Gryphon and His Thief (10 page)

"Of course." He took the steps separating him
from the desk and sat down in the chair. He reached for the button
on the lower left corner of the monitor and the screen lit up.
"What do you want to look up first?"

"I tried to research Professor Leander, but I
only came up with things about her charitable contributions and her
papers on Grecian history and art. Every article praised her
expertise on the subjects, but I have a hunch this was a front for
what she truly does with her free time. Let's see if we can dig a
little deeper and find out what it is before I have to meet with
her." She glanced at her watch. "At the very least, I'll need to
phone her with an update."

"No matter what we find out, she cannot have
the stone," Darrien reminded her. "It's dangerous and no one should
be able to wield such power."

She'd already decided she wouldn't turn it
over, but she wanted answers. She didn't like being used, and
especially when it involved her being responsible for a possible
zombie apocalypse. "She's not getting her hands on it," she said
aloud, "but I have a hunch we're dealing with someone who can make
our lives miserable if she doesn't get her way. She didn't strike
me as the bow down and go away type."

"If Professor Leander is as powerful as you
claim, why didn't she just waltz in here and take the stone
herself?" His brows furrowed as he thought about the question he
voiced. Then his eyes lit up like he'd been given the best gift
ever. "She's a preternatural being. The museum is warded against
Otherworldly beings from willy-nilly taking items as they please.
Why else would Professor Leander not take action herself?"

She really did like the way he talked.
Willy-nilly
…cute. She cleared her throat and tried to focus
on the dilemma at hand and not how adorable Nerdy Darrien appeared
sitting behind the desk, all straight-laced and proper. She wasn't
doing a very good job of it. All she could think about was removing
his glasses and running her hands through his hair while she kissed
him. If she pushed his chair back, his lap would be available for
her to sit down and try out the fantasy.

Stop it,
she silently scolded herself
and bit the inside of her cheek to put a halt to her daydreaming.
This is what happens when she didn't have enough sleep. She became
willy-nilly
silly. She chuckled and covered her mouth.

"Did I say something to amuse you?" Darrien
asked and gave her a stiff upper lip.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm slaphappy here. I could
use a cup of coffee. Do you happen to have some stashed in that
kitchen of yours?"

"Sure thing. I have a notion to have a cup
now and again." He pushed back the chair and stood.

As she followed him into the kitchen, she
tried to remember what they were talking about. Oh, yeah… "You
mentioned the museum is warded against preternatural beings," she
commented. "How do you know this?" She had assumed he didn't know
about the preternatural world, but then again, he was the curator
for cursed artifacts. How could he not know?

Darrien opened a pantry next to the
refrigerator, stocked with cans, flour, cereal, and all kinds of
other goodies. "If you look closely at the museum walls," he said,
"you'll notice there are fine lines, symbols, and drawings. Those
are the wards preventing supernatural creatures from entering."

Her brow furrowed, not because of his
explanation about wards and etches on the wall, but because she
wondered who stocked his pantry. Beastie Darrien certainly couldn't
and Nerdy Darrien materialized every morning for the daytime job.
She pushed away from the wall and strode over to take a closer
look. She even went as far as picking up a can of beans. "Feels
real."

"Why wouldn't it?" Darrien asked and stared
at her in confusion. He then glanced at the coffee can he held.

"Who does your grocery shopping?" she
asked.

"I do," Darrien said. "Once a month I drive
into town and pick up a few items."

"So you can leave the museum for long periods
of time."

He lifted a shoulder. "I suppose, but I don't
leave often and I never had the need to do so."

"You never craved companionship? Never wanted
to just close up the museum and never return? What about
vacations?" She wanted to know everything about this version of
Darrien. Maybe if she put it all together, she could somehow help.
Who knows, maybe even put an end to his curse.

"I… numerous times, but I always…
Bollocks..." His gaze met hers. "I would get an anxiety attack and
decide against it. Even the jaunts to the market put me on edge if
I dallied too long." He sighed heavily. "I've been living a lie,
haven't I? My memories aren't even real. I'm no better than a
computer programmed to do simple tasks, and I didn't even question
any of it." He ran a hand through his hair. "How could I not
question things?"

"I don't know. I'm not an expert on curses."
Heck, she'd never encountered anyone who'd been cursed. "If you ask
me, I think even if you did question something, once you awoke the
next day, your doubts most likely were erased."

He pointed toward the door and said, "I'm no
better than those objects I guard. It's why I can enter the museum.
I may be a preternatural being, but I'm also enchanted like a
person in a demented fairytale, but I have a hunch no one's going
to kiss me awake."

Her brows rose. He knew about fairytales? He
sure was full of surprises.

He met her gaze and she had the urge to wrap
her arms around him and tell him it would be all right, but she
couldn't. It may never be all right for him. She settled on resting
her hand on his shoulders. "We're going to make this better, I
promise." In a sense, hadn't she already helped? Until today, Nerdy
Darrien hadn't known of his other existence, and tonight, she'd
update Beastie Darrien.

"I wish I didn't know," he said.

His words made her heart drop a beat. "What
do you mean?" she asked and feared she already knew the answer.

"The cruel joke is on me. I'll never do more
than waste away in this place." He strode away from her and headed
for the coffeepot on the counter.

She didn't know what to say. A moment ago,
she congratulated herself with a job well done when all she'd
accomplished was to make Darrien's existence a million times more
daunting. "I'm sorry." Of course, the words fell short and Darrien
didn't respond other than pursing his lips.

For a moment, they stood there listening to
the melody of the coffeepot gurgling and hissing its tune as it
brewed. The rich aroma filled the air and her mouth watered for a
taste despite the dire circumstances presented.

"It's not your fault," Darrien murmured at
last then glanced her way. "I'm cursed, but not dead." He
straightened his shoulders and stood taller. "If a curse can be
cast then there must be a way to undo it as well, yeah?" His
glasses had slipped and he nudged them back onto the bridge of his
nose.

He was definitely a trooper. She'd have to
give him that. Perhaps she could see how Callista had fallen for
such a guy. 'Cause if she were being honest here, she could do a
little falling herself. She shifted her stance and cleared her
throat. "Yeah," she answered him. "There has to be a way."

The coffeepot gurgling hit a crescendo before
it tapered to a sputter then one last hiss for the finale. Darrien
did the honors and poured two cups. She indulged with a careful sip
and would have taken a more generous taste, but her cell phone
vibrated. She lifted it from her back pocket and frowned as she
caught sight of the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" Darrien asked, concern
marring his features.

"It's Professor Leander."

"You shouldn't pick up," he said, panic
lacing his words.

"I have to. I don't want her becoming
suspicious." She was about to answer, but then on second thought,
she put the call on speaker so Darrien could hear the conversation.
Who knows, maybe he would detect something she hadn't from her
previous conversations with the woman. "Hello," she said in
greeting and hoped her voice sounded steady. Darrien stepped closer
to her as if he were afraid he wouldn't be able to hear the
professor from where he stood.

"Ah, Miss Angelis, you are awake," Professor
Leander said, her voice rich and with a hint of a Greek accent
flavoring each word. "I'm calling to find out if you've had any
luck acquiring the item we've chatted about. I must remind you, the
deadline is fast approaching."

She didn't have to remind her, she could
practically hear the tick-tock behind the call. "I'm working on
it."

Silence on the other end greeted them, but
then they heard the distinct tapping as if Professor Leander were
drumming her fingers on a hard surface.

Calli glanced at Darrien. His eyes grew wider
and those broad shoulders of his lifted in a shrug. She was at a
lost here too, wondering what Professor Leander pondered over.
Finally, the woman graced them with an opinion. "Work faster, Miss
Angelis." She ended the call with not so much as a goodbye.

"She's Greek," Darrien said, referring to her
accent.

Calli slipped the phone back in her pocket.
"Yes, so?"

"In Greek mythology, Leander drowned at sea,
trying to reach the woman he loved."

"And this has to do with what exactly?"

He shook his head as if he hadn't realized
he'd spoken out loud. "I don't know. You know when I told you I had
a weird feeling of
déjà vu
from a gesture you displayed?" He
didn't wait for her to answer but continued, "I had that same weird
feeling when I heard Professor Leander's voice. Like I should know
her. Like something as tragic as a man drowning at sea to reach his
true love – that kind of feeling.
Dread
…" he said the last
in a broken whisper.

Okay, can we say weird?
However, she
kept that tidbit to herself because, let's face it, the last twelve
hours had been a real trip down
Weird-As-Heck
lane and she
really wanted to take another path. "Since you never leave the
museum, except to the grocery store, how is that possible? Because
I highly doubt Professor Leander is shopping at your local grocery
mart."

"I don't know," he said with all honesty. He
removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes as if a headache throbbed
behind his eyeballs.

"Let's see if we can find Professor Leander's
photo on the Internet," she suggested. "Maybe if you see her face,
something will trigger your memory further."

"Good idea." He replaced his glasses on his
nose. "But first I must call someone in to fix the window."

While Darrien made his calls, Calli sat at
the computer and did a search for Professor Leander and her works.
She could hear Darrien in the kitchen as he called a few repair
shops. The first one he called must have been too expensive since
his exclamation was followed up by,
'Bloody hell, this must be
an elaborate jest on your part.'

She looked over her shoulder at him standing
in the archway, wearing an incredulous expression as he tried to
negotiate a fair deal to repair the window. He turned and she
stared at his broad shoulders and how they filled out his cardigan.
His behind looked good in those very proper chinos he wore too. The
man was really something incredible to look at. On a sigh, she
turned back to the computer. "Work before pleasure," she
murmured.

Twenty minutes later, he finally strode back
into the room. "The window repairman will be by in a couple of
hours," he told her as he approached the desk.

She glanced over her shoulder. "By the way, I
never apologized for breaking it. I hadn't wanted to damage the
place."

"I'm surprised you didn't hurt yourself." He
paused and then added, "You didn't, did you?" His brows furrowed
over the bridge of his nose and his gaze wandered over her with
concern.

"Surprisingly, no."

His features smoothed as he shook his head.
"I'd say you must live a charmed life."

"Charmed? If so, I would have stolen the
stone without a hitch."

"So, I'm a hitch, yeah?" He wagged his brows
at her and she chuckled at his sense of humor.

"You could say that. Come take a look here."
She scooted the chair over so he could move in closer. "Here's a
photo of Professor Leander." She pointed to the screen at a woman
with her dark hair coiled into a bun. It had been difficult to find
a photo of Professor Leander, at least one where Darrien could make
out her features. She seemed to avoid the cameras, turning away as
they shot the photo or lifting her purse to cover her face. This
photo appeared to be a candid shot someone took without her
realizing it. "Does she look familiar?"

"Hmm..." He leaned over her shoulder, so
close she could turn her head and place a kiss on his cheek.

She chewed on her lower lip. She seriously
had to rethink if she'd been hurt when she hurdled through the
window. It would account for her mind wandering where it had no
business going. It seemed the harder she fought the attraction to
Darrien, the worse it became. Then she remembered when Beastie
Darrien touched her hand in front of the motel room. The jolt of
electricity had made her fly through the air and when she fell,
she'd bumped her head. Her hand went to the base of her skull and
her fingers gingerly felt for damage. She'd been knocked
unconscious, surely there had to be a bump and…there it was. She
winced and Darrien's gaze riveted to her.

"Are you all right?"

Her hand fell to her side. "Yep, peachy." She
almost grinned with relief. Her odd attraction to Darrien had
nothing to do with curses and reincarnation or that he could kiss
her senseless. A bump on the head had to be the explanation.

He stood up straight then. "She looks
familiar," he said about the photo of Mrs. Leander. "However, I
don't know why. Let's see if there is anything else we can find out
about her."