“You think that’s what happened? I told them to fuck off three months before my defense?”
He slid his hand behind the coffeemaker stand and removed an aluminum baseball bat. “I’m giving you one more chance. Get the hell out of my office, or I’ll use this—”
My foot connected hard with Mike’s balls. Fair is great in video games and dojos, but not when I’m about to get my head split open like a watermelon at a frat party.
Mike crumpled to the floor, clutching his jewels. “Jesus fucking Christ—” His watering eyes went wide as I pinned him down and pushed a wad of chloroform-soaked cotton into his mouth.
“Yeah, about following the IAA program? Turns out you do what they say and they go ahead and fuck you over anyways. And tell Benji I’ll be seeing him soon.”
Mike passed out and I dragged his unconscious body into the closet.
My Bluetooth buzzed as I stepped out into the hall. “Alix? Where are you?”
I tapped the receiver. “I’m inside. Remember Mike Krascheck, Benji’s friend?”
“The one who looked like Scooby-Doo?”
“Shaggy, actually—Scooby-Doo was the dog. Just put him out with chloroform after perusing through the exhibit files. The scroll is on the second floor, level one security.”
“That’s good. I’ll head up and meet you there. Can you get to the second floor through the back?”
“Just a sec,” I said, and cracked open the other door in the hallway, adjacent to the office. Behind it there was a storage room–sized alcove and a set of stairs leading up. Beside the stairs was a stage door with MUSEUM, EXHIBIT FLOOR ONE written across it.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Any sign of Bindi and Red?”
“Not since we saw them walk in. I’m going to pull the fire alarm in two minutes. Head upstairs and bolt the back door until people give up on that exit. We need it to get by the fire trucks and any IAA that show up. Whatever you do, don’t come out until after I’ve set off the alarm, otherwise the cameras will catch you.”
I cringed. Turning the cameras off was a fail-safe in case something supernatural caused the fire. I’d spent a lot of time—and money—wiping my picture off the university databases. I was in no hurry to stick myself back on their radar, especially after Mike woke up and told them I’d passed through. “Be careful on your end,” I said.
“You too. I’ll meet you at the case,” Nadya said before my earpiece clicked off.
I took the stairs to the second floor, dead-bolted the door, and waited. I noted the red fire alarm bell above the door right before it went off.
“Son of a—” I dropped to my knees. Goddamn it, why are fire alarms always louder than I remember? I cupped both ears with my cargo jacket sleeves. It didn’t help, especially the ear that held the Bluetooth.
The door rattled as people tried to get into the stairwell, followed by a lot of swearing when it wouldn’t open . . . then the kicking started. Jesus Christ, how long does it take for someone to figure, Gee, the fire escape won’t open, maybe I should find another way out?
My ears were ringing now—as in painfully. I needed to drown out the alarm, and fast. I fished around in my bag for my earplugs—thank God some grad school habits die hard—and clicked the earpiece on. “Nadya, the fire alarm is killing me out here—see you inside,” I yelled into what I hoped was the mic. Before she could say anything—not that I would have heard—I pulled the earpiece out, shoved it in my pocket, and pushed in my grubby earplugs as fast as I could.
The idiots on the other side had stopped trying to kick the door down. I cracked the door open, easing the handle so as not to make a sound.
There was no sign of Bindi and Red. Maybe they’d thought the fire alarm was real and evacuated with everyone else . . . or maybe they were waiting around the corner with a baseball bat.
Damn it, I should have grabbed Mike’s bat when I’d had the chance.
The exhibit room was dark, punctuated by strobing red lights along the floor and crown molding. I stepped out and tried to get my bearings. Now where the hell was the glass case with my scroll?
The first display I passed by was the front half of a clipper hull dredged off the bottom of the Caribbean, along with the water-soaked logbook . . . an interesting set of chests . . . I shook my head and pulled my eyes off the displays. Not shopping for inventory.
Two glass cases and another shipwreck later, I found the Bali items. They occupied a small room off from the main exhibit, the kind they stick the filler in so people can peruse something in between the big-ticket items.
The first and biggest case held ceramic pots and pans collected during the Dutch occupation. Trinkets really, and not worth much. The second and third cases held period clothing worn by the Dutch and the Balinese. From the smell of mothballs as I passed by, they were real. I swear mothballs have a supernatural origin—how the hell else can you smell them through an inch of sealed and climate-controlled glass?
And there were the scrolls. I put Captain’s carrier down so I could get a closer look.
“Shit.” There had to be thirty scrolls crammed into the two cases, and the red strobe lights made it near impossible to make any of the writing out. I started to rummage through my bag for my UV flashlight when I heard the closet door jostle. I dove behind the ship hull with Captain. The door jostled again as someone—or something—on the other side wrestled with the handle. Where the hell was that flashlight? I dumped the contents of my pack on the floor until my two flashlights rolled out. I readied one, aiming it at the closet door, and shoved the other one into my pocket. The door creaked open, and I turned the flashlight on.
“Alix, what the hell? Get that light off me.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as Nadya stepped out. “Sorry, I thought it was Bindi or Red.”
She stepped out, a frown etched on her face. “If you hadn’t taken your earpiece out, you’d have known they left with everyone else. Apparently their madness and loyalty to Marie is still trumped by death by fire.”
“You’re sure? They’re gone?”
Nadya nodded. “They were looking at logbooks downstairs in the glass cases and left out the front doors when the fire alarm went off. I think they were only doing reconnaissance. I don’t think they even know it’s here.”
Well, thanks for small and infrequently spaced miracles.
Nadya did a quick scan of the room before glancing at her watch. “Not to nag, but have you found the scroll yet? A few minutes and this place will be crawling with firemen and IAA.”
“Here,” I said, and tossed her my extra UV flashlight. “Help me search through these. Look for the symbols.” I hated exposing any of the scrolls to UV, but there was no other way we’d find the supernatural needle in the haystack. Besides, we couldn’t take all of them and figure it out later—five maybe, not thirty.
Nadya caught my flashlight and started searching through the second case. “Rule out anything singed or damaged. The spell scroll is near indestructible,” she said.
The first four in my case were an easy rule out. Singed from too much sun exposure over the years, probably in someone’s private collection. The next four were covered in typical Balinese writing from the ninth century, also an easy rule out. Worth something, but not what I was looking for today.
I shook my head. “I think these are all a bust—”
“What about these two?” Nadya said.
I moved to the second case. Nadya had made it halfway through, and she shone her light on two scrolls near the center. My heart rate jumped; the writing was definitely not Balinese. I kept myself in check until I found something I recognized. I re-angled my flashlight to get a better look at three symbols in the bottom left-hand corner, like a signature. Both looked uncannily like the writing on the tablets. “Go figure, what are the chances two spell scrolls are sitting in the same place?” I stood on my toes and aimed the flashlight to get a better look . . . if I could just find a matching set of symbols, any matching set of symb
ols . . .
Sirens sounded in the distance and closed fast. Nadya ran to the window and peeked through the heavy blinds that protect the museum from sunlight.
“Hurry up. The fire department is here, along with an unmarked SUV.” Unmarked SUVs—the favorite transportation of IAA officials everywhere. My heart rate spiked.
“I’m going as fast as I can.” But it was no use. I needed to take the scrolls out to figure which one was which. “Keep an eye on the firemen.” I went for my tool kit, then changed my mind as I caught sight of a silver trash can sitting in the corner of the room. I ran for it; I didn’t have time to be fancy and careful.
I hefted the trash can over my head and brought it down on the glass. It bounced off, sending a painful shock through my shoulder. Damned reinforced Plexiglas. I hit the cabinet again. This time it cracked.
“Alix, they’ve opened a metal box on the side of the building, and they’re arguing with someone, looks like faculty.”
“As long as they’re outside,” I said. I brought the trash can down for a third time and the Plexiglas broke. If breaking the display cabinet set off a second alarm, and I’d bet money it had, I didn’t hear it over the fire alarm. That wouldn’t last long though, with the firemen here now. I grabbed the two scrolls and unrolled them. Come on, symbols, give me something I recognize . . .
There it was, in the middle of the page, a set of three symbols that matched the blood ones from the first Bali temple. I shoved the scroll in my bag and shoved the second one inside my jacket. Just in case.
“Come on, time to run for it,” I said, and bolted towards the exit I’d used to get in.
We’d reached the main exhibit display room when the fire alarm shut off. My ears were relieved, but my stomach turned as I heard the quieter, second alarm that said, “Intruders.”
“Shit,” I said.
“Alix! You set the alarm off.”
“Didn’t have time to disarm it.” I slid into the back door and tried the handle.
The first drop of water hit my face. At first, I thought it had to be a mistake. What kind of an idiot rigs a museum with sprinklers? Then the second and third drops hit, and Captain howled inside his carrier.
Behind me, Nadya swore. “That was what the faculty was arguing with the firemen about,” she said.
I hesitated. The spell scrolls in my jacket and purse would be OK—magic is a real bitch that way—but everything else in the case I’d broken would be ruined in a matter of minutes.
“Here, take Captain and go,” I said.
“Don’t you dare—”
But I had already bolted. “One minute,” I yelled back at Nadya. I skidded to a halt in front of the broken case, my sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. Maybe I could stash the scrolls under something . . . or at least save a few and sell them to interested buyers who knew not to install an automatic sprinkler system. I reached the case—some of the scrolls were already wet—and grabbed four that had ancient Balinese on them, pushing them into the other side of my jacket. The rest I could . . . Oh, hell, I didn’t know what I was going to do with the rest of the scrolls. I couldn’t fit all of them.
“Looky, looky what we got here,” I heard a familiar, singsong voice say from the main stairway behind me.
Bindi.
With the sprinklers going, I’d missed any residual rotting lily of the valley wafting off them. I started to edge around the cabinet so I could make a run for it . . .
“Stop right there, birdbrain, or I’ll shoot,” Bindi said, making a show of the gun in her hand.
I did as I was told . . . holding a broken piece of Plexiglas.
“Now raise your hands up and turn around. Slowly.”
“Sure thing,” I said, and launched a piece of broken glass at her head.
She screamed and ducked out of the way. Leave it to a good old-fashioned California girl to protect her face. I ran for it.
“Nadya, run,” I said, hoping to hell she’d left with Captain already.
Someone slammed into me from behind and knocked me to the floor, hard. I kicked and tried to scramble away, but they had a solid grip on my ankle. I managed to twist myself around so my face wasn’t planted into the tile floors. Red had my legs pinned down and Bindi stood over me, hands on her hips and grinning. One look at Red’s drawn and haggard face told me who’d been getting the better deal over the past few days. “I’d fold your cards now, Red. You won’t last another week with Sabine,” I said.
Shock flickered across his face, chased by a vicious snarl. His fist slammed into the side of my head. “Says the woman ruining the entire East India Company’s collection.”
It was my turn to be shocked. “I’m ruining it? The hell I am! I’m not the idiot who put a sprinkler system in—”
Red snorted and I sighed. There was no winning. And no use explaining it was an accident. Besides, he’d just hit me again.
Bindi knelt beside me, her wet hair brushing my face. There was something different about her . . . somehow she seemed less of an addict than she had a few days ago . . .
“You know, I really should thank you. We’d have never found the scrolls on our own. Good thing we knew you’d be here.”
I closed my eyes. Oricho must have told Lady Siyu, or she’d found out where we’d been heading and let Marie know.
Why didn’t anyone ever listen to me?
Bindi was still smiling as she leaned in until she was an inch from my face. Red had me pinned down so tight that I couldn’t even twist my head away from her. She began to sniff my skin, and a fresh hit of rotten lily of the valley hit me.
Shit, she was a vampire. And she was drinking from the same pot of crazy juice Marie was.
“Let’s see what you have in here, shall we?” she said, and pulled open my jacket. She grew enraged as she pulled the Balinese scrolls out. She waved them in my face. “Which one is it?” she said.
Poker face, don’t fail me now. I tried to look pissed. Bindi slugged me.
“Give me that,” Red said, and shifted his weight so his legs were pinning me. He held out his hand for the scroll. After a moment he frowned. “These aren’t them, they’re Balinese. Check her again.”
Bindi glared at Red before reaching into the other side of my jacket. I could tell she was supposed to be the dominant one in this relationship and didn’t like Red questioning her, even when he was right.
Instead of going for my bag, Bindi found the spell scroll hidden under my shirt. “What about this one?” she said, handing it off to Red. I started to struggle.
“That’s not it—” I started, but Bindi slugged me again. It had the desired effect; she stopped looking.
Red tried to shelter the scrolls in the remnants of the broken case. He frowned. “I can’t tell for sure. The symbols aren’t distinct enough. I think this is it,” he said.
Bindi snatched the scroll back from Red. I cringed, half expecting it to explode.
While Bindi struggled to read the scroll, I caught a shadow move behind the clipper hull. It was Nadya, with something slung over her shoulder, moving undetected under the sounds of the sprinklers and the arguing. Without alerting Red, I strained to see what she was carrying. It was an old musket with a bayonet from the armory display. “What do we do with her?” Red asked.
Bindi smiled and I felt my heart race, but not out of fear. Bindi had been lying on me now for a few minutes. I’d been careful with my breathing, but pheromones were still hitting my system.
“Sabine wants her alive, but that doesn’t mean we can’t play with her first.” Bindi showed me her fangs. “Now tell me, little birdy, where’s your friend and the cat? Sabine’s been asking about them too.”
“Eat garlic, bitch,” I said, and spat in her face, fighting the pheromone pull.
She just smiled wider, not the least bit fazed. “Keep it up, canary. As soon as I bite you, you’ll be begging to tell me everything.”
I made a face at her, trying not to glance over and give Nadya away.
She was almost behind Bindi and Red now. A few more steps and she’d be in striking range . . . I’d need to give her a distraction.
“I think I’ll make you skin your cat. For kicks,” Bindi said.
“Wonder what the Paris boys will do when they catch you? Not too much of a worry, I guess, since Sabine will have eaten you by then.”
Rage took over her otherwise pretty features. “Why you little—How dare you speak about Sabine that way—”
Nadya stepped out from behind the ship hull and drove the bayonet through Bindi’s chest. She jerked forward, and Red loosened his grip on me. It was all the chance I needed. I drove my elbow into his face and connected hard with his nose. “I’ll take those, thank you very much,” I said, and grabbed back the scrolls. No sense breaking the ruse now. I scrambled out from under him and ran for the door.
“Nadya, run! She’s a vampire now,” I yelled. Nadya swore and dodged as Bindi lunged for her. The bayonet did little more than piss Bindi off, but lucky for us it was giving her logistical problems; she couldn’t maneuver fast enough.
Nadya slipped by her and was a few steps behind me when Red recovered enough to trip her. She fell with a yelp and started to drive her boot into his face. He yelled as she connected with his already broken and bleeding nose.
But by that point Bindi had pulled the bayonet out and was heading straight for Nadya. “Sabine told me about you,” she said, as she closed in.
I slid to a stop behind the clipper hull. Nadya could handle Red on her own; it was Bindi I was worried about. I glanced around the exhibit for something to distract her with.
Captain’s carrier was sitting by the black stairwell door, where Nadya must have left it. I did a double take. Captain was almost through the mesh. I pss’t to get his attention as quietly as I could. He saw me and chewed through the last bit of mesh keeping him inside. He bunched himself, ready to charge the vampire. I help up my hand and hoped to hell he’d stay. He wasn’t happy, but he waited.
OK, now I needed another distraction. Come on, think, Owl, think . . . I noticed the fluorescent light flickering behind Bindi. The bayonet was a foot or two away. I hoped the grad students here never bothered checking for ammo either, then dove for it.
Owl and the Japanese Circus Page 29