Into the Ether (2 page)

I hesitated, but Terry returned
to sit next to Elliot.
Whatever he said
seemed to help.
I forced my feet to march toward the cavern we used as a common room.
The muffled echoes of voices bounced off the damp walls around me.
Disbelief
and
a surge of panic coated my tongue with the metallic taste of fear.
Never before had the others been so loud.
Even
underground, we needed to be cautious.
Anyone could ent
er these caverns.
We'd spent many
nights listening to
footsteps come close
to our hideout and then veer away.
Dread made my steps slow
.

I
stepped into the wavering light created by several hurricane lamps scattered throughout the room.
Two large men stood outside the rocky alcove that served as Justin's quarters.
Shabby red curtains hung over the opening, looking even more worn next to the crisp white linen shirts and brocade waist
coats they wore.
They were
dark-haired and the
ir eyes never rested on any
thing for long.
Except for me, and I broke into a cold sweat when I saw a flicker of recognition
on one face
.

The taller of the two leaned down and pushed his head inside the curta
in.
The noise in the room faded and
died.
Around us, the
lamps sputtered
in a strange breeze.
The curtains moved and a large man passed by, hurrying through the room
with
another man, and one of the guards.
Justi
n
appeared after them.

The men moved
so close that
I should have
gotten a good look at their faces
.
Instead, I focused on the stranger's hand as he
passed by
me.
In the dim light, a large silver r
ing flashed on his pinky
.
A serpent wound around the finger
eating its tail
,
studded
with two sapphire eyes.
The silver and stones winked as if the room were filled with a roaring fire.

Most of the time when handed an object, I didn't want to
touch
it and see the object's memories
.
This time, my fingers itched to trace the graceful curves.
The stranger passed, and I blinked.
My hand
stretched
toward it, but I stopped
myself as
the
light brightened.
I felt foggy, like I moved through a sea of
molasses.
Something
seemed off
,
s
omething important, but
just out of my reach
.

“Genevieve!”
Justin's voice cut through the haze.

I turned and moved toward him.
He looked
lost.
As if he'd just been told that his life was a lie.
That he'd never been orphaned and the family he despised for abandoning him had been searching for him all along.

“You wanted to see me?”
My voice came out strained.
I still felt
l
ike any moment someone would shake me awake.

“Come with me,” Justin said.

His behavior confused me, but
I followed him into the small alcove, giving the
guard
at the door a wide berth.
Once I was in
side
, the stranger
came in,
watching me intently.
I didn't like the speculative gleam
in his eyes
.

“What's going on, Justin?”

He ignored me.
“What did you bring back?”

I
glared, but he merely cocked a
brow.
I sighed and opened my palm to spill a few pounds onto the small wooden slab he called a table.

“She doesn't look like much of a thief.”
The stranger's wo
rds were laced with an unfamiliar accent
.

Justin's
gaze
flicked to him.
“Looks can be deceiving, Spiros.”

So could words
,
apparently.
I kept my face blank even while I wondered what Justin had been telling Spiros.
Everyone knew I wasn't good at thieving.

Spiros grunted and muttered something in a foreign language.
Fear brushed the depths of Justin's green eyes.

“Now then, Genevieve, I have a job for you.”
He leaned forward and scooped the coins off his desk, depositing them in his pocket.
“Spiros' employer has contracted us to liberate something of tremendous value.
He has heard of your…gift and believes you are the only one who can get the item.”

I nodded.
“All right.”

Spiros stirred and I looked up at him.
“You don't even know what you're getting yet.”

I crossed my arms.
He frightened me, but I pretended otherwise.
Old habits.
“Justin asked me, so I'll do it.
We're family.”

That
brought a smile to Spiros' lips.
It didn't meet his eyes.
Justin's cheeks colored and I wondered if I had said something wrong.

“Very well
,
then.
You
'
re looking for a box.”

I waited.
Surely there was more to it than that.

“It
'
s being kept at the British Museum.
The curator is the man to avoid.
He knows and guards this box.”

“Is it a treasure of some kind?
An artifact?”
I could, at the least, ask intelligent questions.
Terry had been right about my reluctance to steal anything.
But somehow Spiros' words conjured images that captivated me.
I wanted this box.
I could almost see it in my mind.

“It
'
s silver and brass, heavily carved, and requires a key.
The key should be with it.
The curator
won't
give the treasure up easily.
He may have the two items in separate locations.”

“What kind of a box is it?”

“The size of a jewelry box.
Not much bigger.”

“No problem.”
I turned back to Justin.
“When am I going?”

Spiros answered.
“As soon as you
'
re ready
I
'
ll take you there.
Scotland Yard has become interested in your neighborhood
. We
would
n'
t want anything to happen to you on your way there.”

A look passed between Spiros and Justin that I could
n'
t decipher.
The words
were
politely phrased, but I caught the underlying threat.
A shiver traced cold fingers down my spine.

Justin looked away first.
He handed me a small felt bag with coins.
“I'll send Terry to you tomorrow for news.
You have a limited amount of time for this.
Don't…”

He turned to Spiros.
“Could I have a moment?”

The tall man nodded and ducked out of the room.

“Don't come back empty handed, Gennie.”
Justin's
expression was
cold and hard in the flickering candlelight.
“If you don't get the item, I would suggest you get as far away from here as possible.
No one will be able to help you then.
Not even God.”

 

I stumbled out of Justin's room in a daze.
Tears made the room ripple before me, but I blinked them back.
The boy I'd looked up to for the last
six
years, first as an older brother and then as a secret crush, had abandoned me.
It hurt far more than the night I'd been left alone in the dark.
At least that I couldn't remember clearly.
This would be etched into my heart forever.

But I would
n'
t give anyone the
satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Spiros waited in the common room.
He stood alone.
The others gave him
a
wide berth.
He put on a long black overcoat that seemed to emphasize the sense of menace that surrounded him.
A lacquered
,
black cane was swallowed up in his hands as he tugged on a pair of expensive Italian leather gloves.
I'd have bet money the walking stick held a hidden sword or pistol.
If he hadn't been so scary, he wouldn't have left with the gloves or the cane.
The others would have taken them and made quick money
at
the pawn broker a few streets away.

“Are you ready?”

Some of the shock wore off and I nodded.
A thought popped into my head.
I blinked at him, ignoring his motion for us to leave.

“How will I know it
'
s the right item?
You haven't really given me much to go on.”

Spiros gave me a small, strange smile.
His eyes remained hard and dangerous.
“Once you touch it, you
'
ll know.
According to my employer, you need only see it and you
'
ll understand.
He puts far more value on your abilities than I.”

I didn't take the bait.
“I hope you're right.”

“Yes.
You should.
The alternative is…unpleasant.”
He didn't wait to see my response. “Shall we?”

The only thing of value I owned was the silver charm bracelet I kept tied in a pocket on my shift.
Terry would watch the other odds and ends I kept here.
Not that anyone would take
them
.
The common room was neutral ground.
Honor among thieves and all that.

Spiros ducked through the passage opening at the far end of the room, disappearing into the shadows beyond.
Despite the unusual urge to look back over my shoulder, I followed without question.
I felt I needed to prove something to this stranger.
His opinion mattered and not just because he made me nervous.
He seemed to know something about me that I didn't.
Like an inside joke and I was the butt of it.

I expected him to let me lead the way out, but he moved through the cut
,
stone tunnels with ease.
His larger frame seemed to have no trouble hunching over to make it through the archways and pipe-riddled ceilings.
We did
n'
t speak until we reached the junction of tunnels and sewers.
He stopped,
grasped
the metal ladder
,
and turned to look at me.

“We
'
ll come out near
Russell
Square.
You
'
ll continue to the Museum.
Your friend Terry will be collecting reports from you and giving them to
me
and Justin.
I cannot stress the importance of this enough.
You must not get caught.
If you
do
, you
'
ll never mention my name, or anything you
'
ve seen about me, my employer, or any of my compatriots.”

The shadows broke his face in a macabre mask.
“I
'
ll know if you betray us, and in that moment you
'
ll wish you had died.”

I
just raised an eyebrow
, trying to look cool and collected despite the fact that I could taste fear in the back of my throat.
Blood roared in my ears.
I didn't know what Justin had gotten us into, but more was at stake here than some box.

He climbed up the ladder, pushing the metal grate to the side.
I crawled out after him, taking stock of our surroundings.
We were in a dark corner of the square.
With ease he slid the metal grate back into place, saluted me with his cane, and sauntered off into the night.

I crouched on the ground, sucking in great mouthfuls of fresh air.
After everything that had happened, I still had the lingering feeling of dreaming.
I twisted the flesh of my arm viciously between two fingers.
Pain shot up to my shoulder.
Well, it had bee
n a good try.
I slunk through the shadows, staying away from the bright pools of light cast by the gas lamps and windows of the wealthy townhomes.
The last thing I needed was to be reported to the police.
A few moments later, I leaned against a brick wall in the darkness and sighed.

The British Museum's imposing façade rose out of the gloom ahead of me like a giant beast, waiting for prey.
Gas lamps sputtered in front, adding two eyes to the effect.
I'd always liked looking through the galleries before.
Now it seemed sinister.

I could hear the dull, throbbing heartbeat of the generator that ran this part of the city's machinery.
Buried under the street, I knew the museum had one to itself – an expensive proposition, but one that would work to my advantage.
Phillip Alexander Belamordrey ran the furnaces that heated the steam engine's boiler.
His brother, Grant, had stayed with us for a while when things had gotten bad for them a few years ago.
Now Grant had moved onto more honorable pursuits, and Phillip remained at the museum earning his keep shoveling coal.

That was my way into the building.
Always had been.
After this, he probably wouldn't speak to me again.
We had a strict no-steal policy between us.
He would let me into the museum to browse after hours, and I promised not to take anything.
This time, I wouldn't be able to keep my end of the bargain.

I brushed off my skirt and pulled my wool coat closer.
There was nothing left to think about.
I didn't have a choice.
I skirted the museum, heading toward another entrance to the world beneath the streets.
The grate Spiros had so easily moved back into place was far too heavy for me.
Besides, I didn't want him to know everything about my movements.
I couldn't see anyone watching me, but I had no doubts that someone crept through the shadows behind me.

I slid down the fence line and headed for a small gap in the brickwork at its base, partially hidden behind a couple of bushes.
The hole was far too small for an adult, but I still fit easily between the walls.

The passage was uncomfortable, tight, and the walls were black with soot and smoke.
My coat had been dirty enough before I headed down here.
Now it would be almost impossible to clean.
The only bonus was the warmth.
The tunnel I inched down was really a vent to relieve some of the heat and smoke of the fires Phillip stoked.
The bricks and the air swirled, pressing against
me, making my body tingle with w
armth.
In the summer it was unbearable.
Right now, I just wanted to curl up where I was and sleep.

The tunnel stopped, opening into a large room lit by the bright orange glow of three furnaces.
Phillip sat at a table beneath me, a roast
ed
drumstick pinched delicately in his massive hands.

“Hello!” he said, springing to his feet and offering me a hand.
I climbed out onto the top of a shelf and he lifted me down.

“It
'
s good to see you, Phillip.”
A smile broke across my face.
He had an infectious grin I couldn't resist.

“It's been awhile since you stopped by, you know.”
He took a plate from a cupboard next to the shelf and slid it to the other side of the cramped table.
A cup followed.
He poured lukewarm tea from a chipped metal teapot.
My mouth watered at the sight of the brown liquid.
I loved tea, but we didn't often get any really good tea in the caverns.
Phillip's was always the best.

“I see you haven't lost the knack of showing up just in time for dinner.”

I smiled.
“Well, everyone should have a talent.”

His laugh echoed around us and he sat again, pushing the plate of roast
ed
chicken and potatoes toward me.
I helped myself.

I bit into the moist poultry and sighed.

For a moment we both chewed in silence.

“What's got you so unsettled?”

Ah yes, the one other thing that makes Phillip a little dangerous.
Somehow, and he could never explain it, he always knew just how to read my face.
Even when no one else could.

“I'm not unsettled.
Just
anxious.”
I bit into my meal with more force than necessary.

He made a noncommittal noise.

“There are some strange things going on is all.
But Justin's given me a mission, and I'm not to come back until I finish.”

Phillip's brows rose to his hairline.
“As important as all that?”

I shook my head.
The food in my mouth suddenly tasted like dirt.
“No, it's not like that.
Just the same as always
,
prove I know how to steal.
I guess I figured I'd get a little culture while I was about it.”

He studied me, and I tried to keep my eyes anywhere but on his face.

“Well, just as long as you promise me again.
No stealing from the museum.”

I nodded.
“No stealing from the museum.
I promise.”

I sighed and choked down a mouthful of tea.
Inside my boots, every
toe I could manage was crossed.