2. In Which the Meeting of Our Heroine Leads to More Questions
Chapter 2
In Which the Meeting of Our Heroine Leads to More Questions
Modern-day San Antonio, Texas
T he light from the crystal chandelier overhead cast a perfect ring on the toe of her patent leather peep toes. Ellie entered the historic Artist’s Loft gallery and sighed, thankful to be out of the sweltering Texas heat. Her heels clicked on the polished marble of the lobby as she scurried up the staircase. She was late. Truth be told, she was always late. She had wanted to get here half an hour ago, but an unforeseen plot twist in the novel she was reading had kept her riveted. Cursing her luck and glancing at her phone, she checked the time before tossing it in her clutch, and snapping it closed.
The crowded room was filled with the soft buzz of voices. Ellie hated this type of crowd: tight, confining, and pretentious. As a caterer passed by, she grabbed a white wine from the tray. She was unsure why Mr. Moreno would call her to the gallery on an artists’ opening night. If he had something for her to look at, he usually waited until the gallery was quiet to call her.
Threading between a threesome of women, all dressed for the evening, she took a sip of her wine and surveyed the room. From here, all she could see was a sea of people. Despite standing on her tiptoes, the crowd blocked her view. The back staircase was her target, and she made a beeline for it. To avoid a man wildly waving his arm while telling a story to another couple, she ducked and then maneuvered around a couple on a date. Once she got to the staircase, she went up several steps until she could see over the crowd. Ellie hated being short. Just once, she wanted to be tall enough to see over people. She sighed in annoyance and sipped wine.
It was then she noticed Mr. Moreno. She headed for him, determined to see whatever he had for her and leave. Her flounced hem swayed in time with her movements as she navigated her way back through the crowd. Ellie had spent years trying to hide behind boxy shirts and baggy clothes. Her dick of an ex-husband always hated how she dressed, teasing her about channeling Doris Day in her 1950s-inspired clothes. But Ellie didn’t care what the prick had to say any longer. He was someone else’s problem now. She had large breasts, a nipped-in waist, and round hips; tonight, every inch was showcased in a stunning dress hugging her voluptuous curves. Her hair, always her most striking feature, a mess of wild curls, flamed red atop her head.
Moreno was situated across from the gallery. Her long-time friend drummed his fingers on a glass case, something he did often when he became stuck in conversation with someone he didn’t particularly like. Ellie smiled to herself as she approached. He was facing her, and between them, blocking her path, was a wall of dark-gray suit that seemed to reach the ceiling. She maneuvered around the two men and the glass case they were resting drinks on. Lightly, she tapped Moreno on the shoulder.
His face held a hint of annoyance at being interrupted, but it quickly faded to joy when he saw who it was.
“Ahh, Ellie, my dear girl.” He reached for her and kissed her cheek in greeting.
“Moreno.” She nodded her head and gave him a quick kiss back. “You called me this afternoon.” Waving her hand, she prompted him. She didn’t want him to fall back into the conversation and leave her standing there for who knows how long. Whatever he had for her, she’d quickly peek, and then she needed to get the hell out of there. She had the rest of her book to read.
“Hello.” His voice was dark and rich, with an accent she couldn’t place, that came from somewhere above her.
Ellie jerked her head up. Then up. And up. She peered at him as she craned her neck towards the second floor, closing one eye when the light from the chandelier hit her.
“Hello.” Her nose wrinkled, and she quickly lowered her head back down. Turning further towards Moreno, she tried to cut off any other awkward greetings from Mr. Twenty-Stories-Tall. “What did you want to show me? I really can’t stay too long.” She was ready with her excuse should Moreno decide he wanted to prolong their evening and launch into one of his famous speeches.
“Ellie,” he said and winked at her. “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Lucci. Maximus Lucci.” He gestured behind her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she gave the man a peculiar look and sniffed. “Pleased to meet you,” she said in a soft Texas drawl to the glass display case.
Maximus looked down and wrinkled his forehead in response.
“Maximus”—Mr. Moreno shifted his eyes to him—“may I call you Maximus?”
The man nodded.
“He is here all the way from Rome, Ellie.” Moreno raised both eyebrows at her, expecting her to be impressed. Or maybe he was chiding her for her manners. When she didn’t say a word, he continued. “Maximus is here to look at some of the artwork we acquired from a recent acquisition of a museum that closed in Crete. Such a shame when museums close, isn’t it? Such a shame. No one wants to go to look at art any longer. Just computers and phones and such.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ellie interrupted. “It’s sad, Mr. Moreno, but you called me today to tell me you had something for me?”
“Something for you, dear?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, something for me. To look at. A book, perhaps?”
His hands clapped together so loudly several patrons turned to see who dared to interrupt their expensive art buying.
“Ahh, yes. A book. A book came over with a few of the art pieces. It wasn’t included in the list of artifacts, so I assume it’s a fake.”
“A fake? A fake what?”
“Yes, dear, a fake. You know how fakes can be. All gold and writings and whatnot.” He continued talking to himself as he stepped away.
Ellie wasn’t optimistic he would head to the back to retrieve whatever he had found. After he mumbled to himself for several minutes, got lost near the food table, and finally remembered what he was doing. She snorted, uneasy at being left alone to make small talk with this tall stranger. Just what she needed. Absentmindedly, she played with her necklace, the one she’d had since birth. She threaded the chain through the pendant, back and forth, over and over.
Great.
She smiled thinly.
The man nodded. “Hello, again.”
“Hello,” she said curtly, still playing with the pendant.
“Should we talk about the weather or whatever sports team happens to be popular?”
She snapped her head up. His stern tone of voice contrasted with the mirth in his eyes. A hint of a smile turned the corners of his mouth.
She shrugged. “I suppose the polite thing to do is small talk. But I’m not sure that would be interesting. It’s summer. It’s Texas. And it’s hotter than the devil’s ass crack outside and as sweaty as a two-buck hooker.”
Maximus looked momentarily shocked, but he gathered himself quickly. “Might we talk about the crowd in this room?”
She twisted her lips and gave the crowd a once over.
“Have you ever seen so many people pretending to know what they’re talking about in one place before?” he asked.
“Of course.” She rested an elbow on the glass case. “The stable hands talk all kinds of bull shoveling manure on my daddy’s ranch.”
A loud laugh burst forth out of Maximus. Several patrons turned around to give annoyed glances at the couple who dared to interrupt them.
“Ellie, right?”
She nodded and sipped the wine she had forgotten she was holding.
“What brings you here tonight, aside from the obvious, of course?”
She raised her eyebrows. “The obvious?”
“The bacon-wrapped shrimp.” He gleefully took three as the server passed and then, on second thought, grabbed two more.
“Ahh, yes, the shrimp. Yeah, I don’t eat shrimp, bacon, or meat at all.”
“You mean to tell me you live here in Texas and don’t eat meat?” His words were garbled by the mouth full of shrimp.
She grinned. “Yep. Lived here all my life and stopped eating meat when I was nine. Imagine growing up on a ranch with a cowboy for a daddy and not eating meat.”
“So, what’s it like being the black sheep of the family?”
Ellie laughed and was about to answer when Moreno came back. He was waving one arm wildly and balancing the box he carried with the other. Placing the wooden box down with a soft thud onto the glass, he grinned in their direction.
“You both will be interested in what’s in here. It’s the ink that makes this an excellent fake.”
“Ink?” A wrinkle creased her forehead.
Moreno’s face had disappeared into the box, his voice muffled. “The original has copper, but this is gold, I think. I told you, it’s a good fake.”
He lifted a leather-bound book from the wooden box and carefully set it on the glass. Ellie watched in wonder as he put on the white cotton gloves he had pulled from his pocket and rubbed his hand in an upward motion across the cover of the book. Its cover was worn, and old. It had embossed filigree along the spine. In the book’s center lay a stitched square, and inside the square was adorned with several gemstones resembling sapphires. He held it momentarily like the precious jewel it was and then flipped it open. The pages had yellowed, but it wasn’t the pages that caught her eye and caused her to gasp softly.
Inside, scrawled across each one, was shimmery copper ink. The ink caught the light, winking and glistening as if alive. It mesmerized her as Moreno turned the pages—one by one, each page full of writings and drawings, all in beautiful, copper-colored ink.
“It’s beautiful, Moreno,” she said in awe.
Maximus had taken a step closer to get a better look. He was towering over her as he looked down at the book.
“How much?” His deep timbre mixed with the accent sent a shiver down her spine.
She wanted to jab her elbow backward into his ribs and force him to give her room.
“Oh no. No. This isn’t for sale. It’s a fake, a good fake. It had our staff stumped at first.” Moreno was waving his white-gloved hands in the air as he spoke.
“What is it?” Ellie brought her gaze up from the enchanting pages.
Moreno let out a half-laugh. “A book, Ellie. An antique book.”
Closing her eyes in frustration, she was sure she heard Maximus chuckle from behind her. “Yes, it’s a book, Moreno. I meant, what makes it so special, aside from the ink? And what is it a fake of ?”
Moreno waved his hand in the air again. “Oh, oh, that. Yes, well, we—I should say, Thomas, really, he is forever jumping to conclusions—thought it might be the Book of Pandora. ”
Her eyes widened, and she shot a look at Maximus, who shared her surprise. “ The Book of Pandora ? Really?”
“But it’s a—”
“Fake, yes, we are aware,” Maximus said. “But why would someone fake it?”
Ellie nodded in agreement. She was wondering the same thing.
“Oh!” He clasped his gloved hand into an annoyed fist. “I need to go say something to the caterer. He’s putting out the wrong thing.” Moreno tsked and rushed off towards a server with a tray of something. Turning, he called back to the pair. “Look as much as you want. Oh, and Ellie, don’t leave. I have to ask you something.” Then he disappeared into the crowd.
“Is he always so full of answers?” Maximus asked.
Ellie shrugged. “You should see him when he’s frazzled.”
His chuckle was deep, and it rumbled through her, causing one side of her lips to turn up.
“So, it’s a fake, huh?” Tapping the glass with her index finger. “Just as well; the actual book is probably more of a legend, anyway.”
Maximus stepped backward as if suddenly realizing he was standing too close to her. “You’re familiar with the legend?”
“Bits and pieces.” Ellie shrugged again. “Some book was supposed to belong to Pandora. Someone stole it on the night the Library of Alexandria burned. That’s all I know.”
Maximus smiled, but his dark eyes snapped. “Pandora was a powerful sorceress. She wasn’t entirely human and wasn’t a god. For centuries, all lived in harmony. Until the war. It wasn’t the Trojan War you read about in history books; it was much longer and much bloodier. The gods took sides between the Greeks and the Trojans. It’s said that when war finally came to Alexandria, the mob killed Pandora. Her book is rumored to hold the spell that would bring Olympus back to the center of the universe. Permitting the gods of Olympus to return to Earth once again.
“And this is that book?” she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
It was Maximus’ turn to shrug. “It might be if it weren’t fake.”
“Humm, interesting.” She tapped her bottom lip with her finger. Contorting her lips, she screwed one eye shut. “That, um, yeah, was a lot of words.”
“Pardon?”
“That was a lot. I never asked for a long, drawn-out history lesson. If this were a book I was reading, I’d skip this part because the author was clearly dumping information. So . . .” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
“Excuse me?”
Her hand rested on her chest, she continued. “Don’t get me wrong, the story is—wow—but it’s a story. A myth. You don’t actually believe there was really a Pandora who opened a box of all evils, right?”
“Well, not a box, exactly . . .” he began, but quickly snapped his mouth shut when her lips broke into a wide grin.
She giggled at him. “It’s a fairytale. I’m sure whoever wrote this was just using it as a journal.” Gently, she flipped several pages; the ink glistened under the light. “It’s probably a diary of some long-ago person’s every mundane thought. I bet it says something like, ‘Today I beat my clothes on a rock, the same as yesterday. Also, Marco is super annoying. I hope he falls into a volcano.’”
Squinting at something on the page, she didn’t notice Maximus looked dumbfounded temporarily. She was still busy staring at the book when Moreno circled back to them.
“Ahh, Ellie.”
“This mentions the Library of Alexandria.” She caught sight of Maximus’ face. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought he paled slightly. She stared for a few more seconds before she got the feeling someone had asked her a question.
“What? I’m sorry, Moreno, I wasn’t listening.”
“Will you take the book?” He was nodding his head at her.
Pinching her eyebrows together, she shook her head. “The book? This book?”
“Yes, my dear, this book. It might be a fabrication, but it holds some value. A museum in Ithaca wants it, and I’d rather not spend the money to ship something like this when it only holds a small amount of value.”
“But didn’t it come from Greece?” It was Maximus’ turn to ask a question. Moreno scowled in annoyance at him.
“Yes, technically, but no one knew it was inside the trunk we purchased. As it wasn’t listed on the packing form, Greece wants it back. It’s a lot of paperwork and negotiations if we keep it. So, Ellie, will you take it?”
“Do you expect me to take this with me? How would I even do that?” She eyed the relatively thick leather-bound tome.
“Your cruise, silly. I’ll put it in a crate for safe-keeping, and you don’t have to do anything but deliver it. You are stopping in Ithaca, yes?” Moreno tapped his foot softly, indicating he was getting impatient with her.
“I guess.” She said cautiously “I’ll have to make room.”
He made an odd sound and half-hugged, half-jumped towards her. Maximus took a step back lest he decide to embrace him as well.
“I have that bust you wanted,” he said to Maximus over Ellie’s shoulder. “I’ll go get it.”
He dragged her off, presumably to hug her some more. Maximus took a sip of champagne as someone stepped beside him.
“What would you have me do, Evander?”
“We are supposed to bring the grimoire to the goddess. That was our order,” Evander said, a tick in his jaw. His blond hair was perfectly combed to the side. His well-crafted suit looked as posh as he sounded.
“I’m well aware of our orders.” Max sniffed, glancing over his shoulder. “What would you have had me do? Grab the book and run? Cause a scene?”
Evander pursed his lips tightly. “No, I supposed not.”
“Don’t worry; we’ll get it.”
“She can read ancient Greek, Maximus.” He looked at him then, his eyes narrowing.
“I know.”
Max took another swig of his champagne. The goddess would not like this one bit.