by Peter Glenn
A large, four poster bed filled the main area of the room. A massive window stood in the back that allowed the bed to be bathed in the moonlight. Fresh silken sheets lined the bed, nicely pressed and cornered. It did not appear to be in use.
I let out another sigh of relief and opened the door the rest of the way. I could have sworn I heard Rick whistle softly behind me, but it was gone a second later, so I dismissed it.
The rest of the bedroom was pretty much exactly what you’d expect. There was a closet full of dark suits in one wall of the room, and a master bathroom in the other. The golden showerhead could probably pay my rent for a few months, but other than that, there was nothing of note in the room.
We moved on to the next room, gently closing the door behind us. The next two rooms were similar, if less eccentric, and really held nothing of note.
But when I opened the door to the last room on the left-hand side of the balcony, I heard Rick whistle for real. I couldn’t blame the guy. We’d found it. This was where all the exhibits were stored. The treasure trove.
Even from the crack in the door, I could tell the room was massive. Easily twice the size of that giant bedroom we’d been in moments earlier. And it was filled to the brim with shelves and display cases of all kinds.
Rick pushed against me, eager to get into the room, so I entered the rest of the way and let him past me, then gently shut the door behind us.
True, that could end up being a mistake, as it would make it harder to get out, but I had to weigh that against the possibility of being discovered. We hadn’t encountered a single soul yet. I couldn’t count on that luck holding much longer. Even if there were no guards, there was a high chance of at least one servant not being able to sleep wandering around downstairs. If their eyes trailed upward, I didn’t want them to see anything out of the ordinary.
“All right, Rick,” I said in a voice barely over a whisper. “This is where you come in. Find Boudicca’s clothing. The circlet would be ideal if it’s here, but anything will work, okay?”
“You got it,” Rick said in a monotonous tone. His eyes had grown to the size of saucers as he took in the room in all its glory.
Put simply, it was an ancient culture specialist’s playground. There were artifacts of all types littered around the place. Over on the far wall, there was a large collection of bladed weapons from various times in history. One of them even looked kind of like Grax’thor, but not quite as detailed.
Next to the weapon cache stood several suits of armor that looked like they were ripped straight out of a history book. There was traditional medieval plate mail and a chain hauberk, but also a rather well put together set of traditional Asian cloth armor, and what I was pretty sure was a samurai set next to it. There was even a set of Viking furs and a helmet - not the pointy kind, the Vikings didn’t actually use those - hanging amongst the sets.
And that was just the beginning. Further down in the room were all sorts of other artifacts; crowns, scepters, statues of people I probably should have recognized, you name it.
The two of us waded through the room. Every so often, Rick would stop for a second to admire something and point it out to me, but none of them were what we were looking for. None of them were Boudicca’s crown.
It all seemed hopeless until we came across a row of rather heavy-looking boxes at the very back of the room. The boxes were coated in dust and grime and didn’t look like much, but each one had a packing label detailing the contents.
“The crown is probably in one of these,” Rick told me.
“You think?”
He nodded. “He only bought it a couple days ago, remember? He wouldn’t have had time to put up a display for it yet.”
“Makes sense,” I agreed.
“Here, start looking for anything that has a label from the museum. That’s probably where it’ll be.”
I nodded at Rick and did as I was told. We were able to eliminate about half the boxes right away, because their labels came from foreign markets, which really helped to narrow down the search. The minutes ticked away in my head as we kept searching for the right box.
How long had we been in here, now? Half an hour? How much longer could we realistically expect to keep at this before someone found us? Maybe another half hour? Probably less, really. And we didn’t even have the right box yet. This wasn’t going well at all.
Soon enough, Rick greedily pointed toward one box in particular. I spied the label on the side. Like Rick had thought, it was from the museum. And, of course, it was at the bottom of the pile. We’d have to get all the other boxes off it to even open it.
I shrugged and started grabbing boxes. They were heavier than they had any right to be, and I thought I was going to drop one of them on my feet, but a minute or two later, the box we were looking for was free and clear.
Rick reached down to open it, but I shrugged him off. I pulled out a little knife and gently severed the packing tape right along the lines of the box before he could do any serious damage to it. Much better to leave it intact so we could close it back up when we were done. If we were careful and lucky, the collector would never realize anything had happened.
Once that was over with, Rick couldn’t wait any longer. He tore into the box.
“Wow!” Rick whispered.
I tried looking into the box, but Rick was hunched over it in a way that made that practically impossible. “What is it?” I asked, tilting my head and straining my neck.
“It’s…” his voice trailed off, but he produced a rather large book a moment later.
The cover of the book was leather bound in the old style, and it had several embossed runes on it that looked to be of Celtic origin. Which would make sense, seeing as the book was in the same box as Boudicca’s stuff.
I couldn’t make out what the cover said, but the writing was overlaid in gold filigree. The book’s pages looked old and weathered, and it had an awful, dusty stench to it, but overall, the volume had held up remarkably well, considering how old it must be.
“What is it?” I asked again.
Rick’s eyes glinted in the moonlight as he hefted the book. “It’s an old book of Celtic spells,” he told me. He pointed to the words on the cover. “It claims it’s a grimoire.”
“A grimoire, eh?” I said, rubbing my chin. “Interesting.”
“You don’t think...”
“That the binding ritual spell Boudicca is planning on using would be in that thing?” I finished for him.
Rick huffed. “Yeah. That.”
I side-eyed him. “I thought you didn’t believe in magic.”
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I don’t. Well, not completely, at least. But still, maybe it will come in handy.”
I shrugged. “Only one way to find out. We’ll have to read through it.”
Rick squealed like a schoolgirl he was so ecstatic and placed his hand on the cover, then carefully opened the book.
I slammed my hand down on top of his to close it. “But later,” I said. “We still need to find Boudicca’s crown first. You can tear through that thing tomorrow morning when we’re safe and sound at Sheila’s.”
Rick clutched the book to his chest, and his eyes looked defiant. In hindsight, using the word “tear” when referring to an old book probably wasn’t my best idea.
“You know what I meant!” I admonished him.
Rick glared at me for another second, then nodded.
Together, we returned to the box, taking each item out of it one at a time. The remaining items were all wrapped in a thick layer of protective bubble wrap, so we had to remove each and take off the wrapping to even get a glimpse as to what it was.
No doubt they were all priceless treasures, but I didn’t really care. Like I said before, I’m not a thief if I can avoid it.
At long last, we found what we were looking for. It looked every bit as plain as the replica had in the museum, but you could clearly see the word “Boudicca” written on the inside of the loo
p in Gaelic.
“That’s it,” I said. “That’s what we came for.”
Rick beamed up at me and nodded.
I looked around me at the mess of bubble wrap and priceless artifacts. Originally, I’d planned on putting everything back the way we’d found it, but there was too much stuff all over the place, and we were running out of time. It was already well past eleven.
“All right, take the book, and let’s get out of here,” I told Rick.
He gingerly picked up the ancient tome like he was afraid it was going to turn to dust - which at this point I couldn’t rule out - and followed after me.
I tucked the circlet into a small satchel at my side. Okay, it was a fanny pack. Hey, those things are useful, don’t judge. Then we made our way back down the stairs, saluting the little white cat that was still in the same spot, licking its paws without a care in the world.
When we reached the front door, I reached out to open it and stopped short. My skin was tingling, and I could feel the hair sticking up on the back of my neck. Something was wrong.
I backed away from the door a couple of steps, almost bowling over Rick in the process.
“What’s up?” Rick asked.
“Shh!” I fired back, putting a hand to my lips to remind him to be silent.
But it was too late. The sound of shoes scuffling on pavement filtered through the closed door and into my ears. Someone had heard us.
“Come out, Damian,” a low, gruff voice said from the other side of the doorway. “Come on out nice and slow. We know you’re in there.”
Damn it. I recognized that voice, even through the muffling effect of hard wood. It was Lanky Guy. We’d been caught.
I tried to make out the exterior situation by peering through the windows by the doorway, but it was hard to make out anything. The moon was on the far side of the house, so the light coming in from these windows was minimal. Still, I was pretty sure I could make out Lanky Guy and the silhouettes of four or five other people out there standing near him.
Great. A full pack of bad guys, and just one of me. Why did it always end up like this?
“Stay back,” I warned Rick. I took the circlet out of my pack and shoved it into his hands. “Keep this in case I get hurt. Don’t give it to anyone.”
Rick barely nodded his head. His eyes were fixed on the doorway and his face had returned to that same ashen color from before. He must have recognized the guy’s voice as well.
“Come on out, Damian!” the voice demanded again. “All we want is the crown.”
Shit. How’d he know about the crown, too? But then, I supposed even ancient Celtic warriors could read a newspaper.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I shouted through the doorway. My hand tightened around the hilt of my katana as I inched toward the door. I wasn’t going to get many shots at doing this the right way.
“Give it up, Damian. We saw you in there with the crown earlier.”
What? How was that possible? We’d been so careful, too. For all I knew, it was a ruse, but either way, he was right. I did have Boudicca’s crown. Or rather, Rick did.
“All right, I’m coming out. Just don’t do anything crazy,” I said. My hand closed on the door handle. “I wouldn’t want the circlet to get hurt or anything.”
I heard the sound of feet shuffling on the other side of the door again. If I was right, Lanky Guy was right on the other side of it now.
As silently as I could, I slid my katana out of its sheath. If I was fast enough, I could pounce on him before he even realized the door was open. Then I pressed down on the door handle and pulled.
I raised my katana and made ready to strike, but the scene on the other side of the door made my blood run cold.
“Sheila!” I cried through clenched teeth. He had Sheila.
“That’s right, Damian,” Lanky Guy said, nodding.
He had a dagger held up to Sheila’s throat, which he pressed into her skin just a little bit more as he hefted her backward a half step. He was flanked by Half-Naked Guy and Bat Boy from the earlier conflict. I took a quick look around to see if I could spot the rest of his crew, but they weren’t in the immediate area.
“Put that sword away and come out with your hands up, and no one will get hurt,” Lanky Guy insisted.
Damn it. I’d planned for several contingencies, but this wasn’t one of them. I should have known they’d have gotten to her first, but some part of me had hoped she’d been able to escape them and drive off.
I put my katana back in its sheath and held both of my hands up in front of me, palms forward.
“There you go... guy,” I said. I wasn’t sure how else to refer to him.
“Arlan,” he said slowly. “It’s Arlan.” He grinned at me and beckoned with his hand. “That’s it. Now come out slowly. Both of you.”
Well hell. Somehow, he even knew Rick was with me. Just how bad had our stealth been? That was the last time I took a researcher on a stealth mission.
“You got it, Arlan,” I said. I took a few steps forward until I’d cleared the door frame, keeping my hands visible the whole time.
I could see Sheila’s neck trembling next to the cold steel of the knife. Part of me wondered that if Arlan pricked her skin, if she could activate her blood magic to defend herself, but at the same time, this was not how I wanted to find out. Too risky.
Her lips mouthed the word “sorry” at me, and I shook my head slightly. She had nothing to apologize for. I was the one who should be sorry. I’d put her in that spot. Me and my stupid desires had put everyone in jeopardy.
Rick followed after me. His hands were clear, so he must have put the book down somewhere. I was actually surprised at his brilliance on that move. Far better not to let them know we have anything other than the crown unless we had to.
“There,” I said. “We’re out. You have us where you want us.”
Arlan nodded. “The crown. Give me the crown.” He nodded to Bat Boy, who took a step forward and held out his hands toward me.
I sighed. “Rick, give it to him.”
Rick’s eyes looked like they were about to bulge out of his skull. “But the spell! They’ll have everything they need!”
“If we don’t give the crown to Arlan, he’ll kill Sheila,” I replied, shaking my head again. “Just do it, okay?”
Rick nodded, then pulled the circlet out of his pocket. A collective gasp went through the Celtic guys as they saw it. No doubt they recognized it right away as Boudicca’s.
I tried to find some way to turn their momentary distraction to my advantage, but there was none. They were several steps away, and my katana was still in its sheath. Instead, I just stood there and seethed while Rick stepped forward an inch at a time, the circlet in his outstretched, badly-shaking hand.
At length, Bat Boy snatched the crown from Rick’s fingers, cheering as he did so, and Rick high-tailed it back to stand slightly behind me.
“There,” I said to Arlan. “You have the crown. Now let Sheila go.”
Arlan grinned at me. His grip tightened on the dagger and for a moment, I thought Sheila was done for, then he released her and threw her toward us.
I caught Sheila before she could fall flat on her face and steadied her with my hands. “Easy now, Sheila, you’re safe,” I told her.
“S-sorry, Damian!” she cried, over and over while I patted her on the back. “I’m so sorry!”
“Shh. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.”
I looked up from Sheila and glared at Arlan for a moment. “There you go,” I told him. “We’ve fulfilled our part of the arrangement. Now let us go.” All the while, I was tightening my grip on my katana with my other hand, hoping he couldn’t see it under Sheila’s shaking body.
“Humph,” Arlan said. He looked over at Bat Boy and beckoned for him to hand him the circlet. Bat Boy complied. Arlan twirled it in his fingers for a moment, holding it up to catch what little light it could.
“Beautiful,�
� he said. “Simply beautiful.” He returned his gaze to me. “Thank you, Damian. With this, we can complete the ritual. We have you to thank for everything.”
I hissed at him, but it didn’t do much other than make me feel a little bit better.
Arlan turned around and started walking away slowly.
I gauged the distance between us. Ten feet, maybe twelve. If I lunged correctly, maybe I could still skewer him before he could turn around to stop me. My hand started to pull on my katana ever so slightly as I moved Sheila just a little bit to clear the path.
“Bevan! Conall!” Arlan called over his shoulder. His two minions’ heads perked up. “Kill them.”
14
“Damn you!” I shouted at Arlan. I stepped past Sheila and brought my katana to bear, lunging toward him as fast as I could.
But Arlan and his minions were faster. In the same second, he ran for it, and Bevan and Conall adjusted their stance to block off my access to him.
“Damn you, Arlan!” I shouted again at his fleeing form. I stopped my lunge short before I careened into his wall of muscle and adjusted my footing to face the new threat. I was reasonably certain I could take them both on. I’d done it before.
“So,” I said, my eyes darting back and forth between them. “Which one of you is Bevan?”
Bat Boy grinned at me, and he lunged forward in the same instant. His hands reached for my midsection like he was trying to grab me and grapple me to the ground, but I was too fast for him.
I dodged backward, sliding my foot to the side so his hands grasped air. Then I swung upward with my katana at the last moment.
My sword bit into Bevan’s skin with a slurping noise, and he howled as he pulled his arm away.
I glanced at his arm and noticed it was missing a good bit of skin and hanging at an odd angle. I hadn’t quite sliced all the way through, but I’d come pretty close.
Bevan screamed again and rushed me, but once again, I was ready. I lowered myself to the ground and pushed upward with my katana. The blade slid into his stomach, and I turned the angle of the strike upward so it would slide into his chest.
