The Art of Possession Page 20
Gerard had an officer holding on to each arm now, and he looked a breath away from collapse. “It’s… that’s… circumstantial, you can’t….”
“Aye, we’ll get around to matching figures with your bank account soon enough, sir. That’s what warrants are good for, you know.” He turned to Alex, the director, and myself and tipped his hat. “Sorry to interrupt your party, gentlemen. Looks like a heavy session going in here, so keep it civil.” He turned and headed out again, his men basically carrying Gerard between them like a rag doll.
I felt a little bit weak in the knees myself. “I’m not drunk, am I?” I murmured to Alex. “Or high? Feverish, hallucinating? Because that was the closest I’ve ever come to living out an actual dream, I think.”
Alex shook his head, but he was grinning wide. “You need a better class of dreams, Mal.”
“Good heavens.” The director was watching Gerard vanish into a Met car with a painfully blank face. He looked at me. “You… looked at the scepter we have in our possession right now. Is it the real thing?”
“As far as I can tell, yes,” I confirmed. “But word is going to get out about this, and no matter what kind of statement the museum puts out, I’m afraid anything associated with Lord Thorburn is going to be considered tainted. It would probably be best for the museum if you don’t include it in the exhibit.”
The director considered this for a moment. “You spotted one of his fakes before, didn’t you?”
“I believe I did, sir.”
“Would you be able to do it again?” He plowed ahead before I could answer, motioning several distressed board members away with a hand. “I’m going to need to look through the entire catalog of artifacts donated by the Thorburns for fakes. I would appreciate having an expert on hand to assist with that work.”
“I… could certainly do that for you.”
Ten minutes later I had a contract waiting in my inbox for a temporary “specialist” position at the British Museum, the ear of the director, and my villainous ex headed for interrogation while I got to walk out into the beautiful late spring day, scot-free.
Alex looked up at the sky. “Hey, there it is.”
“There’s what?”
“The sun. I was starting to think it didn’t exist here.”
I huffed a laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you not get enough of it while we were abroad?”
“I’m originally from Arizona. There’s no such thing as too much sun.”
Arizona, Arizona… where was that state? One of the middle ones? Who could even keep track of them all? I brushed his arm with my fingertips. “Seriously… what happened in there? Was it Robert?”
Alex lifted his phone and glanced at the screen. “I’ve got nothing new from him, so I doubt it. He’d give me a warning before he dropped a bomb like that. And Patricia’s working on Corday, not Gerard, so it wasn’t her.”
Actually…. “Do you think it might have been Corday herself?”
Alex thought about it for a moment. “She’d be in a better position than most to know local forgers and fences, but why would she bother? Our business with her is over.”
“Perhaps she didn’t consider it business.”
Alex looked a bit confused. “Then what, a… favor?”
I smiled and took my lover’s hand. “More like a good deed, I think.”
Alex gripped me back firmly. “I didn’t take you for such an optimist, Mal.”
I inhaled deeply. The scents of London filled me: the smells of exhaust and humanity and food from over a hundred different nations. It was the smell of the place I loved more than anywhere in the world. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and my future was bright.
“Today of all days, I believe I am.”
Chapter Fifteen
One month later
IT HAD become habit over the past week for me to leave Mal’s little two-story cottage as the sun rose and walk down the path to the coffee shop on the main street of North Cerney, less than three miles from where Mal worked at the Corinium Museum. Well, where he used to work—he’d just accepted a position back at the British Museum that would return us to London, but that was for the best.
It was where my own office was going to be, after all.
Things had changed for both of us drastically in a month. Mal had spent a frenetic several weeks investigating the Thorburn donations and come to the conclusion that nearly half of the items in the collection were fakes. Those conclusions were being verified right now. It was depressing work, he told me, but important. “People have a right to know if they’re looking at the genuine article or a fake,” he said, insistent even though I completely agreed with him. “There’s nothing wrong with imitations in some contexts, but not for the sake of supporting a lie.”
Mal wasn’t being brought back to the museum as a curator. He was going to be taking on the role of quality control, after a fashion—investigating artifacts and artwork, determining provenance, and hunting down the real items if a fake was being presented that way. It was a lot of responsibility, but he seemed excited for the opportunity. “It puts me in an excellent position to advocate for change,” he’d told me just last night. “You know we’ve got a meeting scheduled with the Malian ambassador to the UK next month? We’re going to talk about the scepter.”
“You might have mentioned it,” I commented. “Once or twice or five times.”
“I’m just excited! All right? I get a bit obnoxious when I’m excited.”
“You’re not obnoxious.” I kissed him lightly. “And I like it when you’re excited.” Things had proceeded nicely after that, and needless to say Mal was tired enough that he wasn’t going to be getting up anytime soon. I’d bring him a fresh cup of tea from the shop.
The cool air was crisp against my bare forearms, making the hairs stand on end. I stuck my hands in my pockets—should have brought my jacket. I picked up the pace a little bit and turned onto the main street.
There wasn’t much there, just a local pub and the new, tiny coffee shop and a few other stores. There was a primary school a few blocks away and a garden center, and that was about it for the village of North Cerney. I liked the smallness of it—it made it easy to tell when something was off. Like today.
There was another customer already in the coffee shop when I got there. She was sitting in the corner table, a newspaper held up so I couldn’t quite make out her face from this angle. I absently read the headline as I assessed what I could see of her: More Forged Artifacts Uncovered in the British Museum. That wasn’t the sort of publicity Mal would enjoy, but I’d bring him a copy of the paper anyway. I walked up to the counter, hyperaware of every sound. If I heard so much as a click….
“Got your Americano all ready, sir!” the friendly girl behind the counter chirped at me. “I’ll get the tea brewing now.”
“You know me so well already,” I said, handing over a ten-pound note and waiting for my change.
“I like to keep track of our regulars,” she said, handing over several coins and my Americano. “The tea will be ready in just a minute!”
“Thank you.” There was no sound behind me other than the turn of a page. I took my drink over to the corner table and politely cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I join you?”
The woman behind the paper lowered it a few inches. “I suppose not,” she said, folding it up and setting it to the side. She was quite beautiful, with short blond hair and a pretty paisley sundress. She had a cappuccino in front of her, and a half-eaten muffin on a nearby plate. “An Americano for the American, how predictable,” Corday said with a faint smile.
“You look different,” I said.
“So do you. This vacation has been good for you, I can barely see the bend I put in your nose.”
“Oh please, that bend was there long before you went and reinforced it.” I sipped my coffee. “What’re you doing out here?”
“Would you believe, actually, that I heard a very unsubtle man has been looking for me? H
e’s put out all sorts of feelers into my community, which is rather bad for business. I came to see what he wanted.” Her smile was bright, but her eyes were dead serious.
“Sounds like you have an admirer.”
“Admirer?” She laughed, then lowered her voice. “Are you joking? I almost killed the pair of you! If meddling in my business is your way of getting me back for that, that’s one thing, but don’t lie to me about—”
“I’m not lying,” I broke in. “My company is looking to hire a freelancer with your particular skill set, and they authorized me to make contact with you so I could relay the offer. That’s all, and that’s the truth.”
“KIS wants to hire a thief?” She looked skeptical. “Why?”
“An acquisitions specialist,” I corrected her. “Because if there’s one thing my boss and I learned on this last job of mine, it’s that I didn’t have the skills to get it done well. I managed, but not without a lot of luck. Nobody else on KIS’s current payroll is any better suited for the recovery of inanimate objects than me, so….” I shrugged. “We need a contractor. It’s that simple.”
She looked like she was barely keeping her mouth from dropping open. “That simple. Hiring a woman who nearly murdered you and your professor.”
“But you didn’t. And from everything Patricia has been able to dig up in your file, you never have murdered anyone. You understand the art of the threat, of the setup. You understand the art of the steal.” I slowly reached into my pocket, fully aware that she was probably holding a weapon on me, and brought out the flash drive I’d been carrying around for just this occasion. “The details are on there. Sample employment contract, fee structure, and Robert Kensington’s personal information. Just in case you decide to take me up on my offer.” In the event that it sweetened the deal for her, I added, “There’s a contract in there for Fawkes too, if he’s a sticking point. Never leave a man behind.”
“Oo-rah,” she muttered, handling the drive like it was a cockroach. “Well. This has been a most unexpected meeting, Mr. Tucker.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. “Don’t expect to hear from me.”
“I’d never expect anything from you,” I said, completely honest. “But I’m opening up a satellite office for KIS in London, so if you want to reach out, I’ll be available.”
She smiled. “In that case, don’t expect not to hear from me, either. Have a good day. I hope the professor enjoys his tea.” She walked off, and a second later the girl at the front called out, “Tea’s ready, sir!”
I got up from the table, took the paper cup as I thanked her, and headed outside again. The air was already warmer, all set to be a beautiful July day. I sipped my coffee appreciatively as I headed home, back to Mal and to the life we were building together. Soon we’d be looking for a new place in London.
Life was all about second chances. I hoped we weren’t the only ones who took advantage of them.
More from Cari Z
Jonathan Hatcher has led an interesting life. Once the psychic protégé of Dr. Nelson Cagney of the Bureau of Psychological Corrections, he escaped and went on the run through post-World War Three Europe, scraping a living out of the ruins of civilization and avoiding the mindless vics: humans turned berserker by exposure to biological and chemical weapons.
Once again at Cagney’s mercy, Jonathan is stuck in PsyCo’s high-security wing with no idea whether Sam, the man he thinks he may love, is alive or dead by his hand. Though at first he only plays along for news of Sam, soon Jonathan sees the conditions in the warring European Coalition are desperate. Sam and Jonathan must make a choice: make for France and a life together… or team up with their captors against a devastating new threat.
Their love will either inspire change in the world or tear it apart.
Former starship captain Jason Kim and his lover, Ferran, are starting a life together on Ferran’s native planet. The Perel matriarchs reluctantly allowed their marriage in the hopes of securing better diplomatic relations with humanity, even though the decision ignites anger from traditionalists. Ferran’s family accepts Jason and the love the two men have found, but other influential families are less accommodating and much less willing to welcome an outsider to their isolated, subterranean world. Some of their enemies are willing to go as far as eliminating Jason permanently. Tensions are quickly building toward a breaking point that might push Perelan into a bloody civil war.
If Jason and Ferran have any hope of surviving the coming conflict, they’ll have to rely on their devotion to each other more than ever before. But that won’t be easy when a figure from Jason’s past reappears to make them question everything.
A fragile heart needs extra care.
Burned-out social worker Aaron McCoy is on vacation for the first time in years—boss’s orders. Road-tripping to his brother’s wedding with his best friend, Tyler, seems a fun way to spend the mandatory two-week leave, and they set out for Kansas—and a difficult homecoming.
Aaron’s mother was a drug addict, and his adorable younger brother was quickly adopted, while Aaron spent his childhood in foster care. As Aaron mends fences, Tyler hopes to show him that this time, he won’t be left behind to face his problems alone.
Aaron’s opening up to how right it feels to be with Tyler and to the possibility of taking the leap from friends to lovers. But along with the wedding celebration comes a painful reminder of the past. Aaron’s heart is still breakable. Can he put it in Tyler’s hands?
Lee Summers is past expecting to find love. He has a fulfilling career and a few human connections, and he’s determined to be happy with those. When he meets Felix Clymenos during a vacation in Colorado, he doesn’t expect to feel so passionate about him. Felix is intriguing, but when he starts to feature in Lee’s dreams—and his slowly strengthening nightmares—Lee wonders if it wouldn’t be a better idea to walk away. There’s a mystery behind Felix’s affections and somehow Lee feels like he’s known Felix his whole life. Before they can be happy together, Lee has to know why that is… and what that means for their future.
When Ward Johannsen’s little girl Ava shifted into a werewolf, she was taken into custody by the feds and shipped off to the nearest pack, all ties between father and daughter severed. Ward burned every bridge he had discovering her location, and then almost froze to death in the Colorado mountains tracking her new pack down. And that’s just the beginning of his struggle.
Henry Dormer is an alpha werewolf and an elite black ops soldier who failed his last mission. He returns home, hoping for some time to recuperate and help settle the pack’s newest member, a little pup named Ava who can’t shift back to her human form. Instead he meets Ward, who refuses to leave his daughter without a fight. The two men are as different as night and day, but their respect for each other strikes a spark of mutual interest that quickly grows into a flame. They might find something special together—love, passion, and even a family—if they can survive trigger-happy pack guardians, violent werewolf politics, and meddling government agencies that are just as likely to get their alpha soldiers killed as bring them home safely.
Readers love Cari Z
Handle With Care
“I just loved how Tyler and Aaron’s bond of friendship morphed into romance among the diverse elements of the story, concluding with a steamy, sexy HEA. Recommended!”
—Jessie G Books
Off the Beaten Path
“Off the Beaten Path was a really engaging shifter story, all the more noteworthy for being like nothing I have ever read in this subgenre.”
—Joyfully Jay
“I had a hard time putting this down. Filled with interesting world building, great, well-fleshed-out characters, and an interesting plot, this was a very entertaining page turner.”
—Gay Book Reviews
Changing Worlds
“Changing Worlds left me seeing stars with a happy heart….”
—Book UNfunk
“…Cari Z has written a lovely sci-fi romance that is fre
sh and enjoyable, while avoiding the tropes prevalent in this sub-genre.”
—The Novel Approach
CARI Z was a bookworm as a child and remains one to this day. In an effort to combat her antisocial reading behavior, she did all sorts of crazy things, from competitive gymnastics to alligator wresting (who even knew that was legal!) to finally joining the Peace Corps, which promptly sent her and her husband to the wilds of West Africa, stuck them in a hut, and said, “See ya!” She also started writing then because what else are you going to do for entertainment with no electricity? She writes award-winning LGBTQ fiction featuring aliens, supervillains, soothsayers, and even normal people sometimes.
You can contact Cari at carizabeth@hotmail.com. In fact, please do. She’d love to hear from you.
Website: cari-z.net
Blog: carizerotica.blogspot.com
Twitter: @author_cariz
By Cari Z
The Art of Possession
A Blinded Mind
Changing Worlds
Different Spheres
In Memoriam
Off the Beaten Path
With Caitlin Ricci: Worth the Wait
DREAMSPUN DESIRES
#68 – Handle With Care
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
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