“Like what?”
“—something I can say—”
“How about goodbye?”
“I’m trying to explain—”
“Explain what? Robbery and assault?”
“Listen to me!” he hissed. Theo took a step back, surprised, but her fists were still clenched and ready, just in case. “I didn’t want to do it either, do you understand? I’ve spent years helping build this collection! But circumstances—circumstances weren’t favorable.” He wilted a little, his own sudden burst of anger spent. “I had to make my move.”
For a moment, Theo’s rage abated. He was sagging, his eyes hooded, deep lines appearing in his skin as his face fell into a mask of exhaustion. He looked…worn. Weary. For a moment he looked older again.
Then common sense reasserted itself, and the sting of eyes fighting back tears brought the dust cloud of the nightmare back to her. Theo set her jaw and refused to let herself think that way. She had to stand her ground.
So he looked sad. Big deal. He had also burgled the museum, possibly ruined her career and made her more miserable than she had ever been in her life. Another crack appeared in the dam, and she took a step towards him, keeping one hand on Little John’s base to steady herself. She was so angry that her knees were shaking, and she needed the feel of the cold stone to help her focus.
“You,” she said softly, coldly, “are asking me to understand—and forgive—what you did. Understand and forgive your breaking into the museum and destroying invaluable artifacts. Not to mention hurting me, almost ruining the exhibit and wrecking the loft. I could lose my job because of you. And you want me to feel sorry for you.” She took a deep breath, fighting for calm. “How many ways do I have to say no?”
“I’m sorry I hurt you... and for everything else too.” Theo could see Adler’s hands clench in his pockets. “But I’m trying to tell you that that’s not the way it is. Can’t you believe me?”
“No. I can’t. You stole that mummy!”
“It belonged to me!” he snarled. His eyes were two sharp points of light in the dark hollows of shadowed sockets.
Theo was too angry to be nervous anymore. “No. It didn’t. You helped get it for the museum, but with our money and for our collection. I don’t care what kind of fucked-up fixation you have, you wanting it doesn’t make it yours!”
“You don’t have all the facts, Theo. And you’re not letting me explain.” His lips were tight, his expression drawn. “There’s more to it than that.”
“More to what? You drugged me!”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how did I see—”
“Me die?”
Theo stopped, mouth half-open. Emotions flooded her, rage and hatred, joined by confusion, frustration, sadness and a kind of fear she wasn’t sure she could explain or name. Adler’s words, their speaker utterly set in his convictions, were a slap in the face. How could he not get it? How did he not realize ruining the collection wasn’t something he could explain away? Tears pricked again, escaping easily now and staining her cheeks with the remnants of her cheap mascara.
“Enough,” she said as calmly as she could, wiping away the tinted tears. Adler’s expression was strange—almost confused, his eyes tracking over her as if trying to figure something out. Well, that was his business. Theo was done. “I can’t do this, Mr. Adler. I just… Please. Go away. I know what you did, and you haven’t said a thing to convince me it wasn’t just a plain old robbery. Have a nice time at the exhibit, and don’t forget to visit our gift shop.” She turned on her heel.
“Theo—”
For a moment, the rage flared again. “That’d be Miss Speer to you,” she said without turning around.
“Here.”
There was a rustle of cloth, and Theo looked despite herself. Adler was drawing something out of his pocket. A handkerchief, white linen with SRA embroidered on it.
His expression was conflicted, and the shadows under his eyes were deeper than ever. But all he said was, “This might help.”
Wise words. If he’d said, “You look like you need this,” Theo might not have been able to keep her new, fragile calm. But the offer and the strange look on his face made her reconsider for a moment. After staring very deliberately at the handkerchief, she took it and quickly mopped her face, leaving blue-gray streaks of Long & Lashious on the soft cloth.
“Waterproof, my ass,” she muttered to nobody, and Adler’s mouth quirked. It vanished quickly, but she’d spotted it.
“Things don’t always do what they say on the label,” he commented neutrally.
She met his eyes again, trying to show him she still wasn’t scared. Hell, she wasn’t. Anger and exhaustion had wiped out any chance of that. “Yeah. You can never trust anything to act like it’s supposed to.”
“Subtle.” Dry as the desert.
“But still true.” She folded the handkerchief neatly before handing it back. His forefingers touched hers, rough and blunt but no longer coarsely calloused, the skin smooth and supple, instead of worn like a middle-aged man’s. Her skin tingled, and she could feel the warmth rising in her face again. “Enjoy the exhibition,” she said quietly.
“Theo,” he said. His fingers folded around hers, and she didn’t pull away. She could feel the fine muscles shifting under the sleek form of his hand, warm and real. Her heart ached, and she didn’t know why. Her lips parted.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
Her breath caught in her throat. His hands sank into her hair, broad fingers threading through the ashy blonde as cautiously and tenderly as if he were holding the gold she painted so often. Rough lips ghosted over hers, tentative for a second before taking the plunge.
Somehow, she was in his arms. Warmth—warmth and a shuddering need—coiled through her as she pressed against him. He dipped his head, trailing a kiss down her neck and lightly scraping the pulse point there. Theo let out a low moan.
The sound surprised her and yanked her back to reality. With a yelp, she slammed her palms into Adler’s shoulders and pushed him away.
Clearly Aki was right—too much time at work, not enough time dating.
Adler looked dazed, his color high, and Theo knew she had to look the same. The son of a bitch could kiss, she’d give him that. But…
“Theo—”
“Miss. Speer.” She turned on her heel, her jaw clenching. Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. She heard him shift behind her, a few faltering steps before he stopped again, and she just kept walking. She had to, or she would do something she’d regret.
The other side of the T. rex wasn’t far enough. The other side of the hall wasn’t even nearly far enough. Stumbling only a little, she half ran straight for the nearest security door and swiped her pass with a trembling hand. She didn’t feel better until the door was closed behind her.
This city. This godsdamned, freezing necropolis of a city was doing horrible things to his head.
Snow crunched under his shoes as he stalked across the parking lot, trying to ignore the voices of the other departing guests. The sky was deep indigo, not a star to be seen, and the lights shining down on the parked cars tinted the ice a dirty orange. Even through three layers of clothing, the wind whipping off the lake seemed to bite him right to the bone.
As if it had heard him, the wind picked up, raising a little flurry of new-fallen snow and sending it whirling around his feet. Seth thrust his hands deeper into the pockets of his overcoat and tried desperately to think warm thoughts. Sun, sand, a broad, flat river sliding along placidly in the warmth of summer. For a moment, he thought he could smell the rank bogs of the shallows, and he fought the urge to close his eyes and enjoy the memory. The asphalt was still treacherously icy.
With a sigh, he pushed the memory aside. As nice as it would have been to be someplace else—someplace where they saw snow once every hu
ndred years—it wouldn’t help to pretend now. No matter how much he’d rather be overseas than stuck one more fucking day in this cold, evil, cold, confusing, cold…
His car chirped as he unlocked it, gloved fingers fumbling awkwardly with the key-chain remote. With luck, at least, he wouldn’t have to stay in Chicago much longer. Once he could disappear without drawing too much attention, he’d pull up stakes and move somewhere quieter. And warmer.
But the worst part was that he knew he was just trying to distract himself.
Evidently, he was getting senile in his old age. It was the only explanation for the way he’d been behaving these past few days. He should have knocked Theo out before she’d seen too much, let her convince herself she’d imagined him as the thief. They could have had a laugh about it later. He hadn’t needed help carrying everything, so why had he made a mess for himself by involving her? It could have been easily avoided.
Yet he hadn’t wanted to. A man who’d lived a long life had so much more to lose, and if he’d been sane, he’d have doubled down on his efforts and put the mummy and the shabtis first. But he actually hadn’t wanted to. He’d chatted with her, laughed with her, liked seeing the world through her eyes. She thought about colors and professional reputations and the beauty of what was, to her, history.
There was more too. The body he now lived in knew what it had seen before his spirit entered it. Normally such memories were just darkness, but this one had scraps of words and images there.
It’s okay, little guys. Everyone has shitty friends at one point or another. You’ll get there.
He could see her: face blurred by weak memories and half an inch of plexiglass, her hair just a smear of yellow as she leaned against the case. There was a smile there, he thought, as she talked to him…it.
That’s the problem, right? Bullshit. Some guys just don’t know how to behave.
What do you think? Should I do it?
Don’t worry, little buddies. We appreciate you. Been there, done that.
She probably didn’t even realize she’d been doing it. Muttering to herself, muttering to the shabtis, talking to them even while she sketched them in their stiff little rows. She had no idea what they really were. Not something she could be blamed for, since no man alive knew it. But thanks to what she was and how she did her job, she’d come closer to the truth than anyone in a long, long time.
The thought ate at him. All things considered, he barely knew the damn woman, but the shabtis did and it bled through their link until Seth didn’t know what he was doing. Their clay had awakened to her voice and they cried out for her.
He should’ve known the hearts were a bad idea. But nothing else had worked…and he’d wanted to live so very badly.
With a groan, Seth slammed the car door behind him. The Mercedes purred as the engine turned over, stark-white headlights stripping away some of the orange-tinted shadows in the parking lot. The snow on his coat began to melt into droplets, and the warmth of the heater and the luxurious seats clashed with the residual chill of the winter night, making him shiver.
He had to get out of the city. Soon. A few more months, at most, and he could put it all behind him. Hopefully.
The loft was quiet. It was too big and open to completely block off with crime-scene tape, but flags of it were wound around several pillars and pieces of furniture, reminding onlookers that this was part of an active investigation and they shouldn’t linger. The computers were all off, the supplies left where they’d been dropped on the night of the robbery. A darkish smear near the bottom of the scuffed table leg might have been blood, but Theo decided it wasn’t. There was no sense in jumping to conclusions when it was probably just a discoloration in the metal.
It wasn’t right, seeing the loft like this. Aside from the police tape, everything was just the way it had been days ago when the incident happened. Her mental image of her workspace was lively, full of colors, motion, arguments and accidents and pressure. The robbery had turned the artists’ aerie into a museum piece, preserved at the moment of whatever it was that happened. Like Pompeii or Palmyra.
She glanced down. The dust was gone, and from the streaky marks, the carpet had been recently vacuumed. Collecting evidence.
Her tablet and laptop bag were gone, left in the prep lab, and likely impounded for examination by the police. But tablets always broke at the worst possible times, and Theo had learned to keep a work-grade spare in her bottom drawer. She fished it out and settled into her chair, hesitating only a moment before firing up her desktop computer.
She probably should have waited for a less suspicious-seeming time. But she had to retrieve her files, right? Only someone using a museum-authorized machine could access their shared server, but it was easy to download the files and mail them to herself.
Theo’s head was beginning to ache. It had been a long, exhausting day, and she needed time to process everything. Probably time to go home and get some sleep. She stared at the file for a moment, then moved the mouse to the X in the corner of the screen.
It would’ve been a good design, really. A little stiff now that she reexamined it, but maybe if the priest’s hand were resting a little more naturally…?
With a sigh, Theo leaned over the tablet and erased most of the hand. This wasn’t going to leave her alone until she fixed it.
As she dug into the problem, sketched out the new lines, a sort of peace began to settle onto her. The world narrowed down to a sequence of colors and forms, all complex in their own way, each demanding attention and care. Deviations a few pixels’ width could skew a line, killing the motion she was trying to capture. It was something she had to concentrate on, because only she could make sure its little world didn’t go wrong.
It was nice to have a problem she was capable of solving.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the rattling elevator. Figuring it was Aki or Jem or one of the others, she didn’t look up from her work. Between the residual aches and the buzzing in her head, it was hard enough to focus, and she couldn’t spare the brainpower.
Footsteps came towards her cubicle. It wasn’t Aki or Jem, though. A blur of red caught her eye and she turned a little, curious despite herself.
Mark Zimmer had loosened his tie and his suit jacket was gone. He carried a metal case under his arm, about the size of an encyclopedia volume, and had a determined look on his face like he was about to do something he wouldn’t enjoy.
For a moment, she wondered if he was about to fire her after all. Maybe he’d learned something. Maybe they’d gotten access to some unhacked security footage and seen…something.
A heavy feeling settled in her chest. She shifted a little, trying to keep her eyes on her work and vaguely hoping that he would disappear if she didn’t look at him. Unfortunately, he instead moved closer. For the first time she noticed that he smelled like sandalwood cologne.
“I was talking to some of the other donors, and I might have put some pieces together. Theo, I need you to do something.”
Her hand twitched, smearing a line. “What? What kind of something? Am I getting kicked out of here?”
The Security chief smiled a little, and the expression looked more uncomfortable than ever. He never did learn how to make himself likable…and here comes the traitorous comparison… and there it goes, squashed before it had a chance to really form. The pleasant look just didn’t compute on him, but Theo felt a surge of affection for the honesty of it. He didn’t want to be here any more than she did.
“No, nothing like that. It’s not a nice thing, though.” He shifted his grip on the box under his arm. “I talked to the police handling the investigation, but there’s nothing solid yet. They’ve questioned him, but the police seem to think there’s no real reason to look further. All they want is hard evidence; gut feeling, or witnesses, don’t count.”
Ah. He wanted something, all right, and he
had to be playing this tune at least partially for her benefit. But good cop, bad cop worked for a reason, and if even a little of his emotion was genuine, she was grateful for it. After spending days feeling like she was going insane, it was nice to think that someone else believed what she’d said.
But those thoughts were dragging Theo away from the most important part of the conversation, the one he’d perhaps hoped to slip past her while greasing it with sympathy. “Mark,” she said as evenly as she could, “what do you need me to do?”
“He’s holed up in his place. His townhouse. Ever been there?”
“No,” she said, “I haven’t. He lives in the Gold Coast, doesn’t he?”
“Not quite. Three floors of a skyscraper in the Loop.” Mark’s tone was definitely disdainful this time. “He says his family’s owned the property since the Great Fire.”
“I live in the Loop too,” Theo pointed out. If he was going to crucify Seth Adler, it had better be for something he couldn’t also catch her on. There were plenty of legitimate reasons to hate the man, besides his living arrangements.
“Not like this, I bet. Guy’s rolling in it, and he’s got no damn reason to do what he did.”
“He said it was a matter of life and death.” And why the hell was she repeating what he’d said? Was she trying to defend him, or just make sure he was pilloried for the right reason? Maybe all that time painting contorted faces in execution scenes had left her jaded.
“It’s a good line,” Mark said, tucking one hand into his pocket. “It’s easier if he can make it sound like he’s doing it for a noble cause. Did he say what was life and death about it?”
“Not really, no. He kept saying I wouldn’t understand. And when I ran into him tonight”—she didn’t miss the flicker in Mark’s gaze at that—“he said he was just reclaiming what belonged to him. He seemed to think it was some kind of moral issue.”
“Sounds like a vigilante.”
Sleeplessness had its effects. For a moment, Theo’s image of Seth Adler acquired a cape and cowl. He already had the utility belt, she thought wryly.
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