by Kim Harrison
“These heels are killing me,” I muttered to Jenks when I got to the top and the security guy cracked open the door for me.
“Relax, Rache. You’re sweating.”
Yes, I was sweating. I didn’t like this. I had abducted a woman and was pretending to be her. It was daylight. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that Nick was somewhere watching me.
“Hey! Hi! I’m late!” I said cheerfully, trying to match Barbie’s bouncy attitude when I reached the door. “Some witch spilled her coffee all over me and I had to go home and change.”
Larry—by his name tag—smiled and held the door as I slid in before him. “You got five minutes,” he said, and I hesitated just inside the echoing space. Crap, I’d forgotten which one he was supposed to get.
“You’d better hustle, though,” the man said, eyes alight as he took one of the tall, no-nonsense black coffees. “Bull is on the warpath.”
My brief relief that he knew which was which died. Bull? I thought, then juggled the remaining coffee to get my ID to show. “Thanks for the heads-up,” I said, rolling my eyes because it seemed the right thing to do.
“Thank you.” He hoisted the coffee in salute, hiding it behind his security podium when a masculine shout echoed from somewhere deep inside.
I gave him a last smile, then turned away, heart pounding. Barbie worked the information/security stand just across the lobby, but there were two, and I wasn’t sure which one to go to. The elevator to the basement was through the Great Hall, but there was a stairway across from Larry’s post that only the employees, and their ex-girlfriends, knew about. My heels clacked on the marble floor, and I angled to the woman watching me from the information booth. I was willing to bet that was Susan.
“Barb!” a high, masculine voice called, and I smiled at Susan when our eyes met.
Jenks’s wings tickled my neck. “Ah, Barbie?” he prompted, and that first call registered.
Feeling out of control, I spun to the guy in the tweed vest hanging out of the museum gift shop. “Girl, where’s my chai!” he called good-naturedly, and I reversed my direction. I was guessing this was Frank.
“Sorry!” I gushed as I hustled to him, my voice raised in the echoing space as Jenks darted off my shoulder, zipping up and into the ductwork to find the main security junction. “I am so ditzy this morning. Some witch at Jun—ah, at Mark’s spilled her coffee all over me and I had to run home to change. I haven’t been able to think two straight thoughts in a row since!”
Frank took the chai tea, a smile on his face. “Thank God . . . ,” he drawled, running an eye up and down my outfit. “That swill they serve in the cafeteria sucks. Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t wear black more often. It’s classic, and with that figure of yours, you can get away with it. Go on now. You’d better make with the busywork. He’s on the warpath. Some tight-ass is jerking his chain, and we peons get the horns.”
My smile took on an honest warmth as he took a sip, waving me off. “Thanks,” I said, guessing they had a good friendship, and he smiled right back and sipped his drink.
“Damn, girl!” he exclaimed dramatically. “How did you get it here so hot!”
Larry was opening the doors to the public as I hustled to the last woman. Her polyester navy-blue suit with a white blouse screamed tour guide, and her eyebrows were high at my black outfit. “Susan,” I blurted before she could say anything. “Oh my God! You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had.” Nervous, I slid behind the counter, praying I was doing this right. “How’s the Bull?”
Susan took the pumpkin latte, and I exhaled in relief, glad I got to keep the straight-up black. “He’s on fire,” she said, making an mmm of appreciation and wiping the foam from her lips. “Something about that new elf exhibit. Thanks, this is good this morning. Black is a new look for you. What’s up?”
I shrugged, not wanting to sit down and claim the space until I knew it was mine. “A witch dumped her coffee on me. You like the purse?” I lifted my shoulder bag for her inspection. “It doesn’t match, but I was in a hurry.” Susan shrugged, and I set my bag on the counter beside my coffee. “Elf exhibit?” I prompted, scanning the security cameras at the ceiling for Jenks’s dust. We’d had zero time to plan this, and though I liked working by the seat of my pants, I didn’t want everything to come tumbling down because of new security.
Coffee in hand, Susan eyed the first people coming in. “Something about the security not being adequate. Here they come. Is it Friday yet?”
“Don’t push it,” I whispered. Hand to my middle, I fell back, not wanting to do a tour. Just inside the door were two moms and three kids. They were getting their strollers and diaper bags arranged as the kids hooted, listening to their voices echo. Behind them, Larry gave Ivy’s sketch bag a cursory glance. She got the all-clear, and the stately woman strode by the young moms with their kids with a tight-jawed stance at the lack of planning, but under it was a wistful need.
“I don’t feel so good,” I said, still standing behind the information counter as if I belonged. Susan seemed to think I did, and I was going to go with it.
“You look awful,” Susan said, eyeing me in concern. “Sit, will you? You’re making me nervous. I’ll take the first tour.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, sinking down.
“And while you’re there, organize the brochures, will you?” she added cheerfully, grabbing a map and going out to meet the moms, now trying to get their kids and move forward.
I gave her a sour look when she simpered at me over her shoulder. It was the right thing to do, apparently. Ivy was gone, and I looked to the hallway that led to the stairs and employee break room. I was anxious for Jenks to get back. The less I had to play tour guide Barbie, the better.
“Good morning!” Susan said, maps in hand as she approached the two women. “We’re gathering a tour up in the Great Hall if you’re interested. It takes about forty minutes and is free. I’ll be along in about five minutes if you want to wait.”
Jenks dropped down, scaring the crap out of me, and I coughed to hide my surprise. “Ivy is setting up beside the elevator that will take her down to the basement,” he said, grinning because he had made me jump. “I’m going to trip an alarm in the courtyard. Don’t go until it trips the second time. Got it?”
“Second alarm, got it,” I said, waving his dust away before Susan turned and saw it.
“Soon as you’re downstairs, I’ll do a flyby for your ID and take the elevator up for Ivy.”
It wasn’t a bad plan, but I knew the maybes were driving Ivy crazy. “Got it. Second alarm. Go!” I hissed as Susan gave up on the two women and started back, maps smacking her thigh.
Giving me a thumbs-up, Jenks dropped down below the level of the counter and flew off at ankle height, his sparkles making a brief flash against the marble floor.
“Any bets?” Susan leaned against the counter like a tired tourist. I stared at her blankly, and she looked at her watch and added, “If I get out of here before Bull shows up?”
“Ahh . . .” I hedged, and she leaned to look down the hallway and into the Great Hall.
“Damn, they aren’t going to wait,” she said, dropping back a step. “Barb, I’m going to go snag them. I do not want to be sitting here for the next hour. If anyone else comes in, send them down. I’ll keep them in the Great Hall until the tour is supposed to start.”
I made a face as if I was going to protest, and then an irritating whine of an alarm shrilled into existence. My pulse quickened, and I spun the fake rings on my fingers. “Go,” I said, wanting to be out of here. “It’s probably nothing.” She hesitated, and I added, “You’re going to lose them.”
Her breath a quick exhale, she reached over the counter and grabbed a tour guide flag. “Thanks. I owe you.”
Her heels click-clacked away, just as the alarm cut out. “No, thank you,” I said dryly, then waved to Frank standing at the opening to the gift shop. He abruptly ducked inside, and I spun my chair to see three men s
triding importantly through the lobby and toward the café. One was in a suit and tie, one in a security uniform, and the third was maintenance. Way to go, Jenks!
“Barb!” the man in the suit exclaimed when we made eye contact, his pace never slowing. “I want to talk to you. Where’s Sue?”
I spun my chair nonchalantly. “Tour,” I said, scanning the ceiling for pixy dust.
“Don’t go anywhere.” His head dropped and he barked into a handheld radio, “I want an answer now, not in five minutes!”
Just as they vanished into the corridor, the alarm began again. I smiled at the masculine, PG-13 swearing. Frank was laughing. I could see him shaking through the glass walls.
It was time to go, and I grabbed my shoulder bag and dropped the BACK IN FIVE MINUTES sign on the counter. “Bathroom!” I mouthed to Frank when he noticed, and he nodded and went back to testing out the headphones for the “soothing sounds” display.
Alarm still shrieking, I angled to the employees’ restroom, waving to Larry and heading down the cold stairwell to run Barb’s card through the reader at the bottom.
Cement walls painted white and a tile floor put down in the 1960s met me, grimed in the corners and looking like they hadn’t been washed in five years. Heart pounding, I fingered the doppelgänger charm in my pocket, eager to get rid of it. My heels were noisy, and I passed the break room trying to be quiet when I heard the hum of a microwave.
“Barb!” someone shouted, stopping me cold.
Shit. “Yeah?”
“Bull is looking for you.”
I exhaled. “Why do you think I’m down here?”
Whoever it was laughed, and I hustled down the corridor, taking my heels off as I went and stuffing them in my shoulder bag. I had a rough idea where the show was being stored, and I wove through the maze, thankful that Nick had given me the grand tour.
The sound of Jenks’s wings slowly became obvious. “How long we got?” I said when he hummed around a corner, taking it tight so his dust made a wide arc.
“Depends how long that alarm stays on,” he said, and as if mentioning it had been the trigger, it went off. “Seven minutes,” he muttered. “Where’s the elven crap?”
“We should have done this at night,” I said, as he flew off faster than I could run.
“They have dogs at night!” he said, hovering before a pane of glass for a second before going to the next.
The floors now had carpet squares, and air smelled like lemons instead of tuna fish. We were close, and I fingered Barb’s ID. “I like dogs,” I said, peeking into the room though Jenks already had. “Dogs and I get along great.” Seven minutes? It was going to be close.
“Rache!”
Three doors down, he was dusting heavily, and I jogged forward. Before I even got there, he had darted under the door. I looked past the glass to see long tables covered with artifacts in cases ready for display. My heart pounded.
“Got it!” Jenks sang out. “Run your card!”
Smug, I ran my card, and the door clicked open. Barb wasn’t cleared to be down here, but thanks to Jenks, the door’s security system was recording the last number that had been used.
“Go,” I said as I went in, my fingers already unhooking the lanyard to lighten the load. Jenks snatched it, his flight bobbling as he headed down the hallway to the elevators. I didn’t like separating like this, but if all went well, Ivy would join us soon.
“Like clockwork,” I said as I shut the door behind him and turned. Riffletic, I thought as I scanned the room for the rings. I needed the pair donated by Riffletic. They were perfect, and probably exactly what Riffletic’s estate said they were, seeing as I had found two confirmations of it in Trent’s books. Crap, I’d forgotten to take those back this morning.
I took the doppelgänger charm off, shuddering as I felt the magic leave me. I smiled when I saw the rings were all together in one case, and I scanned the little cards under each one, concentrating on the few that had pairs of rings. Slowly my smile drained away. No Riffletic.
Concerned, I paced through the entire exhibit, thinking that such valuable rings as elven wedding bands might have been given their own case. Statues, books, pictures, and even an ancient tea set, but no more rings.
“Son of a bitch!” I whispered, hearing the sound of soft-soled shoes in the hallway, then pausing when I spotted two of the three tarot cards I’d once seen hanging in Trent’s great room. Had the Riffletic family pulled their rings from the show upon hearing I wanted them?
The card reader beeped, and annoyed, I spun to the door. “Where are Riffletic’s rings?” I asked Ivy as she came in, then froze when I realized it wasn’t Ivy.
A smallish woman in a businesslike skirt and lab coat was standing there, staring at me. Her glasses were thick, and she had a folder in her hand and a sketch of what looked like a gallery. “Who are you?” she said, clearly affronted. “You’re not supposed to be down here.”
Crap on toast! I thought, scrambling, then decided to play it to the hilt. “I said, where are Riffletic’s rings?” I repeated tartly, wishing I had a clipboard or something. A clipboard and a hard hat could get you just about anywhere. “I flew all the way here to pick up some stupid rings, and I don’t see them. Who are you?”
Head tilted, the woman eyed me suspiciously. “I’m Marcie. I’m arranging the displays for the show. And Riffletic’s rings have already been picked up.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” I said, hand slapping my thigh as if she was being stupid. “If Riffletic’s rings are not on display, then the Cumberland estate wants their pieces back as well.”
The woman frowned, and I added with a sniff, “There seems to be some question as to the safety of your facility. My God, I got down here with no problem at all.”
Marcie looked at her open file folder. “I don’t have a record of any Cumberland pieces.”
“You lost our rings? What kind of rinky-dink museum are you!”
“We are one of the oldest art museums in the United States,” she said hotly. “Don’t move.” Never taking her eyes off me, she backed up to a landline phone. It looked like it had been down here since they put the carpet squares in.
“Me moving will not be an issue. I’m not leaving until I have the rings in my possession,” I said, haughty. Damn it, Ivy, where are you? “I can’t believe you misplaced them.”
“Who did you say you were?” she asked, and we both looked up as the door beeped.
Ivy, I thought in relief, then choked when Nick walked in, cool and calm in a pinstripe gray suit and a blue tie. I almost didn’t recognize him with his hair slicked back and his shiny shoes. Because of him, Ceri and Pierce are dead. It was all I could do not to crawl over the tables between us. I clenched my teeth when our eyes met and he smiled.
The woman set the receiver back in the cradle. “And who are you?” she asked, pushing her glasses farther up her nose.
He beamed, reaching behind his coat for his wallet. “Nick Sparagmos. FIB,” he said, and I couldn’t help my bark of laughter. “Thank God you found her,” he added, grimacing at me and flipping his wallet open to show an ID. He closed it before Marcie could do more than lean to look, stuffing it away where he’d gotten it from. “Hands in fists on the top of your head,” he said to me. “Don’t make this hard on yourself.”
Why, are we surrounded? I thought sourly, but he was between me and the door. Ku’Sox might drop into him, and then I’d be banned from the museum for blowing it up or setting it on fire, or . . . something. I slid away from the table I was leaning against. “You touch me, and you die, Nick.” Damn it, how was I going to get the rings now? Not only were they gone, but if I took my second choice, he’d know and tell Ku’Sox.
The woman looked from me to Nick. “Someone better tell me what’s going on,” she threatened, and I leaned back, gesturing for Nick to say something, dying to find out, myself.
“This is Le’Arch, the notorious art thief from the United Kingdom,” Nick said, pointing
at me as he came in. “Have you searched her yet?”
“Oh. My. God,” I said, not sure I’d heard him right. “Nick, please tell me you did not just make an anagram of my name. Please. Just please.”
His jaw clenched, and he took another step forward. He was almost far enough from the door that I had a good chance of making it through, but without the rings—which were not even here anymore—I was dead anyway. “She has a history of claiming to be agents of big corporations and walking away with priceless artifacts,” he said, and the woman’s hand came away from the phone.
How long had he been listening at the door, and where in hell were Jenks and Ivy?
Well, Nick wasn’t the only one who could tell pretty stories. “Marcie, this jerk is my old boyfriend. He doesn’t work for the FIB, and he’s been stalking me all week. The man is a thief.”
Nick stiffened. “I’m a thief?” he said, looking odd in his new clothes as he advanced another step. “I’m not the one stealing ancient elven artifacts to break the ley lines. You are a menace, and I’m trying to stop you.”
“How dare you blame me for that!” I shouted. “I’m trying to stop him!” His jaw clenched, and I turned to Marcie. The woman hadn’t picked up the phone, but she was ready to. “Marcie, I’m sorry,” I said, still trying to turn this into a stalker boyfriend issue. “I’m going to file a restraining order as soon as I get out of here. He doesn’t work for the FIB, and he’s lying to you to get me in trouble with my boss. If I don’t get those rings out of here, I’m a dead woman.” True enough.
Nick made an exasperated sound when Marcie looked at him with doubt, starting to believe me. “Neither of you move.”
“Has she taken any pieces yet?” Nick said, but it sounded desperate. “What rings did she ask after?”
Marci’s eyes narrowed, her belief swinging back to him. “Riffletic’s.”
Nick leaned to see the ring case. “There’s a pair missing.”
