Chapter Thirty-Two
Rachel
"Steal it?" I whisper. "Joey, couldnae ye be arrested for that? My mother has told me many things about the future, and I recall when she explained that criminals are sent to prison---often for years or even decades. Dinnae want that to happen to you."
"Don't worry, baby. Thievery is my forte."
"You were a petty thief, aye? You broke into small pawn shops, not museums. Correct?"
"Well, yeah. But stealing is stealing, right? The principle is the same." Joey's cocky grin falters a wee bit under my scrutiny. "Look, I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we need that artifact if we're going to close the portal for good."
I brush my fingers over the silver pendant at my throat, feeling the familiar tingle of magic that's been passed down through generations of MacTaggart witches. Though I've become more adept at using my dà-shealladh , I'm far from the level of my great-aunts. The second sight hasn't blessed me with any visions of how this ridiculous plan might unfold.
"The museum has guards," I remind him. "And those wee cameras ye told me about. The all-seeing eyes that never blink."
"Security cameras," Joey corrects. "And yeah, they have them. But I've cased the place enough to get the job done. Their system is outdated. Nothing I can't hack with a little finesse." He taps his temple with one finger, looking far too pleased with himself. "Besides, we aren't exactly swimming in options, are we?"
He's right, though I'm loath to admit it.
"Fine," I concede, pulling my cloak tighter. "But I'm coming with ye. My magic might be useful if things go awry."
"No way. This is a one-man job."
"Are ye certain of that? I'm the one with witchy powers, not you."
He twists his mouth into an expression that's half grimace, half pout. "Magic won't help if we're caught on camera. The cops don't exactly accept 'witchcraft' as a legal defense these days."
"And yet ye need the book that's written in a language only I can decipher." I cross my arms in a defiant gesture. The pendant at my throat warms against my skin, almost as if it's agreeing with me. "Unless ye've suddenly developed the ability to sense ancient Scottish enchantments?"
Joey thrusts a hand through his dark hair, disheveling it in a manner that makes my heart flutter traitorously. "Rachel, this isn't medieval Scotland where you can just wave your hands and make problems disappear. The twenty-first century has different rules."
"Aye, and I've been learning those rules since ye first stumbled through the portal. I am not a helpless lass who needs constant protection."
His mouth quirks into a half-smile. "Trust me, 'helpless' is the last word I'd ever use to describe you."
The warmth in his eyes nearly distracts me from standing my ground---nearly. "Then stop treating me like I'm made of glass. We're partners in this debacle, are we not?"
"Fine," he concedes, throwing his hands up. "But you follow my lead in there. We'll need a distraction of some sort to confuse the guards, but I don't know enough about security systems to figure out how to disable one."
"Allow me to handle that part of the plan."
He frowns. "It's more of a seat-of-your-pants idea than a full-fledged strategy."
"Whatever ye call it, I will provide the magical distraction while you do whatever is necessary to obtain the book."
"I love it when you get all spunky and determined. It's hot." Joey leads me away from the glass case that holds the book. He still has his arm around me. "Here's what I want you to do..."
His breaths tickle my ear as he outlines his hastily constructed scheme, and I find myself torn between wanting to slap him for his recklessness and kiss him for his fearlessness. But that's what I adore about him.
The pendant pulses against my skin, but I dinnae know if it's a warning or encouragement.
"So, I'm expected to create a wee bit of chaos to distract everyone while you sneak back to the glass case that contains the book?" I summarize, eyebrows raised. "That's your master plan?"
"Pretty much." Joey's grin is infectious. "Think you can manage it? Nothing too flashy. We don't want to hurt anyone."
I roll my eyes. "Dinnae worry about me, Joey Finnegan. I learned from the best---Alyssa Vescovi, my mother. The women in my family know how to cause a distraction."
We slip away to a secluded alcove.
I close my eyes and center myself as I've been taught by my great-aunts. The magic in my veins hums like a plucked harp string, eager to be released. When I open my eyes, Joey is staring at me.
"You're glowing a little around the edges," he whispers. "Is that normal?"
"Probably," I assure him, though in truth, I have no idea. The magics are different here---wilder somehow, less constrained by the natural laws that governed it in my own century. "Now, get ready. When the commotion begins, ye'll have exactly three minutes."
"Three minutes? I was hoping for a bit more time."
"Well then, ye should have found a witch with more experience," I retort, but I buffer it with a halfhearted smile. "Three minutes is all I can guarantee without risking something truly catastrophic."
"Define 'catastrophic', please."
I pat his head. "Best not to dwell on the details. Wait until you hear the screams, then move swiftly. Remember, at that point you will have only three minutes."
"Screams, huh?" He sighs. "Okay, then. Let's do this."
Joey sneaks out of the alcove, sauntering away as if he's doing nothing more hazardous than admiring ancient trinkets. No one seems to notice him, or if they do, they dinnae think anything of it.
I shut my eyes, feeling the energy surge within me, uncertain whether to embrace or resist it. The pendant, warm against my skin, serves as a reminder of the power of my great-aunts, the witches who taught me ancient Gaelic incantations. The magics course through my veins, and I'm torn between the thrill and the fear of what it might unleash.
As the magics crescendo, the words tumble from my lips, " Sgàileadh na sùla, cleas an t-seallaidh, dìon ar slighe ," a phrase that means "obscure the eyes, deceive the gaze, protect our way." With the biggest part of the spell complete, I hesitate, knowing I must step out of the alcove to create just enough chaos to protect Joey but unsure of the consequences.
A shimmer ripples through the air, originating from my fingertips and spreading outward in barely visible waves of magical energy. For a moment, I hold my breath, half-hoping nothing will happen. Then---chaos erupts.
Every light in the east wing of the museum flickers and dims, while the security cameras spin erratically, their red lights blinking like frantic eyes. In the distance, an alarm wails---not the main security system, fortunately, but something smaller, perhaps a fire alarm. People glance 'round in bewilderment, their faces lit by the eerie glow of emergency lights. The guards leap into action, their radios hissing with static and garbled words. I hadn't meant to disrupt their communications, but magic here has a will of its own, clinging to electronics like a moth to flame. Despite the turmoil I've unleashed, a small smile creeps onto my lips, echoing my mother's words about my magic's penchant for the dramatic, leaving me caught between pride and unease.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice announces over the intercom, which crackles intermittently, "we're experiencing a minor technical difficulty. Please remain calm and proceed to the nearest exit."
Perfect . I weave through the crowd, my cloak billowing around my ankles as I hurry away, narrowly avoiding a jostling elbow here and a trampling foot there. The chaos is escalating exactly as I'd hoped---not harmful, but disorienting enough to create the distraction Joey needs. I catch a glimpse of him from across the room, moving with surprising grace for a man his size, slipping behind the security guard who's frantically speaking into his radio, oblivious to Joey vanishing into the twilight within the museum.
I resume chanting my spell, letting the effervescent magics flow within me as I crisscross the throng of confused tourists, who are starting to panic.
A child points at me, tugging his mother's sleeve. "Mommy, that lady's glowing!"
His voice rises above the din, attracting unwanted attention.
The mother glances my way, her eyes narrowing suspiciously before she shakes her head. "Don't be ridiculous, Benji. It's only the emergency lights reflecting off her necklace."
Her dismissive tone does little to quell the growing unease around us.
I must be more careful. The magics are manifesting physically in ways I hadn't anticipated, drawing curious and wary eyes alike. I summon a cloaking spell, becoming instantly invisible, but the effect waivers under the stress of the situation. I'd waited to employ this final spell because it requires an enormous amount of energy. Joey will need all the help I can provide since he must be about to steal the book.
Now, all I can do is wait and pray that Joey succeeds before my magics fade completely. The pendant burns against my skin, a warning that I'm pushing the limits of what I can control in this strange modern world. I sidestep through the crowd toward the exhibit hall where the book sits in its glass prison. My cloaking spell flickers like a candle in a draft---now visible, now unseen---as the magics toil to maintain their hold. The museum visitors brush past me, bumping into my invisible form. Some startle and gasp when they glimpse me, since I seemingly appear from nowhere before vanishing again, causing a ripple of alarm through the crowd.
"Did you see that?" a woman gasps to her companion. "That woman just disappeared!"
"It's the power outage playing tricks on your eyes," her friend replies, though she sounds unconvinced.
Hurry, Joey, please hurry.