Into the Ether (16 page)

 

Getting back inside the museum seemed to take forever.
Every stray sound made my heart rise in my throat and the box I was holding slip a little more in my hands.
When I finally slid inside, I was certain anyone within earshot could hear my frantic panting.

I ran toward the entrance to our rooms, but stopped short when I heard cursing and the sound of breaking porcelain and a dull thud that could only be flesh on flesh.
My shoulders twitched, and I moved cautiously through the shadows.

When the door burst open, swinging wide and slamming into the wall, I was a mere
handbreadth
away, crouching behind a glass case.
Three
burly
men came out, led by a short, portly figure I recognized too well.

Walter.

I
pressed my fist to my mouth
to keep from calling out.
The two men following had Colonel Worthington by
the arms, dragging his limp body through the doorway.
I caught a brief glimpse of his face, and bit my knuckles.
His face was a mess of blood and bruises.
His white hair was stained with
blood, and his clothing hadn't fared much better.

His head lolled back and forth and a low groan echoed through the gallery.
He must have been unconscious when the
y
brought him out, but he was waking now.
Walter turned, throwing a cup of liquid in the curator's face.

“Wake up, you old fool.
I know she's hiding in here somewhere.
You're going to call her out.”

The
colonel
spat.
“I'll do no such thing.”

His voice was weak and I
had to hold
back a whimper.
Fear warred with rage in my chest.
I wanted to rip them all limb from limb
,
t
o run out and play hero.
But my legs refused to move.

Walter sneered.
“You will.
You and I both know she's here.
And if she isn't, Spiros
will
bring her in.
You still have the location of the key.”

I couldn't see the curator's face, but his words oozed
genuine
confusion.
“
What key?”

“You can tell me, or I can get her to tell me.”

“
Even
if she could tell you, you won't catch her.
She knew if this happened
I'd
want her to run as far away as she could.”

My entire body
j
erked.
Colonel Worthington
knew
I was nearby.
He was sending a message.
One I didn't want to hear or object, even though I knew I couldn't
help
.

Walter
muttered an oath.
The curator laughed.

“
You
see,
Walter
,
if
she
gets
away
-
I still win.”

The traitor that he was, Walter cursed.
He paced back and forth, worrying the watch fob that dang
l
ed
from
hi
s
belly.

Before anything else could be said, a dark form melted out of the darkness.
Spiros
didn't
walk to Walter.
He stalked.
Anger vibrated along every line of his tense body.
The brief
glimpses
of danger he had shown me before this were
nothing
compared
to his
state
now.

“Is she here?”
he demanded in s
l
ow, slipped words.
“Or have you managed to
disappoint
me again?”

Walter's
forehead
glittered
with
moisture
.
“She hasn't shown herself yet.
But we have the curator.
She'll come for him.”

Spiros' lips curled in a sneer.
“Idiot.
I heard his
proclamation
as I walked in.
She would have as well.
He's as good as told her to run.”

Walter stared to
argue
.
Spiros
turned
away for a moment and the color drained from Walter's face.

“That's not necessary.
Not part of the deal.”

Spiros turned, a cold smirk in place.
Something was clutch
ed
in
his
hand
held to his side.
“You don't understand at all, do you?
The deal is whatever I wish it to be.
You're too far in now to get cold feet.”

I strained to see what was hidden in the shadows of
Spiros
' body.

“He's useless to us now.”
Spiros said.

With a few
,
fluid footsteps, he drew close to the
colonel
, then lifted his arm, allowing a split second glimpse of a long, slender blade before sweeping it across Colonel Worthington's throat in one smooth arc.

Bile burned at the back of my throat and I bit my
knuckles
until I tasted blood.
They let the
colonel's
body slump to the floor.
Spiros
leaned down, wiping his knife on the curator's still shoulder.
As if he w
as
less than nothing.

“Spread out and
search
.
She can't have gotten
f
ar.
When you find her, bring her back here.
This should make her talk.”

Walter stood as
the
others headed out into the museum.
I
waited
,
tears
streaming down my face. T
he
colonel
would not have
died
in
vain
.
I would get the
bag and run
, just as I promised.
But I needed Walter to walk away.

At last, with a single shudder that ran the
length
of his
body
, he
turned
and headed into the darkness of the museum.

Still, I
crouched
, counting.
The silence grew heavy and oppressive.
Even the artifacts were quiet with shock.
They had also lost their protector.
When I counted to three
hundred
, I slid from behind the case and around the corner.
For a moment, I
hesitated
in the doorway,
staring
at the body.
Taking one step toward his prone form, I stopped short at a
soft
noise somewhere nearby.
The vase in the glass case I'd hid behind whispered
run
.

I turned and f
l
ew down the
hallway
as light on my feet as I could be.
No one appeared.
When I got to the
colonel's
rooms,
everything
was a mess.
Dishes were shattered and shards scattered the floor.
The chairs were upended and the table leaned without one leg.
I waded through the mess to his room and popped the false panel of the trunk.
It had been flipped over, so it took longer than I would have liked.
The entire time I kept
glancing
over my shoulder, waiting for someone to appear.

When it finally gave under my fingertips, I yanked the battered rucksack out, dumped the replica
b
ox in and threw the straps over my shoulder.

I returned the way I had come, pausing in the doorway.
There was no exit outside through this hall
and
no other way out except around the body.
As I stood there, talking
myself
into
g
oing
past
without
a
sound, a sho
u
t echoed down the room.

I'd been spotted.

****

T
he room rippled in the dim gaslight.
I wound through the glass cases, keeping my footsteps light.
My chest burned with the effort of keeping my panting and sobs to myself.
I could hear the others behind me, but I refused to turn around.
Colonel Worthington
had given me something important, and it wasn't the b
undle
clutched to my chest.
He'd shown me that my worth did
n'
t depend on anyone else.
He'd given me a family based on love rather than necessity.

I slid through the service entrance at the back of the Greek and Roman gallery and into a narrow hallway with a tiny
,
barred door at the end.
The handle gave with an annoyed creak and I burst into the street.

The cold bit into my exposed flesh
,
and I shivered then shifted on my feet and headed into the darkness of the nearby alley.
I knew these streets like they were my veins rather than the dark
spider web
of London's unsavory.
I ran until my knees felt like jelly and wobbled beneath me.
Then I turned one more corner and tucked myself into a small space between two large piles of debris.
The cold kept their stench from overpowering me, and their size kept me hidden from anyone who would look down the alleyway.

I crouched there for minutes, hours
;
I couldn't be certain how long.
I just sat, my body folded in on itself, the precious bundle clutched to my chest while my ears strained for sound.
When I finally allowed my body to relax a little, I realized there were cold tracks on my cheeks.
My hands came away wet with tears I hadn't even realized I shed.

I settled the
rucksack
on my thighs and gently
upended it
.
A heavy shape wrapped in oilcloth rolled onto my knees, as well as a small muslin bag stuffed with something, a corked jar of liquid, and the small, squat pot of balm the Colonel had been using on my hand.
Long strips of cotton were stuffed into the bottom.
Tears tickled my nose.

He'd known.

I checked in the bag and felt the dry edge of paper.
I pulled it out and slowly unfolded it.

 

Dear Genevieve,

I knew when you disappeared from the museum that things had gone wrong.
My contacts were not subtle in their search, and I fear they did more harm than good.
If you are reading this, then what I dreaded has happened.
You became more than a friend to me, even in the short time you were with us.
You were the daughter that my wife and I could never have.

You promised me you would take care of the box.
I am trusting you to keep that
promise
.
What you do now is up to you.
I know you will choose the right path.

I've put enough things in here to tide you over until you can find some help.
If Phillip has made it, he will try to find you.

With love,

Colonel David Worthington

 

The muslin bag held two loaves of bread and a few apples.
Some tea had been packed in a small tin in the bottom.
I didn't uncork the bottle, but I assumed it held water.
I put the balm and food back into the rucksack and turned my attention to the last package.

Slowly, I unwrapped the heavy rags to reveal the box.
In the dim light, the silver and brass seemed to glow.
Phillip had been right.
His copy had been amazing, but the actual object was breathtaking.
Looking at t
he figures
carved on top,
even
without touching the box, I felt…something.
I couldn't be sure what exactly.
It seemed to throb and pulse.
I wanted to trace my fingers over the surface, but at the same time, a knot of anxiety tightened in my belly.

I gritted my teeth.
Colonel Worthington
had died for this.
I
would
know what had been so important that my world had been turned around for it.

I slapped my hand over the top.
Information flooded my tired brain, and the world as I knew it ceased to exist.