Jude; The Fallen (The Fallen Series, Book 2) (8 page)

“You can come on out, Sephie, I know it’s you.”

Persephone scrambled up the ladder from the third floor balcony and crawled onto the roof. “How did you know it was me?”

Coriander held her hand out and waited for her sister to reach her. “Because Winston knows better than to bother me up here unless there’s an emergency, and I didn’t hear Teir and her noisy bells. Who else could it be?”

Persephone’s smile was soft. “I don’t know. Jude, maybe?”

She snorted. “Right. Like he would be caught dead up here with me. I don’t think either of us could control the urge to throw someone off.”

“He’s hurting, Cori.” Persephone snuggled up next to her, and Coriander threw an arm around her.

“We all have our hurts, Sephie. Some of us are just better at dealing with them.”

Persephone leaned in. “Are we okay? You and me? I mean, when you left before. We’ve never fought like that. Ever.”

Coriander squeezed and thought for a moment. Were they okay? The hard knot of betrayal she felt seemed to have melted away, leaving behind a bitter ache. Was it the betrayal that lingered, or regret for her actions? Persephone’s face was open and earnest, and it warmed her heart in an old, familiar way. “Yeah, girly,” she sighed, resting her head on Persephone’s. “We’re good.” She chuckled. “No more making friends with stray hookers, okay?”

Her sister’s soft laugh echoed in the moonlight. “Well, how was I supposed to know she was a demon interested in bleeding me dry? She wasn’t exactly forthcoming with that bit of information, you know. It was more of a live and learn process.”

Coriander pulled back, staring into Persephone’s face with concern. “What did happen, Seph? I mean, are you okay? Really okay? What did she do to you?”

Persephone shrugged. “It’s still a little fuzzy. She drugged me. With Teir’s good Irish Breakfast, no less.” Her blond head shook as she laughed. “Waste of a perfectly good ‘cuppa’.”

Coriander swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. It was so like Persephone to make light of the situation. “Be serious, you.”

“I am. Like I said, she drugged me, and we were looking into this mirror we had bought for her bedroom.” Persephone’s face lit up. “Oh, Cori! You would have loved this mirror! We picked it up in this great little antiques store in town. There were all sorts of things that you would just love. We should go. Anyway, we were standing in front of the mirror, and I think we were sucked into another dimension or circle of Hell or something…”

Coriander’s brain misfired the second her sister uttered the word ‘mirror’. Mirrors were often powerful artifacts, and if this demon knew where to get a mirror that would do exactly what Persephone had described, then what else waited at this shop?

“Sephie,” she interrupted, “I think that’s a great idea. We’ll go shopping.” She turned her sister in her arms and stared into her face. “Hey, I just want to tell you that I’m sorry.” Coriander paused, taking a moment to smooth the hair back from Persephone’s face. “I mean it. I’m sorry we fought like that. I was angry and stupid. I was hurting and chose to lash out at you instead of talking it out. I said cruel things that I didn’t mean.” She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth in embarrassment. “I love you, I hope you know that. And I’m so sorry.”

Persephone’s eyes welled up with tears, and she stifled back a sob as she pulled Coriander into her arms. “I’m sorry too, sis. And I forgive you. I love you.”

Coriander melted into the comfort of Persephone’s embrace and felt a small part of her heart rejoice at the acceptance. Everything was right again.

The tiny bell over the door tinkled as Coriander and Persephone made their way inside, the musty smell of old things permeating the air in a comforting perfume. Coriander breathed deeply and sighed with a wistful smile.

“Told you,” Persephone said, beaming at her sister.

“So you did.”

The door shut softly behind them, eliciting another small peal of the bell. The shop was littered with pieces from floor to ceiling, a jumble of furnishing and accessories displayed in a careful array of ordered chaos. There was much to see.

“Oh, Cori!” Persephone gasped, grabbing her arm and ushering her over to a collection of ancient trunks. “Look at these! Aren’t these beautiful?”

“Yes.” The word came out in a rush of air as Coriander bent to inspect one of the larger trunks. It was solid, handcrafted from old woods, and held together by a series of ornate steel strappings. The dark stain was rich, the color of Turkish coffee, and the polished wood gleamed. Thick brass rivets were hammered into the filigreed steel bindings, and the large latches on the front were shiny and beautiful. Her fingers twitched at her side, and before she knew it, her hands came up to touch, running over the trunk in a whisper of reverence.

“It’s a beautiful piece, isn’t it?” A voice said smoothly from behind her. “I picked it up in Kusadasi along with a lovely armoire. It is rumored to have come from Topkapi Palace, from the apartments of the Queen Mother. I paid handsomely for it. But for the right price, it could be yours.”

Coriander straightened and turned to the man. He was tall, elegantly so, dressed in a tweed suit that screamed ‘Savile Row’. The smile he gave her was warm and polished, gleaming much like the teak wood of the trunk. He wore a pair of thin, wire-rimmed glasses that perched on the end of an aristocratic nose. Cool eyes behind the frames assessed her with a prodding gaze.

“It’s lovely,” she managed after a moment. “And if you can prove its origin, I would say you have a sale.”

He laughed, more of a warm chuckle than a true laugh, and said, “Alas, it is only rumor, my dear. But the beauty of the piece speaks for itself.” His hand swept the air in a grand gesture. “And I do have many more pieces with confirmed provenance that might hold your interest, Miss—?”

“Coriander Rhodes,” she supplied, holding out her hand. “And you, sir?”

The handshake was strong, yet not too tight. Friendly. “Ah, where are my manners, Miss Rhodes? Do forgive me. Reginald Wickham-Jones, at your service.” He gave a polite, deferential bow. “Now, are you in the market for anything in particular?”

Coriander smiled and let her gaze wander. She could hear Persephone in another corner of the shop fawning over something. “I’m a bit of a collector. Usually Middle Eastern and Egyptian. I’m currently harboring an obsession for anything Eighteenth Dynasty.”

“Really? How interesting. I have recently come into possession of a fragmented quartzite statuary piece of Meketaten. Would you be interested?”

Coriander’s mind reeled as she thought back to the death mask in her office. A statue of one of Akhenaten’s daughters? She buzzed with excitement. “I would definitely be interested,” she replied.

“Come with me.” He turned and gestured for her to follow.

Coriander shot back over her shoulder, “Be right back, Seph! Don’t wander off.” She listened for the distant reply and followed Reginald into another room of the shop. As she passed through the colorful silk fabric of the room divider, a shiver tickled at the back of her mind. She couldn’t forget Persephone’s mirror. While her sister’s ordeal was terrifying and supernatural, she wondered how much of it had been the work of Veronica, and how much had been the mirror itself.

Reginald stood in the far back of the room next to a wooden packing crate. He smiled as she moved closer. “I must say, I have been debating whether or not I wanted to sell this particular piece or keep it for my personal collection.” The lines of his kind face grew deeper as his smile widened. “But I see fate has had a hand in my decision by bringing me a kindred spirit.”

He picked up the crowbar from the floor and wedged it under the lid of the crate. The wood creaked as he pried the lid open. The scent of sand and straw assaulted her and immediately brought her mind back to Egypt. Reginald’s hands were sure and steady as he removed the lid and set it aside. A large, wrapped bundle lay nestled in the straw, and she couldn’t help but hold her breath as Reginald gingerly picked up the object.

It lay in the crook of his arms, as one would hold an infant, and he smiled up at her with the same beatific expression of a new parent. “Would you like to do the honors?”

She nodded, unable to speak, emotion and excitement lodging in her throat. Coriander’s hands were still with years of experience at handling fragile objects, but she was nervous just the same. This was a huge find and she knew it. All she had to do was unwrap it.

Coriander’s fingers curled around the soft cloth, peeling it back on a breath. It was beautiful. Fragmented indeed, as it was missing the head and part of the hand. The hieroglyphics carved at the bottom revealed that it was in fact, Meketaten.

“It’s her,” Coriander whispered, trailing a hand over the carved script. “
Protected by Aten
,” she translated the name. Her eyes shot up to Reginald. “Whatever you want, I’ll pay it. I have to have her.”

Reginald returned her smile and replaced the statue. “I think we’ll be able to reach an agreement. I’m glad she will be going to someone who will appreciate her beauty.” He returned the lid to the crate and gestured to the door. “Shall we negotiate?”

Coriander followed him to the front and found Persephone standing by the counter. “Did you find something?” Persephone asked. “I knew you would.”

Reginald took his place behind the counter and pulled out a notepad and pen. He scribbled for a moment and slid the pad across the counter. “If you find this sum agreeable, Miss Rhodes?”

Coriander looked down at the pad. She paused for a moment and then took the pen from his grasp. She drew a line through the figure and jotted down a new one beneath it. There was a glint in her eye as she passed the pad back to Reginald. This was a dance with which she was familiar, one that started the blood rushing in her veins. The find may not have been hers, but she was fairly sure she would take home the spoils.

Reginald’s eyebrow rose at Coriander’s figure, and for a second she feared he would turn her down. She waited and watched as the corners of his lips turned up into a slight smile. He raised his eyes to hers. “She’s worth so much more, you know. And you drive a hard bargain,” he said, offering her his hand. “But you have a deal.”

Coriander met his grip with a firm shake. “If you’ll give me the account details, I’ll have it wired over to you as soon as possible, then we can arrange delivery.”

“Very good.” Reginald plucked one of his business cards from the counter and turned it over to scrawl a series of numbers on the back. “Your accountant should find everything in order for the transfer. Ring me if you have any other questions or issues.”

Coriander took the card. “I’ll be in touch soon. Thank you.”

Reginald gave a slight bow at the waist. “The pleasure was mine. You ladies are welcome anytime. Who knows what treasures find their way here?”

She grabbed Persephone and nodded as they made their way out. Once outside, Persephone spun her around. “So, what did you buy?”

“A statue.”

Persephone’s face was flush with excitement. “A statue? That’s all you have to say? Most of the time I have to tune you out when you start talking about your relics.”

Coriander wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s not nice. Don’t tell me that.”

Persephone laughed as she linked their arms together and started walking. “I still love you, though.” She squeezed Coriander’s arm. “How much was that thing, anyway?”

“A quarter mil.”

“What?” Persephone squeaked. “You spent two-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars on a statue?”

Coriander threw her head back and laughed with gusto. “Two words, Sephie. Egyptian. Princess.”