The Judas Relic: An Evangeline Heart Holiday Adventure

by A. K. Alexander

  He shook his head. “I saw my mom already. She’s um, well she’s got Alzheimer’s and so we already did the holiday thing. She’s all I have, besides Marvin.”

  “Guess we both have our M&M’s,” I replied, referring to my mentor and his dog.

  “Guess we do. And, another thing in common.”

  “Right.” I finished my tea with the realization that Clay was probably just as lonely as I was.

  Lina

  “This is where we are staying?” I looked around the huge interior of the massive stone building. It was nothing like what I’d expected. “I thought you said it was a cottage? A humble abode?”

  “No place like home, my love. I may have taken a few liberties in, um…fibbing.” Clay extended his arm in an elaborate bow.

  I rolled my eyes.

  A butler had welcomed us to the cottage. It was a castle. A flipping castle. “What in the world?”

  He cleared his throat as the butler grabbed our luggage. “Welcome, Duke and Duchess Merriweather. I’m Lloyd and I’ll be at your service while here at Castle Artesia. We are pleased to have you as our guests. Do follow me.”

  I was seething. I had to rethink this. Why was I seething? I suppose it was the fact that Lloyd and whoever else I was about to meet in the next forty-eight hours were going to think that Clay and I were married … not just married, but some duke and duchess. Jesus! How was I going to pull this off?

  Lloyd took us to our suite, which was elaborate and more beautiful than I wanted to admit. It was decorated for the holidays, brimming in gold and silver silken fabrics, white and red candles in glass votives, and a to-die-for floral arrangement with red and pink roses, holly berries, and evergreen. A ping seared my chest and my gut sank at the memory of Griffin and I planning our honeymoon in Italy. We had talked about staying in a castle for a couple of nights.

  “Darling, isn’t the bed lovely?” Clay asked in his stupid fake accent, snapping me back to what was my new reality.

  “Quite.” I didn’t bother to hide my displeasure. Lloyd could think what he wanted, and I was sure we weren’t the first duke and duchess to bite at each other.

  One suite. One bed. Well, Clay would be sleeping on the velvet upholstered sofa by the large arched window facing the moor and a bridge. I would be in that bed.

  “If you should have any questions, please ring for me. Feel free to explore the castle. The holiday party is tomorrow at seven o’clock, as you are aware. This evening is free to any guests staying with us, as Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries are in Paris and returning in the morning.”

  “Of course. Of course,” Clay said. “I don’t think the Duchess and I will be needing much of anything, Lloyd. You see, we’ve only recently married and I do believe our mums are expecting grandbabies as soon as possible,” Clay said, and slapped me on the butt.

  I all but coldcocked him, but kept my wits, my fists balling up. I turned and walked to the window, but out of the corner of my eye I caught Clay handing Lloyd a piece of paper.

  “What the hell? Babies? Married? Slapping my ass!” I yelled as soon as Lloyd was out of the room.

  “Shhh! Come on. We have to play the part.”

  I shook a finger at him. “You slap or grab my ass again, I will fucking kill you.”

  He held up his hands. “Got it.”

  “And what was up with the little trade of the paper with you and the butler?”

  “Nothing. I just gave him my cell number and asked him to call me with a time for dinner reservations.”

  “Oh.” I scowled, not sure he was being truthful, but I had nothing to call him on, either. “I don’t think we should go out to dinner tonight.”

  He shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way. Guess we can just eat in.”

  “Great. Let’s order food and make our plan.”

  “Okay, Duchess, you’re the boss. Look, I want to get a little shut-eye, then we can get to our formal plan-making. You good with that?”

  “Sure. I’ll have a look around, and be back in a bit. FYI, you can have the bed for your nap, but I get it tonight.”

  He spread out on the bed, hands behind his head. “You’re the boss.”

  Lina

  I walked through the grounds, lost in thought, surrounded by beauty and freezing-ass temperatures. There were sculptures, and even with the snow and cold temperatures, the gardens were glorious with snow-capped trees. The archways were lit by candlelight throughout, and on an iced-over pond, a young family and a handful of teenagers skated. Overtaken by the beauty and serenity of the picture-perfect imagery, I sat on an iron bench, tucking my hands deep in my pockets.

  Malcolm hadn’t returned my call yet, and I wondered how he was. I’d left him a message, unsure where the agency had sent him, but knowing that he’d get back to me if he could. I hoped he was being careful after his recent hip surgery. After that, I’d called Ralph and Anna and let them know I’d be in Chelsea in a couple of days, and they said they were happy to entertain me whenever I could come by.

  I needed to see Ralph. I didn’t like the lack of information, and was getting antsy about when and how we were supposed to go about finding the next relic. When I’d started this mission of Metatron’s, I’d thought that all the info and pieces would come swift and keep us moving. I’d never been good at waiting. But Clay’s little side trip had distracted and sidetracked me, making me second-guess the decision to come help him instead of going straight to Ralph to bug him for more information about relics and where he thought I could be headed.

  While I watched the skaters twirling and floating carefree across the ice, I wondered where life was headed for me, and whether I could save Griffin’s soul. I buried my face in my palms, and under my breath said a small prayer. “I need some answers, Metatron. I need to know what’s going on.”

  “What’s going on is that you, dear girl, have taken a separate little adventure with your friend Clay.”

  I looked up. Seated next to me was the distinguished, handsome archangel with steely blue eyes and slicked-back hair, more platinum than blond in the evening’s frigid air.

  Everything around us had come to a complete stop. The people, the deer and rabbits sheltered beneath the trees—all of it. They were frozen in Metatron’s special space, one I had yet to understand. I wondered if all archangels did this, or if Metatron was uniquely quirky as a guy who’d once been human. It creeped me out, how he just froze everything, and how it would all return to normal as if nothing had happened, once he was gone.

  “Now, you show up?” I yanked my hands from my pockets and waved them toward him. “I’ve been calling for you and trying to find out what I needed to do next! And, just now, you show up like everything’s perfectly fine.”

  “Evangeline,” he said, crossing one elegant leg over the other and clasping his hands over his knee. “You do know that there is spiritual warfare going on at every second of every moment of the day.” He shifted his angel wings on the side closest to me and scooted over on the bench. “I can’t always be available when you call, and I will only come to you when I have some answers. I’m not God, you know.”

  “I get that.” I was still miffed that he’d left me in the dark. Maybe if he’d have come earlier I wouldn’t be stuck on this side adventure as Clay’s wife. “You have answers then? What are they?”

  “I don’t have all of the answers. I’m working on it. Remember what I told you, I may be an archangel but I’m not privy to everything. I am not the end-all and be-all, and much of this journey I have to allow you to do on your own. I’ve been instructed this way.”

  I sighed and blew a long piece of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail back out of my face. “I’m aware, and you’re always so good to remind me when I forget. But you must know something.”

  “I do have a tidbit for you. I have learned that you will need to travel to Greece.”

  “Okay. Is that it? Any other answers?”

  “Only that you should be prepared to go directly after the New Yea
r.”

  I nodded. “That’s it?”

  “I’m afraid so. Your friend will need to know.”

  “My friend?”

  “Clay.”

  “He’s not a friend.” The mere mention stiffened my back. I was too upset over the castle, and Griffin, and this play-acting. “You put us together. He’s a partner. That’s it.”

  Metatron leaned close and I forced myself not to lean away and show him how upset I was that he’d given me so little information that he might as well have not come. He kissed my cheek. “I shall be seeing you soon. Ralph will have some new information for you, too.”

  Finally. I could always count on Metatron to give Ralph bits of information that the archangel couldn’t give to me directly. “I plan to visit him in a couple of days.”

  “Good.” He stared at the skaters and stood, his massive wings spreading and stirring the still air. Then he turned to me, a solemn and serious expression on his face. “I urge you to use caution with regard to this adventure with your partner. Danger lurks among those he trusts.”

  I nodded. “I feel it.” I stared at him, wishing he could give me more, wishing he wasn’t bound by covenants that forced him to withhold information from me. But he’d at least confirmed my suspicions that Clay and I were missing details that could help us to be successful with this heist of his.

  “Merry Christmas, Evangeline.”

  Before I could return the sentiment, he was gone.

  Lina

  I returned to the suite to find Clay on the computer, his blond curls mussed up and his green eyes still heavy with sleep. “Hey. Want to see where the painting is being held?”

  I rubbed my palms together, eager to dive into work and give my emotions a rest. “Now we’re talking.”

  Just as we did when we scouted out the Renwick Gallery at the Smithsonian, Clay moved swiftly through the 3-D model of the building, showing me exits and cameras and blind spots. He pointed at the screen. “Two guards here, one floater, two on every other exit.” He poked the gaps in the blueprints.

  “One floater is going to make it hard. We need to figure out how to get them all in one location so I can take them out with gas or something.”

  He pushed the laptop to the point of his knees and leaned back. “Wouldn’t really need you if I could’ve figured out that part, don’t ya think?”

  I ignored his sarcasm and leaned closer, letting my gaze roam over the details of the castle. “When do they change shifts?”

  “In rotations every two hours. Never more than two guards going off or coming on at a time.”

  “Shit.”

  “Again … if this was easy, I wouldn’t need you.”

  “Thanks.” It was an offhanded comment, but I meant it. The impossible jobs were what I was good at, and, truthfully, the ones I enjoyed the most … but solving the puzzle of a tough assassination was completely different than this. With those, I merely had to wait for my mark to show me the hole in his habitual schedule. Paintings didn’t move. Paintings didn’t have schedules.

  But security guards did. I just had to find the pattern. “Scroll through again, point out the guards.”

  He did and I memorized the layout, their posts, and calculated in the rotations, looking for the stability and reliability inherent to all humans. It was our biggest flaw, one I exploited at every opportunity—we liked the comfort of habits. “Do they mix up the order of who goes off, or does that stay static?”

  His lips flattened into a line of concentration and he clicked through the schedule, matching it up to the castle’s layout. “This is a new system since acquiring the painting, so they might change it in the future, like every thirty days they restructure, but for now…” He clicked through the blueprint and schedule again, rapidly flipping back and forth. “Right now it looks like the posts rotate at the same time every day.”

  That was something and I needed to let my brain gnaw on it for a bit. I settled back into the sofa. “Let me ask you, how do we pull off this duchess-and-duke scenario?”

  “Made them up.”

  “Oh, swell. I figured that. What’s the deal?”

  “The Jeffries have an older son, about our age, who is currently living in the U.S. Went to school at Harvard and is somewhat considered the scourge of the family. He didn’t do much with himself after college and lives the life of Riley in the big city. However, his mother adores him. You, dear lady, went to school with him. I am an old friend from boarding school, and when I went for a visit to the States, he introduced us. I saved you from having to put on the accent. There’s a file in my briefcase. It’s all on the wonder boy who was so kind to send his mum an e-mail for us and have us placed on the guest list His name is Richard. I suggest you memorize it what’s in the file. I have. I’m not too worried about questions. This will be a full party. The hosts will likely not even notice us.”

  “I probably don’t want to know how you hacked into this Richard’s email.”

  “You’ve seen what I can do with a computer, Lina. That was kindergarten stuff.” He smiled all chagrin.

  “Of course it was. Okay, so anything else?”

  “Yes. We have to get in and out.” He pointed back to the screen and punched in some keys, switching the scene from the inside of the castle where the painting was located to the outside. “This is the service entrance, and before we head in as our royal Merriweather selves, we need to get another car for our getaway. Preferably a catering van of sorts, something that looks like it might belong with the servant quarters. I’ll take care of getting it parked.”

  “I don’t even want to know.” My team always handled details like that for me during jobs, and the less I knew about those details, the better. “Documents?”

  “Taken care of—IDs, disguises, passports.”

  He’d done a good job, and I wasn’t surprised. At least in this area of his life, he was the utmost professional.

  As I stood up and walked to his briefcase, there was a knock at the door.

  “Just a moment,” Clay yelled out and then lowered his voice. “Wrap a towel around you and look like you’ve been in a state of bliss. No.” He looked around the room, his gaze landing on the bed. “Better yet, get under the covers. I’ll get the towel.”

  I groaned, but did as he ordered.

  He opened the door to Lloyd, a large wrapped box in his outstretched hands. “Sir.”

  “Thank you, Lloyd.” Clay’s accent was getting better and he’d found an air of sophistication as well. “The Duchess and I have decided to take dinner in this evening.”

  “That can be arranged. I shall have the chef make the preparations. Say, seven?”

  “Absolutely splendid.” Clay closed the door and came to the side of the bed where I got out from under the covers and stood up. He handed me the box.

  “What’s this?”

  “For you.” A gentle smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Open it.”

  I eyed him and unwrapped the gift. Inside, under tissue was a floor-length, sleeveless red dress. It was simple but elegant and I held it up. It was also my size.

  “Your gown, my lady.”

  “You know my size?”

  He grinned and let his hungry gaze slip down my body. “I know women’s bodies.”

  I punched him on the shoulder and laughed. “Of course you do.”

  Lina

  The next day flew by while snow fell outside in thick, fat flakes, helping us out by layering the ground with inches of fluffy padding. Last night, we’d worked late, making plans, eating crab cakes, lamb chops, and amazing side dishes, along with drinking some great wine. We’d joked and actually had some decent conversation that didn’t revolve around death, demons, and heists. I told him about Metatron’s visit and where we were headed. “Love Greece” had been his one comment.

  Malcolm called in the middle and I updated him, keeping details to a bare minimum over the open line. I did tell him that I’d be spending Christmas at Ralph and Anna’s, ju
st so he’d know that I wouldn’t be alone. This would be the first Christmas that we wouldn’t be together and I was going to miss him. Clay had eased up on the teasing after that, unsure how far to press me to shake me out of my melancholy.

  Rising early, we got back to the planning until there was nothing left to cover. Now the time had come to make our way up the front steps of the castle and be announced as the Duke and Duchess of Merriweather. The snow had stopped falling, as if perfectly timed with the evening’s festivities, but the gardening crew had piled mounds of it on either side of the sidewalk, managing to dress it up with large torches that lit the long walk toward the entrance.

  Darkness wrapped around us like the fur cloak wrapped around me as we waited in the long line of party-goers. I wondered, not for the first time, about Clay’s clients. I was curious about a buyer who’d sent him after the first relic—Solomon’s ring, and now an obscure painting by this Oliver Lareux. Those were two totally different circles of people, prices, and status. It was odd enough for someone to be interested in the same religious relics I was, but paired with what we were attempting tonight, it was … unsettling.

  When I’d dug around in my sources for intel on Clay after he’d hijacked my heist, I’d found nothing about who hired him, only that he was well recommended and in high demand. From our surprise encounter, he’d certainly been a professional—enough to screw up my mission, and that was nearly impossible.

  We weren’t quite to the point that I could flat-out ask him about his buyers. And while I realized we’d covered a lot of topics together, there was something about that level of privacy that I didn’t want to invade. I’d only told him the barest of details about who I worked with, and I’d left a few dozen out—on purpose. By asking him questions, I was opening myself up to them, and I had a lot to hide. Even from a guy who knew things no one else ever would.