Relics

by K. T. Tomb

She made sure that Phoe would show up for lectures and even accompanied her when she took the speaking engagements on the road. Eloise spared no expense in honoring Phoe for her contributions to archeology.

  Eloise was in her mid-40s, five feet tall and stocky. She had short black curly hair and still wore the same thin framed-glasses she’d had for years. But it was her smile that warmed up even the coldest of hearts; Eloise simply had a way with people.

  The celebration was booked at the El Alcalde Room inside the Taos Convention Center and even though there was a maximum capacity of forty-five people, she had gotten the fire marshal’s permission to squeeze in another fifteen. That night was going to be Eloise Rojas’ defining moment.

  ***

  Phoe was running late because she had absolutely nothing to wear for anything as fancy as an award dinner. She’d known about it for two weeks but hadn’t had the time to go out and buy a dress, mostly as a result of all the time she had been spending with Charlotte at Simple Treasures.

  She put on a pair of black jeans with some heels and a blue silk blouse. She finished the ensemble by wearing her black leather jacket which stopped at her waist. She hated to wear makeup, so she didn’t, except for a little bit of mascara and a touch of flesh colored lipstick.

  She had Charlotte help her put her long black hair up. Charlotte thought Phoe should leave a few strands of hair falling on both sides of her face. She reluctantly agreed.

  Phoe burst through the doors of the El Alcalde Room to see a packed room with Eloise at a podium in the middle of the room near the far wall. There was a large banner with a picture of Phoe’s head directly behind Eloise.

  Eloise smiled.

  “Here she is now, ladies and gentlemen! The woman of the hour… Thalia Phoenix!”

  Phoe looked around as everyone rose to their feet and began applauding. She made her way slowly while waving awkwardly to her fans. As she approached the podium, Eloise held a plaque and a two-foot statue made from bronze in Phoe’s exact likeness. The statue was on a marble base.

  “Wow,” Phoe said quietly.

  Eloise handed her the awards and hugged her, then walked away from the podium. Phoe clumsily tried to hold on to her prizes, but decided instead to put them down before she dropped them. She took her place to address the crowd and saw Simon and Jonathan Kessler standing near the door in the back. They both had tuxedoes on.

  She giggled as she shook her head and raised the microphone to her mouth.

  “I am truly touched by all of this admiration and appreciation, but I feel somehow lost in all this attention. I never do anything for the attention.”

  Jonathan laughed. Simon poked him with his shoulder.

  Phoe sighed.

  “I just love giving back to the community that embraced me and my store, Simple Treasures. I thank you and will continue to give to the arts because I truly believe that everyone has the right to enjoy our precious history.”

  She glared at Simon.

  “These treasures are not just for a handful of people to own. They belong to all of us.”

  The crowd cheered and applauded again as Phoe made her way down from the podium. She looked over all the faces of her admirers as she made her way over to Simon. The one person that she thought for sure would be there to congratulate her—or at least to show support—wasn’t there.

  Peter Kellerman was noticeably absent.

  Phoe shook hands and smiled until she stood in front of the Kesslers. She was ready to let Simon have it for allowing Jonathan to interrupt her speech when she realized that she forgot something important.

  Her awards!

  Phoe turned toward the crowd and made up her excuse.

  “I left my awards at the podium for everyone to enjoy until I leave! Please feel free to… touch them!”

  She turned back around and lost her smile immediately.

  “I don’t mind you showing up to support me. But can you keep your pet on a leash if he’s going to misbehave?”

  “Hey!” Jonathan huffed. “We came to—”

  Simon shook his head before Jonathan had a chance to finish.

  Phoe looked suspiciously at Simon.

  “You didn’t come here for support. Did you? What is it, Simon?”

  Simon actually looked nervous as he handed Phoe a folded-up piece of paper. She took it and unfolded it. She looked puzzled.

  “Is this a joke, Simon?” she asked, as if she already knew the answer.

  He shook his head. Jonathan crossed his arms in front of him and looked down at the floor.

  Phoe knew something was wrong, but what he handed her was unbelievable. She wondered whether she should follow her gut and wait until they were in private before she grilled him about his strange behavior. Her other gut wanted her to confront him right where he was.

  Her average for guessing correctly about which gut to follow was never exceptionally high. She had a disgusted look as she moved closer to Simon.

  “The… lair of Beowulf?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded.

  “You better start talking, Simon, or you’re going to piss me off,” she responded. “You can’t just hand me this bullshit and then stand there like a damned mannequin.”

  She looked around to see if anyone watched the trio, but it seemed that everyone else was preoccupied with touching and admiring Phoe’s awards.

  “Alright Simon,” Phoe snapped. “First of all, if I am reading all this right, you want me to find something based on a poem about a fictional character, that’s over twelve centuries old. Then you want me to find this fictional character’s lair? Do you know how crazy that sounds? Never mind being a goddamn waste of my time and energy!”

  Simon looked at Jonathan, who then sighed and left the room. He glared at Phoe, hoping she would understand that something was amiss. To her, it was the whole Hammer of Thor all over again.

  “Simon,” she said, as she gritted her teeth. “I understand that something is keeping you quiet. My question then is: Why would you show up in a public place to get me to go after yet another of your little fantasy things? The lair of Beowulf, Simon? Guess what? There is no record, in prose or otherwise, that depicts Beowulf of ever having a lair.”

  Phoe got closer to Simon, more out of intimidation than anything else. His eyes pleaded with her. His pleading looks fell on blind eyes.

  Her frustration mounted with each word he didn’t say and soon she’d had enough.

  “The lair of Beowulf?”

  Her voice carried throughout the entire room. Everyone turned and stared at Phoe. Her outburst was unexpected by almost everyone.

  Phoe no longer cared about living up to appearances as she continued to verbally berate Simon.

  “That’s worse than asking me to find Mjolnir! That’s like asking me to find Thor’s favorite goat! Beowulf was an epic poem and nothing more! And he didn’t have a lair! Now Grendel, he had a lair!”

  Simon looked stressed out as he finally spoke.

  “You have no idea how sorry I am, Phoe. I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. Suffice it to say that I believe you will now find the item I seek.”

  Phoe looked around the room to see if there was someone there who spooked him. She saw no one suspicious.

  “Suffice it to say that I am not on board with your crazy adventure. You can hire Peter for this. I’m busy!”

  Simon did something completely out of character, even for him. He embraced Phoe. While his head was close to hers, he whispered, “I’m afraid, dear Phoe, that you no longer have a choice.”

  Phoe’s mouth dropped open in surprise as Simon hurried out of the room and the building.

  Chapter Two

  Charlotte had her feet up in the living room. She was watching Downton Abbey while she munched on a big bowl of popcorn. She had her hair up in curlers and she was dressed in her long, oversized nightgown; the one with the flowers and lambs on it.

  Phoe stormed into the house and almost broke the glass in the back door that
led to the kitchen when she slammed it shut behind her. She was more than upset. Simon had gone too far. There had to be a limit to Simon’s eccentricities and she’d had enough of his whims.

  The lair of Beowulf? Really?

  Charlotte rushed into the kitchen where she saw Phoe pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. She had already started to drink from the carton when Charlotte walked up to her and placed a hand on Phoe’s shoulder.

  “I guess I’m not going to ask you how the award ceremony went, sweetie.”

  Phoe took a big gulp of milk and set the carton on the countertop.

  “I can’t handle it anymore, Charlotte! I can’t do this running around the world looking for things that aren’t supposed to exist! I’ve seen some insane and unexplainable things! I… I just can’t do it anymore.”

  Phoe stood in front of a small kitchen window as she grabbed the carton for another large gulp. As she raised the carton to her mouth and tilted it upward, the kitchen window shattered, and the carton exploded from her hand. Phoe stood in shock. There was chocolate milk all over her clothes, the countertop, and the floor. Slowly, she turned to look at Charlotte, who was holding her left shoulder with her right hand. When the hand came away, it was covered in blood.

  Charlotte’s eyes widened as she dropped to the floor.

  ***

  Phoe stood by Charlotte’s bed in the hospital. She had spent a few hours in surgery as the doctors had removed the 9mm bullet from her shoulder. Charlotte slowly opened her eyes as Phoe held her hand and wiped the tears from her swollen eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Charlotte. Somehow I know this is my fault.”

  Charlotte smiled weakly. “I’d never blame you for anything that was beyond your control, sweetie.”

  “Maybe the bullet wasn’t meant for Charlotte,” said a familiar voice that came from the doorway.

  Phoe turned to see Peter standing there with a dozen roses. He seemed genuinely concerned.

  Phoe walked to the back of the room and continued to dry her teary eyes. Charlotte smiled at the roses. “Are those for me, Peter?”

  “Of course, Charlotte,” he answered. “Who else could they be for?”

  She pointed to an end table near the bathroom. “Thank you so much. Please put those beautiful things over there, would you? Perhaps you’d like to talk with another beautiful thing while you’re here.”

  Phoe turned around and gave Charlotte a dirty look. Peter walked up to Phoe and forced a smile. “Why don’t you let me drive you home, Phoe? The doctors said that Charlotte needs rest.”

  “What if whoever shot her comes back?” Phoe asked, even though she knew what Peter would say next.

  He looked over at Charlotte. “Like I said, I think you know who that bullet was for. I’ll be outside when you’re ready.”

  ***

  Phoe looked out the passenger’s side window during the drive back to her house. She remained quiet, despite several attempts by Peter to engage her in conversation. He even tried to tell her a couple of old, stupid jokes. Finally, he decided to get to telling the truth.

  “Simon offered me a job.”

  Her head turned slightly, as if she tried to make sure that she could hear everything else he had to say on the matter.

  “I accepted his offer to go after the lair of Beowulf,” he continued. His breathing slowed and his heart raced because he anticipated a battle.

  “That’s great,” Phoe replied, emotionless. “I suppose you’re aware that there isn’t a shred of evidence that suggests a lair ever existed.”

  “I’m aware of that,” he answered as he smiled. “I jumped at the chance because it means travel and, hopefully, a little less adventure than when we went off to find the Hammer of Thor.”

  She sneered.

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Besides,” Peter continued, “Simon said that he sent you on another mission.”

  Phoe’s eyes widened.

  “Stop the car!”

  There was a panicked look on her face and Peter almost lost control of the vehicle.

  “Calm down, Phoe! It’s not that big a deal! We can work—”

  “Not that, you idiot!” Phoe screamed, pointing out the window as he pulled the car over to the side of the road.

  About 100 yards away was Simple Treasures, the place that Phoe had built from the ground up. She put more hours, sweat, and money into that store than anything else she had ever done. Her business had been booming since she’d found Mjolnir with the help of Peter and Jonathan. She had gotten her first real artifact soon after that.

  The Head of Olmec.

  She couldn’t fight the tears as they streamed down her face. Peter finally saw what she was pointing at and got out of the car. He knew that there was nothing he could do, so he stood in front of the car and frantically ran his hands through his hair.

  Phoe’s heart sank in her chest as she dragged herself from the car and watched the red, orange, and yellow dancing in the reflection of the windshield. Simple Treasures was on fire.

  In the distance, she could hear the sound of fire engine sirens. Help was on the way. Somehow, Phoe managed to gain control over her emotions and turned to Peter and asked, “What were you saying about Simon sending me on another mission?”

  Chapter Three

  Phoe sat on Peter’s sofa, sipping a glass of chamomile tea. She stared straight ahead, not making a sound.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Peter yelled from his kitchen. “I have some leftovers! I think they were tacos at one time!”

  Phoe didn’t answer as Peter came into the living room. He grabbed the remote and turned on his 62-inch HD television. CNN popped up on the screen. He muted the sound as he sat beside Phoe.

  Peter had some expensive electronics, but for the most part, he lived in a southwestern-style house with basic amenities. He rarely entertained, so he kept his house to his own minimalist taste. The only time his competitive spirit was engaged was when he and Phoe went head to head concerning artifacts. She usually brought out his defensive side, but right now, she just needed a friend.

  “The fire department said that you can go inside the house to see if you can salvage any personal belongings, once they’re satisfied that the fire is completely out,” Peter said, trying to comfort her.

  She slowly turned her head and gave him a dirty look. “You do realize that everything I have—everything I’ve worked for—is gone. Whatever is left in there is useless to me now.”

  Peter had no clue what to say to her. He knew nothing would make her feel at ease, except for finding the person responsible. She blamed only one person so far.

  “Simon!” Phoe yelled, as she glared at the television. “That bastard! Turn it up, Peter! Turn it up!”

  Peter fumbled with the remote until he found the volume. CNN showed Simon Kessler with an attractive brunette. The woman was at least a few inches taller than he was and had straight brown hair that fell down past her waist. It was easy to see that she came from money; her grooming and posture were a testimony of that, as well as the way she smiled. She knew how to work the cameras. She was dressed in a white pantsuit with beige Giuseppe Zanotti pumps. Phoe could tell that the woman had spent more time at spas than Phoe had learning everything she knew about artifacts.

  Her dark eyes were perfectly accented by the right amount of mascara and a light shade of red lipstick completed the package. She wore huge hoop earrings and almost mimicked the look of someone who would have been seen hanging around Andy Warhol in the sixties. The only difference was that this woman had class.

  Phoe’s focus was back on Simon as the volume came up.

  “Billionaire Simon Kessler is indeed engaged to British transportation heiress Symone Armette. The two were seen in Naples, Italy soon after they officially announced their engagement just one short week ago. The merger of Kessler Industries and Armette Transportation Inc. is said to be the biggest known merger of its kind in history. Their assets together are estimated
to total over 147 billion dollars…”

  Peter muted the television when he saw Phoe becoming enraged.

  “I’m sorry, Phoe…”

  “Did you know, Peter?” she asked, almost as if she was interrogating him.

  He wouldn’t make eye contact with her.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Phoe.”

  She glared at him.

  “How about you start with answering my question? Did… you… know?”

  Peter became nervous but realized it was futile in hiding anything from Phoe.

  “Maybe. I might have known.”

  Phoe continued her piercing stare.

  “When? When did you find out?”

  Peter felt nervous. He didn’t want to anger an already angry Phoe, but he couldn’t lie. Not that time. “I…” He sighed and braced himself. “About four days ago.”

  Phoe stood up. “I appreciate the tea, but next time, I prefer something stronger to go with bullshit.”

  “Phoe, wait!” Peter pleaded.

  She had a blank expression. “Wait for what, Peter? Don’t you think the day has gone bad enough for me as it is? Did you want to pour salt into the gaping wound?”

  He stood between her and the door. “Phoe! Please. I want to help you. I’m your friend.”

  “I can help myself from now on,” she replied. “I see how much your friendship means. I saw how Simon showed me all the respect in the world by somehow setting me up to be the target for who knows. Then he forgets to tell his most valuable employee that he’s engaged to some rich bitch!”

  “Are you… jealous?” Peter asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

  Phoe sighed. “That’s right Peter; I’m jealous,” she said sarcastically. “Please, I have better things to do than to hang my tongue out over a billionaire that sends me out to find the most outrageous things. I used to jump through his archeological hoops, but not anymore. I expect honesty from the people I work with and they get no less in return. I believe in omens and I associate very strongly with the mythical phoenix. Add that to the burning away of my old life along with Simple Treasures, and it’s about time for me to be reborn, buddy. I am about to rise out of my own ashes and it’s time to show myself what I can do without the confines of being trapped with people who don’t trust me and whom I have a difficult time trusting. It’s time for me to fly, Peter.”