by Martha Carr
The average human had absorbed the collective wisdom concerning security based on centuries of technology. Locks, walls, gates. Guards with guns. Magical security? Not so much.
Earth would catch up, but in the interim, there were a lot of opportunities for a woman to perform a little mischief with magic.
Shay shrugged and rejoined the flow of people passing by the shop and not paying it any heed.
Wait too long, and your cousin might move again. Don’t blame me.
Wealthy people were smarter, better, and more knowledgeable. They deserved everything they had. Luck wasn’t a factor. That was what many people assumed, particularly the wealthy themselves.
Marcus opened the jewelry box and smiled down at the sparkling diamond necklace inside. He understood that the rich were nothing more than people with money, and because they overestimated themselves, their arrogance blinded them and made them the perfect targets for a skilled practitioner of the fine art of burglary.
This looks even more expensive than I expected. Guess I’m just lucky.
A six-figure necklace shouldn’t have been sitting in a jewelry box in a mansion with no guards and a security system that didn’t include alarmed second-story windows.
People that arrogant need to be humbled. This is a good lesson for them. An expensive lesson, but still a good one. Hell, I’ve been humbled tons of times, and it’s only made me better.
The thief chuckled to himself and slipped the necklace into a plastic bag before placing it in his backpack.
“Too damned easy. I’m almost disappointed.”
Marcus strode over to the open window and the rope stretching from the window to a nearby rooftop of a huge abandoned tire warehouse. The nice home was separated from an industrial zone by a mere fence, the glamour of the neighborhood long faded into the past. The mansion was the last redoubt of a lost way of life.
Maybe that was why the couple obsessed over expensive jewelry? Marcus didn’t know, even if he liked to ponder the psychology of his victims on occasion.
He climbed out hand-over-hand, whistling to himself. An easy job was welcome, and the money would keep him in drinks at some tropical paradise for a long time, but he’d been expecting at least a minor challenge. Mastering skills was pointless if you never got to use them.
As Marcus arrived at the other end of his rope, a loud alarm howled from the house.
“Oh, that’s more like it.”
He pulled out a knife and cut the rope with one swift stroke. He wanted a challenge, but he didn’t want to make it too easy for anyone who might pursue him, either.
You probably want a challenge too, even if you don’t know it.
A smile on his face, the cat burglar charged toward the edge of his current rooftop and leapt to the next.
Shay moaned and let her head loll back. She loved history and archaeology, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed every presentation related to those subjects.
An Analysis of Pre-Twenty-First Century Contact With Oricerans: A Modern Cross-Disciplinary Approach was a dry book. Dry as the Sahara Desert. No, not even that. Dry as fucking Mercury.
Any sort of narrative style designed to make the information more digestible had been eschewed in favor of maximum density. The nested footnotes didn’t help things. At least a reader could never claim they didn’t know where the authors had gotten their information.
The tomb raider wanted to stick the book back on the shelf, but every time she was about to give up, some interesting tidbit popped up that drew her back in. The back of her neck tingled as if she were about to stumble upon some critical fact. Whether that was instinct or wishful thinking was up for debate.
Okay, I can do this. It’s why I came to Warehouse Four tonight anyway.
Today’s subject of interest was Correk. She still didn’t know a lot about the man, and her typical methods of gaining information were running into dead ends or strange anecdotes that obviously had nothing to do with the Light Elf.
A little digging netted an off-hand reference in some chef’s memoir about a Renaissance Faire actor going by that name in Austin, Texas over twenty years prior. Shay chalked that up to weird coincidence. She was sure that if she pushed hard enough, she could probably find a dark-haired woman named Shay in Texas regardless of the year.
I need to figure out more about this guy. Something about him is bothering me. My gut tells me he’s a lot more than just some Elf Mafia collector, and way more dangerous.
Shay looked back down at her book and its painfully detailed discussion about the Light Elf language and its musical qualities.
An alarm sounded on her phone, and she picked it from the table.
PERIMETER ALERT, WAREHOUSE FOUR. MOTION AND CONTACT ALARMS 1 AND 3 TRIPPED AT 21:22.
Shay narrowed her eyes and brought up her security app. Peyton’s customizations had made controlling security at the warehouses easier—a perfect gift for the paranoid woman in a man’s life.
Thanks, Peyton.
“Where the fuck is the…”
A loud thud from the roof echoed through the warehouse. The source impact knocked down years of accumulated dust from part of the ceiling in a thick cloud that descended toward one of her bookshelves.
Shay winced.
“Okay, asshole, I don’t know if you followed me or you’re just picking a place at random, but now I’m ready to give you a beat-down. No one messes with my library.”
Shay examined a camera feed from her phone. A dark-haired, dark-clothed man wearing a backpack knelt near the edge of the roof of the warehouse. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small plastic bag.
“That’s an expensive-ass necklace.” Shay burst out laughing. “Oh, bet it’s from the Blackwell place. They should have moved a long time ago. Wait, what the fuck is he doing?”
The thief returned the plastic bag to his backpack, sat down cross-legged, and pulled out an apple. He took a bite, with a smile on his face like he had all the time in the world to enjoy his rooftop picnic.
“You arrogant prick, you’re not that far from the place you probably just robbed. The cops could still tag you with a drone. Shit.”
Shay snatched her gun from the table and rushed toward the door. She needed this asshole away from Warehouse Four before any private security or police came snooping. There was no way she could evacuate this place quickly, even with the help of Purity Solutions.
Her heart pounding, she made it outside in record time and up a ladder to the roof so fast she couldn’t even remember the climb when she finished it. She sprinted toward the man chomping away on fruit in the center of the roof, illuminated by the dim light of the stars and street lights a few buildings away.
The thief hopped to his feet and tilted his head, a curious look on his face.
He bowed with a flourish. “It truly is my lucky night.”
“I don’t know about that, asshole.”
He laughed. “Such a beautiful woman shouldn’t use such foul language.” His gaze dipped.
What, he’s checking me out now? Seriously? Does he even get the situation?
“And use such awful weapons,” the thief commented.
Shay snorted. She wasn’t wearing a jacket, and her shoulder holster was visible.
Good, he knows I’m dangerous. That might make this much easier.
Shay glared at the cat burglar. “You picked the wrong night to piss me off.”
He saluted. “Oh, I see. You’re some sort of champion of justice, disappointed in a man who is just trying to make his way in the world.”
“I’m no champion of justice, and did anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking annoying?”
He grinned. “Many, many times.”
Screw this.
Shay charged him. If he wasn’t going to pull a gun, then she only needed to get him moving away from Warehouse Four, or she could knock his ass out and drag him away. Whatever worked.
The thief sprinted toward the side of the roof.
/> Idiot. What are you going to do, flap your arms and fly away?
He reached the edge and jumped. Shay blinked and slowed. The man sailed through the air and landed on the next roof over without even a grunt and rolled back to his feet in seconds.
“Okay, that was impressive, but now it’s on, asshole.” The whole thing reminded her of something she’d seen Lily do a hundred times at least. Lily or one of the teenagers from beneath the ground. She put it out of her head and focused.
Shay backed up and charged the edge of the roof and pushed off. Unlike the other man she didn’t manage a roll, causing the full force of her leap to rocket up her legs.
She hissed as the cat burglar sped away.
“Not getting away that easily.” Shay pumped her legs and sprinted after the man.
The milder height differences between the next few roofs helped reduce the impact, but the slippery bastard in front of her maintained his distance.
A few roofs later he jumped out, arms first, legs down.
Shay stopped at the edge, convinced he was about to break both his legs. He fell at an angle and grabbed the edge of a window before pushing off and hitting the wall of the first building with his legs. The thief maintained his momentum and continued bouncing between the walls until he was on the ground.
The tomb raider jumped and grabbed a nearby drainpipe. She shinnied down the pipe as the thief sat grinning like it was the most entertaining sight in the world.
I’m so going to put my foot up his ass.
Two rusty screws pulled out of the top, and the pipe ripped away from the wall.
“Shit!”
Shay dropped to the ground with a grunt. The man was already running. The tomb raider gritted her teeth and sprinted after him, her heart thundering and her lungs burning.
The thief grabbed the handrail on a metal staircase and vaulted onto the stairs. A series of similar movements on the rails on other side had him halfway up before Shay even got to the bottom. She tried to replicate his move and almost sent herself over the edge.
Shay had stamina, as well as grip and muscle strength. She trained every day in Warehouse One when she was in LA, but she could barely keep up with this asshole master of momentum.
A loud groan ripped from her mouth as she crested the stairs and saw the man jump to a flagpole, swinging around a few times before sliding down. It finally dawned on her what she was dealing with.
Parkour, French-invented mobility training. Half-sport, half-non-combat martial art.
“Damn it.”
Shay hurried to the edge of the building and leapt for the flagpole. She didn’t manage the smooth connection of the parkour master and slid halfway before arresting her fall with her feet and the crook of her arm.
She dropped off the pole. At least they were both on the ground now.
The tomb raider burst into a sprint, ignoring the ache building in her legs and her ragged breathing. This wasn’t about scaring the man away from Warehouse Four anymore. This was about proving to herself that some random asshole who had hopped onto her roof wasn’t better than her.
I’m the best. I’m gonna tackle his ass, tie him up, stick that necklace on his neck, and call the cops on him.
The thief ran straight up a car and leapt from the roof to the hood of the next one. Shay closed on him and stomped over the same car.
Hope you have insurance for those dents.
The pair passed over a half-dozen cars parked in a line on the street. She’d gained a yard on him, but he was still out of reach. Several people along the street stopped and watched them.
A tall metal fence blocked the path ahead and Shay picked up her pace, hoping to close before the man made it over.
He hopped into the air and pushed with his arms. His body twisted, and he vaulted over the fence, spinning a few times before landing.
Shay didn’t even bother to try and replicate the move. She scrambled up the fence in a far less elegant manner, losing valuable seconds as the man continued running.
Sweat poured down her face as she pushed her heart and lungs to her limit. So close. So damned close. She would win. She had to win.
The thief changed directions and ran straight toward a park bench. The move confused Shay since there were an alley and stairs in the opposite direction.
Shay allowed herself a grin. The man had finally made a mistake.
He reached the bench and used it to launch himself into the air toward a busy street. He landed atop a metro bus zooming down the street, then sat up and saluted Shay, a shit-eating grin on his face.
Shay stood there watching as the bus pulled away, the driver oblivious to the cat burglar now riding for free.
“Damn it!” she screamed into the night.
All her training, all her experience, and she’d been beaten. She’d never even gotten close to the guy.
She huffed and wiped the sweat off her face. The man’s face as he rode away remained etched in her mind. He didn’t even look that winded.
“Next time, asshole. Next time.”
Shay dropped onto the park bench the man had used for his final escape. “Maybe I need to learn a little parkour.”
She sighed.
First, though, she had a little more dry-ass reading to finish.
14
“Ah, good afternoon, Miz Carson,” answered the cheerful voice of Smite-Williams over the phone. “It’s rare that you contact me instead of the other way around.”
“I need to meet with Correk.”
“He doesn’t offer general assignments.”
Shay sucked in a breath. After her little fun episode with the cat burglar, she’d thought it’d be even harder to return to research, but a chance passage in her first book had led to her spending hours reading others. She now had a good idea of Correk’s true identity, and she needed to confirm it.
Think I would have liked it more if you were just Elf Mafia.
“Are you saying you won’t pass my message along, Professor?”
“I don’t mean to be difficult, but I value my relationship with him, so I need to know why I should.”
“Because he’s interested in that alien shit as much as I am, and it might be in his best interest to deal with me directly.”
“I see.” The Professor let out a long sigh. “I’ll pass along your message, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
“Fine by me.”
He made me come all the way to fucking DC? Why? He doesn’t know how to use a phone?
Shay marched up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, muttering about inconvenience as she crested them. The mammoth white marble statue of Abraham Lincoln was, as always, seated and eternally looking forward.
I bet someday some wizard will enchant that statue and have him go on a rampage. Honest Abe kicking ass and taking names.
The tomb raider stepped between two of the Doric columns dominating the front of the memorial and looked around for her contact. Correk hadn’t been all that clear about where he’d be, other than offering the time and telling her to meet him “somewhere” at the memorial.
“Miz Carson,” called a familiar voice.
Shay spun around, her hand going into her purse toward her gun.
Correk stood, his arms crossed, in front of one of the columns. He had a thin smile on his face.
Shay let her hand drop and walked toward him. “This isn’t exactly a private place, and I want to discuss private things. I thought the Professor would have made that clear.”
Correk nodded toward a gaggle of school kids strolling past. “Notice anything?”
The tomb raider narrowed her eyes and looked for any sign of danger from the kids—suspicious bulges, strange tricks of the light, anything unusual—but they just looked like a mass of kids walking toward Abraham Lincoln. They chatted, smiling and laughing.
She blinked. She couldn’t hear any of it.
“So they can’t hear us,” Shay commented. “Can they see us?”
“Not if
we don’t give them a reason to.”
Shay shook her head. “Still seems dangerous.”
“Oh, not as much as you expect, but it’s only because of Smite-Williams’ recommendation that I even agreed to meet with you alone. You’re obviously resourceful, and I’m curious what you want to talk to me about.”
Shay took a deep breath. She’d have to risk giving up information at the chance of gaining information. Trusting some Light Elf she barely knew, even if he was a friend of the Professor, still knotted her stomach, but she could no longer keep operating as if she could solve every problem by herself.
Peyton and James had both shown her what she could accomplish when she dared to allow someone to help her.
She also needed contacts, and not just the Professor and a few others interested in artifacts. A woman with magical enemies needed magical allies.
“We discussed some of this before,” Shay explained. “But to get it all out on the table, I’m aware of at least three stones with alien writing, including the one I recovered in Illinois, and another artifact also with alien writing, but different alien writing.”
Correk arched a brow. “Different alien writing?”
“I’m saying it’s not from Earth or Oriceran, but it’s different from what you were interested in before. Maybe the same planet, or maybe a different planet entirely. The writing is associated with an artifact of impressive power.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Shay shook her head. “There’s only so much I’m at liberty to share.”
The corners of Correk’s mouth turned up in a faint smile. Something approaching approval appeared in his eyes.
“So,” the Light Elf replied, “do you know anything else?”
“Some associates of mine have been able to translate at least part of a message on the stones.”
“Interesting. Very interesting. And are you at liberty to share that?”
Shay shrugged. “All they could figure out was, ‘Already here.’”
“Already here?” Correk echoed. “That could mean a lot of things. It could mean something like, ‘Don’t come to Earth, the magic is already here, and it’s too dangerous,’ or it could mean something like, ‘All our forces are already here and ready to invade.’”
