I dressed slowly. I didn’t want to leave my room. Somehow, leaving meant that the day had started. But if I stayed here, secure in my small pile of blankets, I could keep time at bay.
If only it were true.
****
Breakfast was strange. Phillip came, still in his work clothes, looking like he’d fall over any moment. Colonel Worthington seemed to sense my anxiety and was overly perky from the moment we sat down.
Even Phillip looked at him like he was slightly mad.
“Are you certain you don’t need to take a break?” I asked Phillip one more time as he shoveled a fried egg into his mouth.
A few quick chews and he shook his head. “Honest, Gennie, I’m fine. A little tired, but when I’m finished, I’ll take a day’s worth of naps.” He smiled again. “Don’t fuss so much. I’m enjoying myself.”
I shook my head. “Glad I could be useful then.”
He pushed away from the table. “I’ve got to get back to it. I’ll see you all a little later. Gennie, come down around ten-thirty. It should be done by then.”
I knew my eyes were like saucers. “Ten-thirty? Tonight?”
He nodded.
“Cutting it a little close aren’t we?”
He shrugged. “It was either take the extra time or mess up the lock. Didn’t have a choice. Besides,” he winked. “What kind of an adventure would it be if you had tons of time to examine it? You’ll be so awestruck when you take it to Spiros tonight, you won’t have any time to doubt me.”
He sauntered out, whistling.
“He has a point, you know. You’d worry yourself into a frenzy if he had it sooner. As it is you’re nervous enough for all of us.” The curator chuckled and relaxed in his chair.
My cheeks burned. “I can’t help it.”
He nodded. “We know. But you shouldn’t worry so much. Everything will come out just as it should.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t bring myself to do more than nibble at the food on my plate. My stomach was churning and I feared eating too much would just make it worse. All I needed on top of everything else was to be sick.
“Go down to the crates. That should help you pass some time.”
“I suppose so. I’ll think about it.”
Cleaning up from breakfast, I decided to take his suggestion. Turning around, drying my hands on a tea towel, I sighed. “I think I will go down to the storeroom. If you need anything, let me know.”
He nodded once, flipping another page in his newspaper. As I turned the door handle he cleared his throat and called my name. Colonel Worthington leaned forward, watching me from under his spiky, white brow.
“If something untoward should happen, Gennie, you must promise me to get away from here as quick as you can.”
I froze. “But if you’re hurt—”
He shook his head. “No. Phillip and I, even Walter, can take care of ourselves. If you end up in Kreios’ hands with that box, then everything will have been for nothing. Promise me.”
Crossing my arms, I glowered. “Why is it that everyone wants me to promise to run? I’m not a coward, and I’m not as weak as everyone thinks.”
“Ah, Genevieve. I don’t think your weak, my girl. I know many others who could never have survived what you have. But you need to run from this in order to fight a bigger battle later. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”
My nose burned, and my voice came out in a whisper. “Fine. I promise. But I don’t like it.”
The curator snapped his newspaper back up. “Thank you.”
He didn’t say anything else, but I could see that his shoulders seemed less stiff. Some of the tension had eased out of his body.
Shaking my head, I left, heading for the storeroom. On my way through the Greek and Roman room, a few of the artifacts stopped me. Even they could pick up on the tension in the air. Some of the more sentient ones wanted to know why it smelled like the calm before a battle. I answered them as best I could, but it shook me more than I wanted to admit. Battle was the last thing I wanted.
I stayed in the storeroom until dinner. Thomason came promptly at six, waiting patiently as I finished speaking with the canopic jar I had been avoiding for days. He’d had interesting things to say, but some of it was unsettling. He kept talking about duty and hidden secrets within secrets and making implications that I should be careful for such things myself.
Ridiculous, right? As I walked out, trailed by Thomason, I had to wonder if this time the artifacts knew more about the future than I did.
Dinner was a quiet but pleasant affair. I made a conscious effort to push away any worries or thoughts of what could go wrong. Everyone avoided the topic of the evening. No one wanted to think on the possibilities. You could go mad doing that. Something in me had relaxed as the hour drew closer. For better or worse, this was it. Whatever happened, it would be done with. I could only hope for the best. It eased the knot of apprehension in my gut enough to get through the meal.
After we had finished, Phillip produced a beautiful molasses pie from Miss Violet and cut everyone generous portions.
“She brings me these things two or three days a week. I’ve got to start sharing them, or I’m going to start looking like Walter.” Phillip joked as I moaned over the sugary goodness that melted in my mouth.
“I’ll take some off your hands anytime.” I told him, digging into the pie.
Colonel Worthington mumbled something of the same effect around the bite in his mouth.
“How much longer, Phillip?” The curator asked when we were all leaning back in our chairs, sated and full.
“Same time as this morning. Ten-thirty, give or take a few minutes. Don’t worry. I’ll be ready.”
I nodded and he rose, heading back out the door. The man had to have been feeling bone tired, but it didn’t show.
“He’s thrilled to get the change to work on something so complicated. Don’t think it’s an inconvenience. Believe me, he’s enjoying himself more than he has in a while,” Colonel Worthington said with a smile.
“I didn’t think I was so transparent,” I told him.
He shrugged. “It takes awhile, but when you aren’t guarding your expression, you’re very easy to read.”
I frowned. “I’m not sure I like that.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone your secret.”
I smiled and then leaned back in the chair. The flames in the hearth sputtered and crackled with a cheerfulness that was quickly fading from my heart. Dinner was over. There were only a few hours before I had to face Spiros. Going back to the storeroom was an option, but I didn’t want to be around the artifacts. They knew something was wrong and they had fallen silent. It was disconcerting to walk through halls that once vibrated with whispered words and were now still as the grave.
The air felt heavy and watchful, as if the world were holding its breath, waiting to see what happened. Possible scenarios ran through my head, and none were pleasant. Some saw everything going as planned. A few even involved Terry’s immediate return. But most ended in tears and blood and Kreios’ laughter. They bounced inside my skull until I wanted to pound my head on the wall to knock out the images. Or at least myself.
The clock on the mantle struck the nine o’clock hour.
****
I sucked in a huge breath and released it slowly, taking the box from Phillip. He looked worn out, but pleased. The replica glittered in the glow from the forge, vines and leaves curling across the silver and brass lid. The longer I stared, the more things I could pick out. A snake here, a deer there. The box seemed to have a life of its own.
“This is amazing,” I murmured.
Phillip chuckled. “It’s not half bad, but doesn’t do the original justice. Greater hands than mine worked that metal.”
“I can’t imagine that anyone could do better than you.”
He laughed then and pushed me toward the door. “Get on with you. You’re as bad as Miss Violet with all your pretty wo
rds.”
I didn’t answer, my gaze torn between watching the stairs and examining the box. It was magnificent, even in the dim light of the hallway. I just prayed it would be amazing enough to fool Kreios.
Each step through the museum was like slogging through quicksand. My heart fluttered like a bird’s and nervous energy made my entire body tremble. This should be simple. Walk outside and deliver the box and walk back. Easy. Fast.
But as I trod to the doorway, something felt wrong. I stood, one hand resting on the handle, the other arm clutching the box to my side. A few deep breaths later, I pushed the door open slowly and slipped outside into the cool night air. I stayed close to the wall, glad I had chosen a dark-colored dress to wear. I didn’t want anyone to see me until I was good and ready.
I slunk through the shadows until I reached the corner of the building. Then I made my way slowly up the fence line. When I reached the corner, I stopped, leaned against the slats, and watched my breath make small, frantic puffs of steam. Thankfully, tall bushes on the other side of the fence hid me from anyone on the street.
And then I heard the noise.
Balancing the box between my stomach and the iron slats, I peeked through, parting a few branches with my hands. A few feet away, Kreios stood, his face illuminated by the match he was using to light a thick cigar.
“Go and meet her, Spiros. I think the others have gotten inside by now. Make sure you bring her back with the box.”
Ice swept through my veins, closely followed by panic. I turned away as quickly as I could without dropping the box or drawing attention to myself and stared at the museum. They were inside.
With what had become my family.
Chapter Twenty-One
Getting back inside the museum seemed to take forever. Every stray sound made my heart rise in my throat and the box I was holding slip a little more in my hands. When I finally slid inside, I was certain anyone within earshot could hear my frantic panting.
I ran toward the entrance to our rooms, but stopped short when I heard cursing and the sound of breaking porcelain and a dull thud that could only be flesh on flesh. My shoulders twitched, and I moved cautiously through the shadows.
When the door burst open, swinging wide and slamming into the wall, I was a mere handbreadth away, crouching behind a glass case. Three burly men came out, led by a short, portly figure I recognized too well.
Walter.
I pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from calling out. The two men following had Colonel Worthington by the arms, dragging his limp body through the doorway. I caught a brief glimpse of his face, and bit my knuckles. His face was a mess of blood and bruises. His white hair was stained with blood, and his clothing hadn’t fared much better.
His head lolled back and forth and a low groan echoed through the gallery. He must have been unconscious when they brought him out, but he was waking now. Walter turned, throwing a cup of liquid in the curator’s face.
“Wake up, you old fool. I know she’s hiding in here somewhere. You’re going to call her out.”
The colonel spat. “I’ll do no such thing.”
His voice was weak and I had to hold back a whimper. Fear warred with rage in my chest. I wanted to rip them all limb from limb, to run out and play hero. But my legs refused to move.
Walter sneered. “You will. You and I both know she’s here. And if she isn’t, Spiros will bring her in. You still have the location of the key.”
I couldn’t see the curator’s face, but his words oozed genuine confusion. “What key?”
“You can tell me, or I can get her to tell me.”
“Even if she could tell you, you won’t catch her. She knew if this happened I’d want her to run as far away as she could.”
My entire body jerked. Colonel Worthington knew I was nearby. He was sending a message. One I didn’t want to hear or object, even though I knew I couldn’t help.
Walter muttered an oath. The curator laughed.
“You see, Walter, if she gets away - I still win.”
The traitor that he was, Walter cursed. He paced back and forth, worrying the watch fob that dangled from his belly.
Before anything else could be said, a dark form melted out of the darkness. Spiros didn’t walk to Walter. He stalked. Anger vibrated along every line of his tense body. The brief glimpses of danger he had shown me before this were nothing compared to his state now.
“Is she here?” he demanded in slow, slipped words. “Or have you managed to disappoint me again?”
Walter’s forehead glittered with moisture. “She hasn’t shown herself yet. But we have the curator. She’ll come for him.”
Spiros’ lips curled in a sneer. “Idiot. I heard his proclamation as I walked in. She would have as well. He’s as good as told her to run.”
Walter stared to argue. Spiros turned away for a moment and the color drained from Walter’s face.
“That’s not necessary. Not part of the deal.”
Spiros turned, a cold smirk in place. Something was clutched in his hand held to his side. “You don’t understand at all, do you? The deal is whatever I wish it to be. You’re too far in now to get cold feet.”
I strained to see what was hidden in the shadows of Spiros’ body.
“He’s useless to us now.” Spiros said.
With a few, fluid footsteps, he drew close to the colonel, then lifted his arm, allowing a split second glimpse of a long, slender blade before sweeping it across Colonel Worthington’s throat in one smooth arc.
Bile burned at the back of my throat and I bit my knuckles until I tasted blood. They let the colonel’s body slump to the floor. Spiros leaned down, wiping his knife on the curator’s still shoulder. As if he was less than nothing.
“Spread out and search. She can’t have gotten far. When you find her, bring her back here. This should make her talk.”
Walter stood as the others headed out into the museum. I waited, tears streaming down my face. The colonel would not have died in vain. I would get the bag and run, just as I promised. But I needed Walter to walk away.
At last, with a single shudder that ran the length of his body, he turned and headed into the darkness of the museum.
Still, I crouched, counting. The silence grew heavy and oppressive. Even the artifacts were quiet with shock. They had also lost their protector. When I counted to three hundred, I slid from behind the case and around the corner. For a moment, I hesitated in the doorway, staring at the body. Taking one step toward his prone form, I stopped short at a soft noise somewhere nearby. The vase in the glass case I’d hid behind whispered run.
I turned and flew down the hallway as light on my feet as I could be. No one appeared. When I got to the colonel’s rooms, everything was a mess. Dishes were shattered and shards scattered the floor. The chairs were upended and the table leaned without one leg. I waded through the mess to his room and popped the false panel of the trunk. It had been flipped over, so it took longer than I would have liked. The entire time I kept glancing over my shoulder, waiting for someone to appear.
When it finally gave under my fingertips, I yanked the battered rucksack out, dumped the replica box in and threw the straps over my shoulder.
I returned the way I had come, pausing in the doorway. There was no exit outside through this hall and no other way out except around the body. As I stood there, talking myself into going past without a sound, a shout echoed down the room.
I’d been spotted.
****
The room rippled in the dim gaslight. I wound through the glass cases, keeping my footsteps light. My chest burned with the effort of keeping my panting and sobs to myself. I could hear the others behind me, but I refused to turn around. Colonel Worthington had given me something important, and it wasn’t the bundle clutched to my chest. He’d shown me that my worth didn’t depend on anyone else. He’d given me a family based on love rather than necessity.
I slid through the service entrance at the back of the Gr
eek and Roman gallery and into a narrow hallway with a tiny, barred door at the end. The handle gave with an annoyed creak and I burst into the street.
The cold bit into my exposed flesh, and I shivered then shifted on my feet and headed into the darkness of the nearby alley. I knew these streets like they were my veins rather than the dark spider web of London’s unsavory. I ran until my knees felt like jelly and wobbled beneath me. Then I turned one more corner and tucked myself into a small space between two large piles of debris. The cold kept their stench from overpowering me, and their size kept me hidden from anyone who would look down the alleyway.
I crouched there for minutes, hours; I couldn’t be certain how long. I just sat, my body folded in on itself, the precious bundle clutched to my chest while my ears strained for sound. When I finally allowed my body to relax a little, I realized there were cold tracks on my cheeks. My hands came away wet with tears I hadn’t even realized I shed.
I settled the rucksack on my thighs and gently upended it. A heavy shape wrapped in oilcloth rolled onto my knees, as well as a small muslin bag stuffed with something, a corked jar of liquid, and the small, squat pot of balm the Colonel had been using on my hand. Long strips of cotton were stuffed into the bottom. Tears tickled my nose.
He’d known.
I checked in the bag and felt the dry edge of paper. I pulled it out and slowly unfolded it.
Dear Genevieve,
I knew when you disappeared from the museum that things had gone wrong. My contacts were not subtle in their search, and I fear they did more harm than good. If you are reading this, then what I dreaded has happened. You became more than a friend to me, even in the short time you were with us. You were the daughter that my wife and I could never have.
You promised me you would take care of the box. I am trusting you to keep that promise. What you do now is up to you. I know you will choose the right path.
I’ve put enough things in here to tide you over until you can find some help. If Phillip has made it, he will try to find you.
Into the Ether Page 11
