misery of repetition and constant toil. The lack of freedom to decide his fate had been nearly unbearable. Then she’d opened the door and let in the light. She’d led him out. Of course he couldn’t keep his mind off her.
Finally, they reached the top floor and Fiona unlocked the door to flat 7A. It swung open and they entered the small space.
Ian glanced around. Kitchen and living room combination on one side and a small hall that led to a bath and two bedrooms on the other side. The kitchen was strange as hell and vastly different from the ones he’d seen before. There was a low hum of the electric appliances. The prison had electric lights, but other than that, not much had changed there since he’d been incarcerated.
“No’ bad for a base,” Fiona said and dropped her bag onto the couch.
Though the hum of the appliances was unsettling, he liked how different it was from the prison. He could get used to modern conveniences. He followed her to the window. The view of the huge, ornate building that housed the Scottish Museum of Antiquities made his blood run faster. His fists clenched like a junkie’s in need of a fix.
He’d missed the rush of thieving while he’d been in prison, more than he’d ever expected. It was the thrill that had sent him back to it time and again, even after his fortune had grown ridiculously large. On the black market, it took time to turn artifacts into money. Eventually he’d had such a backlog of artifacts that he knew he’d never need to steal again. Added to what he had in the banks, stealing was just an unnecessary risk.
But he’d done it all the same. For the love of it. For the security his fortune brought him. His wealth kept him comfortable in the knowledge that he’d never have to return to his roots. Except he had, in a way. He’d been thrown into prison, and it had been worse than anything he’d suffered as a boy.
He scowled at the memory. “We’ll go now. It’s after ten. The back alley should be empty at this hour.”
“Agreed.” She walked to the bag she’d brought, pulled out two long daggers, and slipped them into sheaths that had been built into her tall boots. She shoved a small leather case into the pocket of her jacket.
“Do you have another?” he asked.
She raised a brow. “You expect me to give you a weapon? You’re a criminal.”
“I’m good with a knife, lassie. If we run into the rogue gods or his demons, you’re going to want me at your back.”
Her cool gray eyes assessed him. “Fine. I have a spare.”
She dug another sheathed knife out of the bottom of her bag and handed it over. It was identical to the ones she’d slipped into her boots. It seemed Fiona liked to be prepared.
He put it into the pocket of his jacket and asked, “Do you have lockpicks?”
She gave him a don’t be an idiot look and patted her jacket pocket.
“Good.” He followed her out the door and down the stairs, his eyes glued to her arse. After so long alone in that miserable prison, his cock hardened just looking at her. Hell, all the protestations in the world that he wasn’t an animal wouldn’t keep his eyes in check around Fiona.
They slipped out into the cold January air. Biting wind cut through the black night. The museum loomed across the street, an ornate gargoyle of a building that contained the treasures of the ages. Anticipation and a sense of endless possibility zipped through him. The museum, his for the taking. A battle of wit and wills that he would win.
He was free of that damned prison.
Though obnoxious, the collar was nothing compared to the cell. To the lack of control he’d had over his life. But that was about to change. He’d get the book and use it to barter for his freedom. The university couldn’t be trusted to spit on you if you were on fire. They sure as hell wouldn’t free him when this was all over.
“This way.” Fiona set off across the street and he followed.
Noise from the pubs spilled out into the street, and darkened storefronts watched them silently. Gleaming streetlamps marched their way down the sidewalk and cut through the dark night.
Instead of approaching the grand museum entrance on the left, they turned right, toward the alley. Ian took the lead, pleased that Edinburgh hadn’t changed much since he’d last been free. A few tourist shops now dotted the first floors of the towering old buildings between the pubs and shops, but the layout was the same.
They dodged a group of drunken lads stumbling to the next pub and turned into the alley. The light dropped instantly, a black gloom overtaking the narrow cobbled space.
“Come on, the door is at the back,” he said.
They crept along, their footsteps silent, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by Fiona’s stealth. She was an Acquirer, basically a thief who had permission to steal, so she would be good at sneaking about. Shame she never kept what she found. Too many morals or something.
A rustling noise made the back of Ian’s neck prickle. He stopped, and Fiona pulled to a halt behind him. His muscles tensed as he waited for another sound.
There. Another rustle. Had the god’s envoys beaten them to the museum? Fiona stepped forward. He reached behind and pressed a hand to her stomach, staying her. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran up his arm at the feel of her soft warmth beneath his palm.
A moan filtered through the alley and Fiona tensed beneath his hand. He barely perceived her reaching into her boot to withdraw her dagger.
The moan sounded again, this time louder and clearer. His gaze snapped toward the sound and he saw two figures pressed against the wall near the museum’s small private entrance.
Holy fuck. Two people were having sex. His blood rushed even as annoyance surged through him. Had he not been locked up for nearly a century, no doubt he’d have only felt annoyance.
He stepped forward to break up the party, but Fiona’s hand clamped on his arm.
“Nay,” she hissed. “I doona want them knowing our faces.”
He turned back. “What?”
“In case something goes wrong at the museum. I doona want a trail that leads back to us. Come on.” She pulled his arm. “We’ll wait it out in this doorway.”
His jaw clenched, but he let her lead him toward an inset doorway. They had about two feet of cubbyhole in which to hide, so he stepped onto the stoop behind her and tucked himself into the shadows. They stood so close together that he could feel the heat of her against him.
He stiffened, unable to keep his cock from following suit. It’d been too damn long.
The noises from the alley increased. Damn drunken idiots.
Fiona whispered from behind him, “You’re a Historious. Why’d you turn to stealing? You could have worked for the university as an Acquirer, like me.”
His head whipped around. “What?”
&nb
sp; “I doona get it. You could have had a nice life and never gotten arrested.” She sounded genuinely perplexed.
He sure as hell could use a distraction from the couple in the alley, so he answered. “The only way to get a nice life is to build it for yourself. No way in hell was the university going to get it for me.”
“Why no’? You’ve got the skills. They’d have hired you.”
“I’m no’ a joiner. I grew up on the streets of Edinburgh, a half-breed Mythean orphan who had no one and nothing.”
“You never knew who your parents were?”
“Nay. It took me years to figure out there were others like me, and years more to piece together that I’m half Sylph and half Historius.” It’d taken years of research to figure out he’d gotten his invisibility from his Sylph parent, and a bloodhound’s sense for the location of valuable artifacts from his Historious parent. The ability to work spells had come shortly after he’d frozen into his immortality around thirty. But who his parents were, he had no idea.
“I’m sorry.”
“Doona be.”
“So you turned out to be a thief,” she said. “You use your powers to steal history.”
Cold pierced him and he felt a pinch in his chest. Confused, he rubbed over his heart. “You doona like that.”
“No’ too fond of it.”
“I only stole from those who could afford it.” He found that he wanted her to think well of him. It felt weird as hell to care what anyone else thought, especially someone from the university.
“I doona know that I agree with that. You specialized in ancient artifacts, right?”
“Aye. Their owners were dead. What did they care?” The noise from the couple in the alley picked up, and he tried to focus on Fiona. It wasn’t difficult. She smelled so damn good.
“Maybe so. But ancient artifacts belong in museums, to the descendants of those who’d made them. To modern people who can learn from them. They’re our past, evidence of where we’ve come from. They shouldn’t be hidden away by wealthy individuals who can afford to buy them on the black market.” Though she whispered, passion rang in her voice. She really believed this stuff. She had a commitment to something bigger than herself.
