It was getting late, but I knew it couldn’t wait until morning. I went back down stairs and found Greer sitting at his desk in the library, shoving an envelope out of sight as I walked into the room.
I know all about that. We’ll get to that later.
A feeling of loss swept through me as I looked around the impressive room. I wondered if this would be the last time I ever saw it. Greer must have felt it, too, because his face was afflicted by something other than the expression of a man who’s just won the war. He smiled faintly, but all I saw was apology or commiseration for what was about to happen. I wondered how he knew.
What’s the matter? Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for?
“I think I have something,” I said.
He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.
Greer hung up his cell phone and tossed it on the console of the Lexus. We took his backup ride, because parking a Ferrari on the streets of New York was just stupid.
“Ava will meet us down there.”
It was nine thirty when we headed downtown to Den of Oddities and Antiquities. I’d expected an inquisition back at the house, but Greer said nothing. We walked to the garage in silence and sat in the car without looking at each other. When I turned to speak he simply asked, “Where?”
Ava got there the same time we did. Her chest heaved when she looked at me, and I considered wrapping my arms around her and telling her I still loved her. But the betrayal still stung, and I wasn’t quite ready for forgiveness yet.
The keys rattled in the lock as she struggled with the simple task of opening the door. Greer took the keys from her hand and opened it himself.
As I stepped through the front door, I was right back in the place I remembered as my second home. Even though I’d been back here a couple of times since returning to New York, the place still sent a swarm of memories through my head each time I stepped across the threshold. I was still surprised and a little saddened by how much the shop had changed in twenty years. But the smell of old herbs, still permeating the wooden drawers that stretched all the way up to the top floor, reminded me that underneath all those changes, the soul of the shop was the same.
When I turned around, Ava and Greer were waiting for me to make a move for what we’d come for. In spite of their anticipation, they said nothing and allowed me to move around the room at my own pace. My eyes leveled on theirs as I walked toward them. They stepped aside as I continued to the spot directly behind where they were standing and placed my hands on the long display case that contained the most valuable objects in the shop. The vampire hunting kit was still there. A couple of new items were in the case: a dagger with an intricately carved handle in the shape of a snake, and a plain wooden box with H. Houdini engraved on the top. But I was looking for something that wasn’t new.
“I was afraid you’d sold it.” I exhaled the breath trapped in my lungs as my eyes locked on the object, afraid it might disappear if I looked away. I straightened up and pointed to a large book at the bottom of the case. It must have been two feet long and five inches thick, with a heavy cover holding the massive tome together. The book was not attributed to any author, and I got the distinct feeling that it just sort of created itself. The cover matched the stationery my mother’s letter was written on, but instead of the elaborate Celtic design in the center, it was the frame around it that caught my eye. The silhouettes of two facing ravens bordered the sides of the watermark. An optical illusion created by the simple placement of light and dark made the birds practically invisible. But it was a single word that bellowed off the cover that completed my revelation. Written in large crimson letters was the title—Magic!
“That?” Ava said. “That book has been in the shop for over twenty years. It’s a powerful magical reference. It’s not for sale. For any price” She was indignant at the suggestion that it might be for sale.
I’d told Greer about the letter on the way down to the shop. His eyes never left the road as I confessed, telling him about Hazel, the letter, and the obscure help I’d gotten from Constantine—omitting the part about Paris because it would only add piss to the ongoing feud. He showed no reaction to any of it, but I knew he wanted to stop the car and educate me on why I would never keep secrets from him again. It wasn’t necessary, because the silence was just as effective at making that point.
Ava went around the counter and searched for the key to the case. Priceless objects, or those costing more than a month’s salary, probably needed to be secured under more than a sheet of glass with a mini lock.
She slid the heavy book out of the case and nearly stumbled as she tried to move it to the solid wood at the far end of the countertop. She didn’t dare place the mammoth book directly on the glass. Greer grabbed it from her just before it went sailing to the floor.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” Greer said as he looked at me.
I moved closer to the book and reached for the cover.
“Wait.” Ava pulled a pair of white gloves from a drawer.
I stood back and let her take charge of the thing. None of us had any idea what we were looking for anyway, so I thought it wise to let her handle the rare book.
Ava opened the cover to the first page. There was no table of contents or forward, just a page with the number 1 printed boldly about a third of the way down. The words were written in calligraphy, and I wondered how many hands it took to scribe the mountain of pages we were about to wade through. If I started today and wrote for the rest of my life, I doubt I could record as many words as the book contained. This was a work completed over many years.
One page at a time, we worked our way through the massive book. Most of it was skimmed because reading every word would have taken weeks, and without a clue as to what we were actually looking for, that was our only feasible option.
We worked through the night, taking brief breaks to keep the coffee fresh and scrounge up whatever we could find in the small kitchen. By nine the next morning, we had less than a thousand pages to go.
“This is insane,” I said. “There’s nothing here.”
Greer and Ava ignored my whining and continued plowing through the pages.
“Can we please just take a break?” I asked. “Is it too much to ask for a bagel?”
“Fine.” Greer glanced at his watch. His own fatigue was evident by the lines forming on his forehead. “I’ll get breakfast. Let’s move this sucker to the coffee table by the sofa. My ass is killing me.”
We’d spend the last eleven hours hovered over the counter, sitting on wooden stools without cushions. A solid meal and a soft seat was exactly what we needed to get through the balance of the pages.
The book weighed a ton. Greer grabbed it before Ava had a chance to protest about him not wearing gloves. He hefted it up from the counter like it was nothing, and to Ava’s horror, tossed it on the oak coffee table. The book settled on the surface with a loud thud.
“What the hell was that?” His eyes darted to the book.
“I didn’t hear anything.” Ava looked at me for confirmation that she wasn’t the only one not hearing anything.
I shook my head, but we both knew his hearing was superior to ours.
“What did you hear?” I asked.
He lifted the edge of the book an inch off the table and dropped it. “You didn’t hear that?”
Ava and I shook our heads. Greer was about to repeat the action when Ava’s head snapped up. The look on her face told me she’d either heard it, too, or something just ran up the back of her skirt. Her mouth and eyes opened wide like a child seeing fireworks for the first time.
“The back,” she said. “Flip it over—carefully.”
Greer did as instructed and gently turned the book over. Other than the normal signs of wear and tear for a book that old, the back cover was unremarkable. “Nothing!” he yelled.
I glared at him, making it clear that shouting was counterproductive.
&nb
sp; “Oh, but there is.” Ava ran her hand over the leather like she would a vintage Chanel handbag, and then she opened the back cover. “I’d forgotten about it. I found it years after acquiring the book.” She felt along the bottom edge. “Until about two hundred years ago, the title of the book was something very different—a façade used to conceal its true purpose. They used to hide written spells in here in case the authorities came banging at the door.” Her hand stopped halfway between the spine and the outer edge. “Ritual tools were sometimes made out of wax so they could easily be thrown into the fire if intruders interrupted a rite. A smart witch was a live witch.”
Greer’s hand went for the book.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Maeve was the only other person I trusted with this book. She knew about its secrets, too.” Ava pressed her finger against the edge, and the back cover gently popped and split into two separate panels, the inner one a thinner shield to the much thicker back. I’d noticed that the front and back covers were unusually thick, but that seemed normal for a book this size.
I think we all stopped breathing as Ava lifted the inner panel and revealed a hollowed-out compartment. As if on cue, we all leaned in to inspect the piece of paper stuffed inside the hidden space, meticulously folded into a neat little origami pouch.
“Whoa,” I said. “What is it?” I reached for it without thinking, and it rattled once. I reached for it a second time, and the damn thing started shaking like a vibrator. Ava and Greer eyed me suspiciously. Both of them reached toward the pouch, but it remained perfectly still. I shook my head when Greer went to grab it. “It’s mine.”
“Then take it,” he said.
“Patience, Grasshopper.”
He looked at me strangely.
“Well, at least we know who it likes,” Ava muttered.
“Or doesn’t like,” Greer countered.
I leaned in closer, inspecting the carefully constructed pouch for any impressions made by whatever was inside. “Three’s a charm.” It nearly jumped out of the book as my hand came within an inch of it. “Don’t tell me there’s something alive in there.”
“May I?” Ava asked, glancing at me for permission.
I nodded once. “Be careful.”
“I’ve handled stranger things.” A deep breath preceded her tentative reach for the pouch. As if pinching a butterfly by its wings, she grabbed it by the corner and held it at arm’s length.
“It’s from Maeve,” Greer said, reassuring her that nothing harmful would be inside because it was meant for me. If there was any question, I had no doubt Greer would have cleared the room before deactivating the threat himself.
She felt something firm but inanimate in the center and then carefully deconstructed the folded pouch. “This must be what Greer heard.” Her hand trembled, and the object slipped from the folds. It bounced off the wood floor before settling under the table.
My eyes darted to Greer's a second before I dropped to my knees and reached under the table.
“Wait,” he said.
It was too late. My arm flailed blindly as something cold wrapped around my hand. As I extracted my arm from under the table, my eyes caught the first glimpse of what I thought might be an illusion. A silver chain swirled tightly around my wrist, the end resting under my fingers as they folded over my palm. I slowly opened my hand as the three of us looked at the object glimmering against my skin. It was the amulet—or a damn good replica.
The beginnings of a laugh slipped from Ava’s mouth but stopped when she glanced at Greer. He showed no reaction at all, but we both knew by the way he was looking at it that he questioned its authenticity. But I had no doubt it was the real thing because my mother led me to it.
“How the hell did it get in that book?” I unwrapped the chain from my wrist and let the amulet dangle in the morning light streaming through the window.
The bell on the front door chimed. The shop didn’t open for another hour and the door was locked, so whoever entered had a key.
All of us turned in the direction of the door.
“I put it there.” Melanie Harris, the woman I’d met that first day I came to the shop, stood in the doorway as the amulet swung from my hand.
Before I could open my mouth to speak, Greer lunged past Ava and swiped the amulet from my hand.
“Hey! That belongs to me.”
“It certainly does,” he said, “and you just marked yourself for every wolf, witch, and amateur to smell you out.”
He was right. It was a stupid thing to do. Technically, the amulet came to me, but it was my decision to shove my hand under that table when I was sure I’d seen it fall. The instinct to retrieve my birthright trumped common sense.
My head whipped back around to Melanie, who was now making herself at home behind the counter. “The shop is opening in less than an hour.”
“Never mind about the shop,” Ava said. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
Melanie looked up from the counter as if recognizing the profoundness of the revelation for the first time. Her neutral expression turned grave as she approached and sat in the chair on the other side of the table. Her eyes immediately went to Greer who clearly made her uncomfortable, but when she spoke she looked directly at me. We spent the next few minutes listening to the woman tell us the elaborate story of how one of the most important artifacts on the planet got into the big book of magic.
“Maeve was more than a good friend,” Melanie began. “She was kin. We grew up together, learned our craft together.” She hesitated as she looked around the table, as if catching herself for telling secrets that weren’t hers to tell.
Ava nodded, reassuring her that it was safe to be candid.
“You were such a small thing when I came to New York.” She was speaking to me again. “Two weeks after I arrived, Maeve told me about the shadows.”
“The barcodes,” I whispered.
Ignoring my strange reference, she continued. “She knew they were after her. Two days before she was—” The word stuck in her throat. “She asked me to do something for her. You were safe as long as you had Ava to look after you. I was only supposed to be the backup plan.”
“Backup plan for what?” My anger grew at the thought of a premeditated plan.
“For Ava.”
My eyes darted to my right, but Ava just shook her head in confusion.
“You disappeared. When you returned last year, I had no choice but to make good on my promise.” Her demeanor went from sheepish to stern. “Maeve’s instructions were explicit. If anything happened to Ava, I was to get my hands on the amulet. When the two of you disappeared, I thought it was over. Then you came back. Maeve told me to hide it in the book. That book is a fortress. It’s warded so heavily no one would ever detect it in there. She told me to leave the city when it was done. I never questioned it. I just did what Maeve asked me to do.”
I remembered the first day I met Patrick. Melanie was on her way out of the shop. Her eyes popped when I said my name, and as she introduced herself, she looked at me like she knew me.
“I don’t understand. Why would she ask you to hide the amulet from Alex?” Ava asked, clearly as bewildered as the rest of us.
“Maeve believed that the people who were after her would come for Alex, too.”
She was right. I’d been a target since I stepped foot on New York soil.
“She knew the only way to keep Alex safe was to get the amulet away from her.” She looked at me again. “She said she had friends who would be looking for you, but she didn’t know who would get to you first. Hiding the amulet was just supposed to buy some time until the right people found you. She said you’d find it.”
I knew who those friends were, and it made me feel worse about not telling Greer about the letter sooner.
“But how did you get it?” I asked.
“It wasn’t very difficult for an old witch like me. I simply followed you, Alex. Once I knew where you were staying, it was easy to s
lip up to your room and glamour the housekeeper. I waited for her to open your door, and then I slipped in behind her and asked her to come back later. She gladly complied. The rest was easy.”
Greer, who had been sitting motionless through the entire explanation, lifted off of the sofa and moved toward Melanie. I thought we were about to witness a felony, because his eyes had gone dangerously dark. He towered over the frightened woman and then dropped into a crouch, gently taking her shaking hands between his. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice was calm, devoid of the aggression masking his face. “Why didn’t you contact Ava?”
His thumb calmly stroked her hand, but it couldn’t stop the veil of grief from rolling over her face as she realized the harm she’d done. No one in the room questioned her loyalty, and we all knew she was an innocent player in what had become a dangerous game. Pure loyalty is a rare thing, second only to love—two things I knew she felt for my mother.
“Maeve was adamant. She was already putting me in danger.” She looked back and forth between Greer and Ava and I could tell she was looking for acknowledgment that she’d made the right choice in following those instructions. “She wouldn’t allow me to go any further with it. I was told to drop everything and leave New York—to ensure my own safety. The scent of the amulet was all over me.”
“So that’s why you left so quickly,” Ava said.
“Yes. I got back a few days ago and contacted Patrick last night. Had I known I’d caused so much trouble, I would have come back sooner.”
The look on her face diminished any doubt she was sincere, and I envied the closeness she must have had with my mother. It was selfish to think I was the only one who deserved her love.
One thing was still eating at me.
“Why did they kill her?” The question wasn’t really directed at anyone in particular. “If my mother controlled the amulet, why kill her?”
The Amulet Thief (The Fitheach Trilogy Book 1) Page 25