Gryphon and His Thief (6 page)

"You stare at me as if I am something you
covet," he said. "And though I appreciate your admiration, it's not
a wise expression if you do not want to follow through with
it."

Her gaze riveted to his and her eyebrows
lifted as she realized his meaning. "Duly warned, Big Boy. So…do
you want to let us in?" She nodded toward the door.

He did a little eyebrow raising himself.
"Surely, I'm surprised you are not already making yourself at home.
You had no difficulties earlier this evening as to letting yourself
inside. And…" he pointed to the window void of glass. "It looks
like locking up would prove ridiculous at this point, don't you
agree?"

"
Tsk tsk
… Don't be rude."

"Rude? I am the one being—" He shook his
head, clearly exasperated, and murmured something in a language she
didn't recognize, but she had a hunch by the tone it was not a
litany of her finer qualities.

His hand reached for the doorknob and it
glowed a rich gold color as if it were recognizing a DNA imprint. A
second later, Darrien pushed the door open and he stepped aside to
let her enter ahead of him.

"Who said a Gryphon couldn't be polite?" she
teased and threw him her sweetest smile as she strode inside. He
didn't look overly pleased – probably because she couldn't quite
say
Gryphon
with a straight face. But then, he was inviting
a thief into his house of treasures… Well, sort of treasures, if
you were into cursed items.

Once the door was closed the room seeped into
shadows, but she could make out the outline of Darrien and his eyes
glowed in the dark with a gleam, reminding her he harbored the
beast inside of him. "Do you have lights in this place?" she asked,
expecting him to ignore her request, but without him moving – as
far as she could tell – the lights overhead illuminated the room in
a soft glow. "Nice trick." He lifted his shoulders in a shrug,
making her wonder what other nifty tricks he could do. Shifting
into a beast and back to human, flying, and slipping out of
handcuffs came to mind.

"Why are you here, Calli?" he asked, forcing
her to focus on the reason she'd returned to the scene of the
crime.

She did love the way his words slid off his
tongue. He was Greek, she supposed. He was a Gryphon and she was
sure the mythical creature's legends originated there. She almost
chuckled.
Mythical? Hmm...the myth was pretty much put to rest
tonight.
"I came back to the motel to free you," she said
lamely.

"You did?" he asked with a frown as if he
hadn't thought of the possibility.

"How else would I know you'd come back here?
You somehow wiggled free." She paused and hoped he would fill her
in on how he managed the magic trick, but he remained silent.
"Well, okay then," she continued with her explanation. "I assumed
you'd return to the museum eventually." Her lips curved into a
grin. "I decided to go with my instincts. They've never steered me
wrong yet."

"Is that so?" he muttered, not appearing in
the least bit convinced.

Yeah, she hoped her freaky sixth sense hadn't
gone whacky from her electrical jolt from earlier or otherwise this
little detour may very well prove her last.

If she remembered her Gryphon tales, they
were like Dragons. In the sense they probably snacked on thieves.
She blinked back her thoughts of mayhem and possible death and
focused. "I never trusted Professor Leander," she announced, and
that caught Darrien's attention. At least he lost some of his
hostile stance as he tilted his head in a birdlike fashion. She
hurried on to explain. "That's the woman who hired me. Not to say I
trust you either, but maybe I should have all the facts before I
decide what to do with the stone."

For a long moment, Darrien stared at her as
if she were an object he had yet to identify with his eagle-eye
expertise, but then he spoke, "You are a strange thief, Calli
Angelis."

"Are you trying to give me a compliment?"

"No," he said dryly and pursed his lips.

"Oh…well…" she cleared her throat. "Professor
Leander wanted the stone and paid me well to retrieve it. She had
documents and proof that the item belonged to her, or rather the
Leander Corporation who funded the archeologist team and who
unearthed the site where the stone was found. I believed I was only
retrieving the artifact and returning it to its rightful
owner."

"She has lied to you," Darrien snarled and
his nostrils flared as if the thought of someone lying about owning
the stone was a worse crime than her waltzing in here and stealing
it.

"I kind of figured you'd say that," she said.
"However, how do I know you aren't the liar in this scenario?"

"Gryphons never lie," he said with a huff of
annoyance.

She tapped her forefinger on her chin and
narrowed her eyes. "Now see, how would I know such a thing since I
believed a Gryphon to be a creature of mythology and not a beast
that had made it onto the
Ark
."

Again his dark brow rose. "You do have a
sense of humor, do you not, Miss Angelis?"

His sensual kissable lips slid into a smile
that made her knees weak. "How do you know it is Miss and not
Misses?" she asked, just for the heck of it. Was it wishful
thinking on his part?

"Because," his throaty rough-warn voice said,
"you're my soul mate and I know you haven't been with another male
in some time."

"Uh…what? Forget it." She held up her hands
and took a step back. "Put on the breaks, buzz kill. Now you just
ruined the moment, and I don't want to know how you figured that
out."

"Buzz kill?"

His frown only made him look more adorable,
but his
soul mate kick
put a damper on flirting with him.
She sighed with regret. The idea of sneaking another kiss just to
see where it would lead had been tempting too. It's a good thing
his words slapped her back to reality.

"Listen, I believe you're looking for this."
She slipped her hand into her pocket and retrieved the pouch. "The
stone's in here." He moved so fast she would have sworn he had
blinked into nothing then reappeared in front of her and all before
she had time to blink herself. "What the—"

"Hand it over," he demanded and she took
another step back just for breathing space.

"I'm rather surprised you asked," she said.
Her gaze landed on his eyes, the true tell of his emotions, and she
swallowed the lump in her throat. "Can you stop with the
weird-as-hell eye
thing-y
?"

His head tilted to the side, a movement
reminding her of a bird of prey. "I do not know what you mean."

"Right. If you could only see what I'm
seeing," she murmured more to herself than to him. "Anyway, before
I give up the stone here, I want to know your story and why I
should give a flying crap what you say about it."

"You do know I could just take it from you,"
he said and the meaning behind his words did not go unnoticed, but
he felt the need to clarify. "It wouldn't be pretty. The beastie
inside of me demands justice and you stole what it guarded."

"But you won't hurt me, will you?" She smiled
and took a chance her assumption was correct. "Because you believe
I'm your soul mate," she added.

Chapter Eight

Calli stood perhaps five feet four-inches
tall, petite, but what she lacked in height she certainly made up
with her Amazon warrior tactics and bravery. She did not fear him
in the least, and Darrien had no doubt the woman knew what the
beastie was capable of doing. She didn't run, but came back to the
museum to face him and demanded answers on top of all of it. She
claimed he would not hurt her, but still she gambled with her life.
"Perhaps you are correct, but I would not be so smug with your
assumption. I would do all I could to keep
my Callista
safe,
but I am also cursed." He waved his hand around the room in a full
sweep to emphasize the many artifacts in the museum, and that he
was one of them. He watched her expression as her gaze took it all
in.

There were chairs of various sizes and
shapes; curio cabinets, some decorated with symbols, some with
items on the shelves, some with none. Dolls with beautiful curls
and pristine dresses stood at attention, while some were hideous
with clothes that were blackened, as if someone had tried to burn
them but hadn't succeeded. There were books stacked in one corner,
and clocks of various sizes ranging from alarm clock size to
Grandfather size in another… Of course, he knew she'd seen all of
it when she broke in, but not when the overhead lights were turned
on to highlight the objects with an eerie glow.

Finally, her gaze rested on him. "You are not
an item," she told him and lifted her chin in defiance. "You're
flesh and blood. You're real, and these are not." She pointed, but
not at anything in particular.

He chuckled without mirth. "I am indeed an
artifact as you shall soon learn for yourself. I am cursed and at
the curators' mercy. I am neither alive nor dead, but I have
traveled the world along with everything else in this museum, but
have never seen the sites of any of the places. My only purpose is
to guard." Her brows furrowed and he didn't blame her for not
realizing what he spoke of, but as soon as the sun rose high in the
sky, he would once again be still as the objects around him, a soul
trapped in the statue of a Gryphon. "When you arrived tonight to
steal Hecate's Stone – the official name if you didn't know—"

She rolled her eyes heavenward and he had a
hunch she'd known the name. Then he remembered the curators always
labeled everything. She most likely noticed the card beside the
artifact when her nimble fingers removed it from its berth. "You
stumbled upon a statue of a Gryphon, did you not?"

"How do you—" she began, but he interrupted
her.

"Your hand caressed the statue as if you
admired the fine art."

Her tongue slipped out to lick her lips as if
they were suddenly parched. "The Gryphon statue was you?" Her voice
held a note of doubt.

"Cursed, remember?"

"Wow. The story just keeps getting better and
better. I'm still getting used to the idea Gryphons exist, and now
you want me to believe you can turn to stone." She chuckled, a
nervous laugh as if all she learned was still being processed in
her mind. She ran a hand through her hair. The long strands slid
through her fingers, lifted away from her face, and floated down
around her features again like flames of dark copper and even
darker red. "Go on," she told him and he had to blink to
concentrate once more. His gaze caught sight of her striding over
to a chair, intent on taking a seat.

"No, do not sit there!" he warned, panic
making his heart beat faster and his body tensed as tight as the
wire of a bowstring ready to spring forward. His booming voice made
her jump, but at least it stopped her from making a big mistake.
Her gaze swept over him, fully expecting an explanation and he
didn't disappoint. "It's the chair of a convicted murderer," he
told her. "Upon the day of his execution, his last request was to
have that item – you were about to place your derriere upon –
delivered to his cell. It was from his favorite restaurant where he
had spent hours upon hours when he had been a free man."

"So what, he cursed the chair?" she asked in
confusion and when he nodded, she threw up her hands. "Why would
anyone do such a thing?"

"He didn't want anyone else to enjoy his spot
in the restaurant. Of course no one believed the curse and the
chair was returned to where it belonged, but when the patrons
started succumbing to horrible deaths, they changed their minds
soon enough."

Her lips pursed and she placed a hand on her
slim hip, not appearing convinced in the least. "Come on. Everyone
dies. I'm sure every death could easily be explained away."

"They died within a week of sitting in the
chair," he added and her face paled. "Go on. Test the theory and
plop down for a rest." He waved his hand at the item in question,
knowing it would be a challenge she would not take. She was a
thief, but she calculated her moves and didn't take unnecessary
chances.

"Okay, fine," she finally said with a
harrumph
. "I believe you. So where do I sit?"

"At the curator's desk." He pointed to the
wooden structure near the back of the room. "Should be safe enough.
I haven't found the curator's body decaying among the
artifacts."

"So nice to know," she said with a grumble as
she strode over to the desk and pulled out the leather chair
stationed behind it. She plopped into the chair and rolled it back
so she could place her booted feet on top of the desk. All nice and
comfy, she leveled her gaze on him. "Okay, spill it. Tell me the
rest of your tale."

He shook his head with a sigh and glanced
toward the broken window where the approaching day could be seen
with the sky lightening with each second that past. "I do not have
much time."

"You going somewhere?" she asked.

He turned to look at her. "Once the sun is
high in the sky, I turn to stone."

Her haughty expression slipped from her face
and she swung her feet to the floor and scooted to the edge of the
chair. "What do you mean? Like you're going to be a statue and you
can't just… I don't know," she snapped her fingers, "use your magic
and be human again?" Then it must have all clicked into place. "You
awaken when the sun sets," she said more to herself before her gaze
riveted to him. "When I broke in, you were still sleeping, or
whatever it is you do when you're frozen in time."

"Frozen in time is a good description, but
when you arrived the awakening spell was at work. It doesn't just
happen. It is a slow process."

She leaned on the desk and folded her hands.
"Go on then. Tell me as much as you can before you can't."