by Krista Wolf
“Now, tell us everything,” I said, taking a good long swig. Dark lager really wasn’t my thing, but I was suddenly thirsty. I pushed it back his way with the foam still on my lip.
“Right.”
Jonathan looked a little deflated, but ready to talk. Edgar however, still looked worried. He hadn’t said anything in a few minutes now, and he could barely take his eyes off his own lap.
“First…” Jonathan began, a little hesitantly, “we need to tell you something. And we’ll need your assurance that you won’t get mad.”
I was already mad. Now I was pissed.
“Fuck that,” said Noah sternly. He glanced over at Julian. “But tell us straight, and we at least promise not to kick your ass.”
Jonathan nodded slowly. “Fair enough”
The antiquities-dealer sat up straight, and finally took a sip of his beer. The sip turned into a long pull, and then a satisfied sigh as he lowered the glass to the table.
“Alright,” he said, his courage bolstered. “Before we begin, there’s something we need to come clean on.”
He glanced at Edgar, who’d finally raised his chin. Both men stared at each other before coming to a silent understanding.
“Something you really need to know…”
Sixty-Six
MADISON
We were at the gatehouse when the inspector finally arrived. He was nearly two hours late. Two hours past the window he was scheduled to have arrived, at any rate.
Julian dropped the beam he was holding. Chase, his mallet. Noah stood beside me, dusting hands on his legs as Thomas Burrell strode across the inner bailey, clipboard tucked neatly under his arm.
“Good morning Madison,” he said, not bothering to extend a hand.
“Good morning, Thomas.”
I could see the inspector’s face cross with disdain at being referred to so casually. Maybe he was supposed to be more important than me. Or maybe, and much more likely, he was just used to everyone kissing his ass.
“Good afternoon, actually,” I corrected myself. “You were supposed to be here this morning, but I guess not. That’s too bad, because it was a really nice morning here. We had coffee up on the battlements. With the sun coming up over the trees, you can see—”
“As much as I’d love to chit-chat,” interrupted Thomas Burrell, “I’ve got way too much work to do.” He glanced around, trying to look casual. “And I can see you’ve still got work to do also. Too much of it, I’m afraid. Enough at least, that if I were in your shoes I certainly wouldn’t be having coffee up on the battlements.”
Noah chuckled. Chase shook his head at him. Julian stood leaning against the nearest wall, looking only mildly amused.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
The man issued a dejected sighed, rather than answer. He scribbled on his clipboard for a good minute or so, while he expected us to stand there in silence. Which we did.
“You’ve finished eighteen out of the twenty-two things we asked for,” said the inspector, “which is sort of remarkable. But you still missed four of them. The gatehouse isn’t up to specs, and although the courtyard is finally level, some of the stones don’t quite match the existing cobbles. Not one-hundred percent, anyway.”
“Uh huh,” I said. “Is that all?”
“Madison,” the man laughed. “I’m not sure you realize the seriousness of—”
“She asked you if that’s all,” sneered Chase, cutting the man off mid-sentence. He shrugged non-comittally. “You might want to answer the lady.”
“You might also want to call her Ms. Lockhart,” offered Noah. “Rather than ‘Madison’.” He threw the inspector a sarcastic smile. “You know, one professional to the other.”
Julian shambled forward, moving two steps closer to the man. Burrell cleared his throat and took one big step back.
“Well,” he said, a little less haughtily than before. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems to me you’ve missed your final deadlines.”
I crossed my arms. “Is that so?”
The inspector pulled at his beard and stared back at me suspiciously. “Er… yes. Yes it is.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“A—And I’m afraid I have little choice but to recommend that Midlothian begin immediate reclamation actions,” he said carefully. “You’ve defaulted on your original renovation agreement. Failed to complete the outlined repairs within the signed, designated timeline, so…”
“So the property goes back to the county,” I finished.
Thomas Burrell nodded slowly, adding his best pretend sad face. “I’m afraid so.”
“Ah, that sucks,” sneered Chase, throwing down his mallet. “No more breakfast up on the battlements.”
“No more battlements,” Noah pointed out.
“No more anything,” I shrugged, piling it on. “I guess that’s it, then. Pack it in boys, the inspector’s right. Maybe we should’ve—”
“Alright, already” a secondary voice said loudly from the gatehouse doorway. “I’ve seen enough.”
A man stepped out, shaking his head in disgust. Rubbing the hem of his shirt on his wire-rimmed glasses, as he walked straight up to Thomas Burrell… who was already looking very pale as the blood drained away from his face.
“Give me that,” inspector Sinclair sneered, swiping the clipboard from Burrell’s hand. He scanned it quickly, his face going even more sour. “Thomas, what in fuck’s sake is this?”
Burrell was shaking now. Not just trembling either, but visibly shaking.
“It—It’s a punch sheet,” he said defensively. “The overall requirements for this property, in order to mainta—”
“In order to maintain historical status,” snapped Sinclair. “Yes, I get that. I work in the same department as you, remember? I’m also above you, unless you’ve forgotten that too.”
“Y—Yes,” Burrell said quickly. “I mean no.”
Inspector Sinclair flipped rapidly through the clipboard. With each passing sheet, his eyebrows grew closer together.
“You’ve been adding things,” Sinclair growled. “Not just one or two things, but several.”
“I can do that,” Burrell said defensively. “It’s well within the scope of my—”
“Not to the original contractual agreement you can’t,” Sinclair cut him off. “You can add suggestive work. Make notes on how future projects should be done, in order to obtain proper permits. But Thomas…” He looked up at his fellow employee and shook the clipboard. “Have you been telling these people that all this extraneous bullshit you’ve added are required changes?”
Burrell stood frozen in front of the gatehouse, unable to move. His expression looked like he’d swallowed something terrible.
“Yes, Thomas,” I needled him. “Have you been adding these things without telling us they’re optional?”
Noah coughed. Chase whistled low and shook his head. “Tsk. Tsk.”
“I’ve been here all morning!” Sinclair barked into Burrell’s face. “The work here is exemplary. These people have gone above and beyond — well past Travis Lockhart’s original specifications — to put this place right again.”
He shoved the clipboard so hard into the other inspector’s chest it nearly knocked him over. Burrell looked like he was about to cry.
“They’re finished here, as far as I’m concerned,” said Sinclair. “Inspections are done. I passed them this morning — flying colors.”
A look of extreme pain crossed Thomas Burrell’s face. But also, bitter defeat.
“You’ll be explaining to the Inspector General why you harassed these people,” Sinclair added. “And also, why I had to wait here several hours before you finally showed up.” He looked back at me and threw me a hidden wink. “You’re very lucky that at least they had good coffee.”
Sinclair jotted a few notes of his own, while Thomas Burrell stood like a chastised child waiting to be dismissed. He had his beard pinned to
his chest. His eyes on his feet, as I inched to within a foot or so behind him.
“Your friends sold you out,” I hissed, just loud enough for him to hear. “Edgar. Jonathan. The truck you sent to steal our supplies… they told us everything.”
Julian moved to stand beside me. In a deeper hiss, he added: “And we do mean everything.”
Burrell didn’t even flinch at the words. If there was any fight left in the man, it sure wasn’t in his body language. His shoulders remained slumped, his knees buckled. Finally Sinclair looked up from what he was doing and pointed his pencil at him.
“You’re still here?” he sneered. He waved his hand dismissively. “You can piss off.”
Thomas Burrell edged slowly away without a word. He didn’t look back.
“Straight back to my office by the way,” Sinclair called after him loudly. “And nowhere else.”
He waited until the man had driven off, and his vehicle was nothing but a plume of dust on the horizon. Then the inspector turned back to us, with another look of apology.
“On behalf of Midlothian county,” he said, “I’m terribly sorry for this whole mess. When they told me Burrell would be helping lighten my caseload, I had no idea he’d be—”
“A lying, scheming douchebag?” Chase offered.
Sinclair pushed his glasses backward as his face curled into a frown. “Yeah. That.”
“Not your fault,” said Julian. “But thanks for clearing this up.”
My heart sang. My whole body felt a thousand pounds lighter.
“And thanks for approving my—”
“NO,” Sinclair said, waving me away. “Please, don’t thank me for that. That was all you. If anything, I should’ve been more watchful.”
Glancing back up the road, he delivered a hard look.
“I will be from now on, though.”
Sixty-Seven
MADISON
“Alright, time’s up!”
The beeping of the little alarm stopped, as one of them reset the timer. But I was still in Chase’s lap. Still smothering his face with my bare breasts, as I ground myself hard, into his lap.
“Switch already man,” growled Noah. “Don’t hog the girlfriend.”
Girlfriend…
They’d called me that before, several times already. I absolutely adored the word, each time it dropped from their lips.
“Alright, alright…”
Chase let go, rather reluctantly, and I climbed into Noah’s lap. Already I could feel his significant bulge, pressing up through the fabric of his sweats. He grunted as he thrust upward, pushing it against me. His hands roamed my body as I smiled and lowered my lips against his…
It was our third day celebrating. Three days of fun and laughter, of no work and zero pressure. It felt almost surreal, after all the time, labor and stress we’d put in. To be finally free from worry or deadline.
And of course, three straight days of sweltering hot sex.
We’d walked around the first day mostly numb, unable to process that it was all over. Spent the second day at the lake again, even sleeping outside, beneath the stars. Today we’d gone out into the city, and had the time of our lives. We’d seen the sights and sounds of Edinburgh. We ate well. We drank a little. And then finally, we all headed home…
Because now more than ever, this place truly did feel like home.
My body writhed as I made out with Noah, kissing him so deeply it was like our souls were touching. I loved this part of our little game. The guys enjoyed passing me around on the couch, clothes mostly still on. Taking turns slowly making out with me, in order to build anticipation before going upstairs.
I usually wore something skimpy, like a teddy, or a nightshirt. This time though, I was already naked. Chase had pulled my shirt over my head so he could devour my bare breasts. And Julian had long since snapped the thong of my panties, to better finger me while we kissed like maniacs.
Now Noah was enjoying the fruits of their labor, dragging his hands over my body in deliciously familiar ways. It felt like there was a monster in his shorts. So hard and warm… so desperate to be freed. I wanted to drop to my knees and pull it from his boxers. Enjoy the sight of it springing into the air, before grabbing the base and closing my mouth around it.
But that wasn’t part of the rules. Not yet, anyway.
I had one more round to go. One more pass between each of the guys; kissing their necks, flicking my hot tongue over their bare nipples, while the others pretended to watch whatever was on television… but in reality, were actually looking on.
“She might not make it upstairs,” I heard Noah growl, as I tongued his ear. “We might just have to do her on the floor, right fucking here….”
His voice was low and full of arousal. If the others agreed, they hadn’t said so.
“Do me,” I teased, kissing him some more. I sighed as his hands slid back to my breasts again, cupping and kneading them. “Make me yours, baby,” I whispered, loud enough for the others to hear. “And yours… and yours…”
I grinding harder, increasing the torment for both of us. Driving his cock crazy in its fabric prison, while I felt a long, gentle finger slide over my clit.
“Not fair…” I breathed, melting into him. “This no coming rule…” I bit my lip. “It just isn’t fair… Not fair at all, when…”
The timer went off again, and I was passed to Julian. He was much bigger. Rougher in some ways, but more gentle in others. I loved the way his hands took control of my body. The feel of his tattooed arms flexing beneath my delicate hands, as our tongues swirled madly within my own mouth…
CLINK!
The sound was high pitched, loud and unique. Julian broke the kiss for a second, his chin going over my shoulder.
“Wait…”
God he felt hard. His cock for sure, but also his whole body. His shoulders were like two—
“What is that?” I heard Chase say.
I turned at the waist, inadvertently flinging my hair in his face. Julian brushed it away, my body still pressed against his.
On the other side of the chamber, the calico had entered the room and had apparently dropped something. It stood over it now, swishing its tail left and right.
“I— I think it—”
Moving swiftly, the animal picked up the object between its teeth and trotted off. It looked like a tiny yellow disc. Shiny. Metallic…
“KITTY!”
Julian’s voice stopped the cat dead, mid-stride. It turned to look back at him, cocking its head at an angle.
“Here Kitty!”
He lowered his hand, and the cat immediately came over. He scratched it hard, behind the ears, until it dropped the object into Julian’s other hand.
“The cat’s name is KITTY?” Chase cried incredulously.
Julian held the shiny yellow object up to the light. It was unmistakable, as to what it was:
A hammered gold coin.
“HOLY SHIT!” I screamed.
Sixty-Eight
MADISON
The next few minutes were complete chaos, although I remember them clearly. Julian, following the cat out of the room. The rest of us, gathering our clothes to follow him.
The cat trotted down two more hallways, then turned straight into the Great Hall. Julian put an arm across the entrance. He held us back, while we silently watched the cat leap through one of the holes in the back wall. It turned in a circle a few times, rubbing its back against the cool, smooth stones.
“There?” Chase whispered.
The cat was already settled into a ball, purring softly, while Julian stepped in and grabbed a sledge…
“Move Kitty.”
Ten minutes later, half the wall was apart. All three of my lovers took turns hammering away, loosening the mortar, and hurling blocks to the side. They weren’t careful about it. There were neat piles. And then suddenly…
WHACK!
Clinkclinkclinkclinkclinkclink….
Noah stepped back from h
is latest strike, dropping the hammer in disbelief. Spilling out from behind the demolished wall, falling into the chamber… was a shimmering waterfall of gold coins.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
“I… I can’t believe it.”
Noah’s words echoed what we were all thinking. That it wasn’t happening. That none of this could possibly be real.
Then Chase knelt down and sifted one hand through the shimmering, glimmering pile. The sound it made was the most beautiful noise in the world.
“Holy fuck, Madison.”
He dropped the coins noisily to the floor. He stood up, reached into the hole they’d created… and pulled out two more handfuls of gold.
“HOLY FUCK, MADISON!”
He flung the coins in the air, then cackled loudly and crushed me against him. I felt Julian’s arms around the both of us too. And eventually even Noah’s, although I think he was more in shock than the rest of us.
“Wha— What did—”
“We just found the Westgate treasure horde!” I squealed, cutting him off.
Noah still looked dazed and confused. “W—We did?”
“Actually she did,” exclaimed Chase, pointing at the cat. “But yeah, I… Oh my GOD…”
Julian was pulling more stones down from the wall, which better revealed the opening. Two rotted chests had been spilling their contents into the cavity for centuries. There were piles of silver. Stacks of gold. Precious ingots piled next to a hammered silver bowl, adorned with writing and religious symbols.
“What the—”
I saw the glimmer of jewels. Rings and bracelets and wire braids, even a ruby brooch. And there was chain, too. Heavy chain, forged out of gold links. A method of keeping money handy, that I’d read about in my uncle’s books.
I sunk my hands into the wall, and came back with a beautifully-wrought silver pin. It shined as brightly as the day it was made.
“Look at th—”
Julian took the pin from my hands, and gently guided it through the fabric of my long T-shirt. It looked odd there; a centuries-old piece of history, pushed through a twenty-first century novelty sleep-shirt.