Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Luna
I didn’t like the way Vivienne looked at Damien. That look suggested a complex history between the two, the idea of which simmered a strange heat beneath my skin.
“You make a convincing couple,” Marcel said as we strolled between floating displays. “Almost had me fooled.”
I maintained my pleasant expression while my insides sank. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“No?” He smiled, sharp and knowing. “The Cross House has certain traditions. Certain expectations for their bloodline. A permanent alliance with a former shifter would be unprecedented.”
“Maybe unprecedented is exactly what the situation calls for,” I said. “Times change.”
Marcel chuckled. “Indeed they do, but I wonder if Elliot knows exactly what his protégé is hunting here tonight.”
I didn’t care for the implication, but I kept my expression blank. “We’re admiring the artifacts, like everyone else.”
“Of course.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Just as I am. Though certain items might be of particular interest to those with specific medical concerns.”
And there it was. He knew. He definitely knew about the Shadow Fang and that the clue to finding it was here. There was no question if he was after it himself or not. You’d have to be a foolish tomb raider not to want to find such a valuable item, and foolish tomb raiders were dead tomb raiders.
Had he really hired somebody to follow me so I’d lead him right to the Shadow Fang?
“What exactly is your interest here, Marcel?” I asked. “Beyond making cryptic comments and interrupting my evening with my fiancé?”
He laughed, seemingly delighted by my bluntness.
“I like you, Luna Rookwood. So refreshingly direct compared to the double-speak most of us engage in.” His expression sobered.
“My interest is professional. Certain clients are very eager to acquire healing artifacts of significant power. The competition for such items can be intense.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I don’t know of any healing artifacts.”
“Ah, but if you heard of an especially rare artifact,” he countered, “your extraction skills are quite legendary.”
“You trying to hire me?”
“Not at all,” Marcel said with a predatory smile. “I’m simply acknowledging that we might have more in common than you realize. Perhaps we could even be cooperative rather than competitive.”
Yeah, no. Like Damien, I didn’t trust Marcel at all. Never did.
A hushed murmur spread through the gallery. Heads turned toward the main entrance, where Selene had appeared. She glided forward, the stars in her gown twinkling as she moved to the center of the space, where a platform rose from the floor to meet her.
“Distinguished guests,” she began, her voice carrying effortlessly, “I’m pleased to present the centerpiece of tonight’s exhibition. A rare artifact of extraordinary historical and magical significance.”
With a graceful gesture, she summoned a display case that descended from the ceiling. Inside, resting on what appeared to be a cushion of pure light, was a carved wooden box inlaid with silver.
The exact item from the photo Damien had shown me. The container for the skin map. I was sure of it.
How were we going to get close enough to examine it? The security around the central platform was even more intense than at the gallery entrance. Plus, there were too many damn supernaturals around.
“This cartographic marvel,” Selene continued, “dates from the First Convergence period, thousands of years ago, a time when the boundaries between supernatural races were still being defined. Created by an ancient shifter queen, it represents one of the earliest examples of cross-species magical collaboration.”
I sought out Damien across the gallery. He had positioned himself closer to the central platform, Vivienne glued to his side. Our gazes met briefly. A range of emotions stormed in those blue eyes of his, none of them good.
My pulse quickened.
“The skin map within,” Selene explained, gesturing to the closed box, “was crafted from materials considered mythical even by our standards. Its magic remains active after millennia, a testament to its creator’s extraordinary power.”
Marcel leaned closer to me, his voice a whisper. “Worth killing for, wouldn’t you say?”
“If you mean me killing you for talking while I’m listening, then sure,” I muttered.
But really, though, what an odd thing to say.
“As is tradition,” Selene announced, “qualified scholars and collectors may request a private viewing of selected artifacts following the exhibition. Simply register your interest with my assistants.”
Perfect. A legitimate way to get closer to the map without arousing suspicion.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I murmured to Marcel, “I should find my fiancé. He’ll want to register us immediately.”
Marcel’s hand caught mine before I could step away. “A word of caution, Ms. Rookwood. The Shadow Fang has a complicated history. Those who seek it rarely find what they expect.”
My blood chilled. He’d just confirmed he knew exactly what we were after.
“Shadow Fang?” I yanked my hand away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not.” He grinned, one too full of teeth. “Give Damien my regards. And do remind him that some cures are worse than the disease they claim to treat.”
With that cryptic warning, he melted into the crowd, leaving me unsettled and my stomach tied in knots. I made my way toward Damien, who had extricated himself from Vivienne and was now speaking with one of Selene’s assistants near the central platform.
As I approached, his expression shifted, a softening that felt starkly different from the cold politeness he’d been showing Vivienne.
“There you are, honeybuns,” I said with genuine relief, sliding my arm through his. “Did you register us for a viewing?”
“Just completed the arrangements,” he replied, his thumb brushing a small circle against my arm. “Selene has graciously agreed to allow us a private examination of several pieces, including the cartographic artifact.”
The assistant—a slender being whose features changed every few seconds—made a note on a tablet of what appeared to be thin crystal. “Madame Selene will receive you in the Meridian Room in thirty minutes. Please be prompt. Her schedule is quite full this evening.”
“We appreciate her consideration,” Damien said.
As the assistant glided away, I leaned closer, speaking quietly enough that only Damien could hear. “Marcel knows about the Shadow Fang. And he knows that we know about it too.”
Damien’s expression remained pleasant for any watching eyes, but the rigid line of his shoulders conveyed tension. “I see.”
“Does Vivienne know anything? Because she and Marcel seem chummy.”
“We’re doing fine,” he deflected, not at all answering my question. “For now, we should focus on our meeting with Selene. She’s no fool. She’ll be watching for any signs of ulterior motives.”
“So we stick to our cover story? Scholarly interest in ancient cartography?”
He nodded. “The closer we stay to the truth, the better. You do have expertise in authenticating artifacts, and I am genuinely interested in the First Convergence period.”
“And when we examine the map?”
“We’ll need to memorize as much detail as possible,” Damien said, scanning the room. “Selene won’t allow photographs or sketches of her most valuable pieces.”
Great. So our entire mission depended on our ability to memorize an ancient magical map during what would likely be a brief, supervised examination. And if we memorized it wrong, well, at least I looked pretty, so the evening wasn’t a total waste.
“So what’s the plan until our meeting?” I asked. “Should we continue circulating? Maintain our cover?”
“Actually,” Damien said, his hand finding the small of my back with now familiar ease, “I believe another dance would be appropriate. The temporary enhancement from the moonpeach should be fading. Another dose before our meeting with Selene might be advantageous.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You really are drugging me for better performance.”
“I’m merely suggesting we utilize available resources to optimize our chances of success,” he corrected, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But I must admit that watching you experience moonpeaches for the first time is…unexpectedly entertaining.”
I tried not to roll my eyes, but it was really, really hard. “Lead the way to the magical performance-enhancing peaches, but if I start turning blue or sprouting extra limbs because I ate too much, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
A genuine laugh escaped him, low and rich. “The things that come out of that mouth always surprise me.”
I grinned up at him. Did that mean he’d been laser-focused on my mouth all evening?
We crossed toward the nearest table. My senses, already heightened from the first moonpeach and all the enhanced champagne, sharpened further.
Colors intensified. The midnight-blue floor now rippled with starlight, and the multi-colored masks throughout the ballroom gleamed like captured rainbows and moonbeams.
The music transformed from sound into something I could almost see, like ribbons of melody weaving through the air, twining around dancers in iridescent patterns.
“Is it supposed to feel this intense?” I murmured.
Damien’s hand settled at my waist, the coolness of his touch somehow more pronounced than before. I could feel each individual finger through the fabric of my dress, five distinct points of contact that sent little sparks of awareness across my skin.
“The effects compound,” he replied, his voice creating a pleasant resonance that traversed through my blood.
“Great. So I’m basically a supernatural drug addict now. Just what I needed to add to my resume: disgraced wolf shifter, professional tomb raider, magical fruit junkie.”