Chapter 2
Sable donned a pair of generic sunglasses as she strode across the street toward the Merveille De L’art Museum.
She wore jeans and a nice sweater with her brunette wig loose and wavy down her back.
She’d grown her hair out years ago and then chopped it off to make a wig because she liked the idea that the hair on her head was actually hers.
Her real locks were currently the same length as the fake, and because it had been specifically designed for her ears, the wig layered naturally with her hair to give her that highly coveted beachy look.
She’d styled her outfit to be respectable, but not memorable.
Blue jeans, but not too light or too dark.
A pastel sweater that complimented her skin but wasn’t vivid enough to catch anyone’s eye.
Matching ballet flats kept her height average, and she’d left her hair long down her back to keep anyone from remembering a unique style.
She had no intentions of being noticed today.
She had no intentions of getting anywhere close to the egg either.
Sable was merely a visitor, and an invisible one at that.
“One general admission, please,” she said to the woman manning the ticket booth.
“Sure thing, hun,” the lady said, and when she turned toward the register, Sable scanned the museum entrance.
The Merveille De L’art was a colossal building, ornate and magnificent.
The structure was as much a work of art as the masterpieces it housed, and while she longed to marvel at the architecture, the security demanded her attention.
Cameras observed every inch of the entrance, and Sable was willing to bet that they weren’t normal lenses.
The Fae had power humans didn’t, and she fought the urge to pat her ears below her wig. Could the cameras sense what she was?
“Here you go, hun,” the agent said as she handed her the ticket.
“That’ll be Twenty-five dollars, but if you want to see the Precieux Egg, you’ll need to buy additional admission inside.
It’s housed in its own exhibit, but it is worth the extra money, if you ask me.
The egg is so much bigger than it looks on the TV, plus the displays include many of Baptiste Precieux’s personal belongings and lesser works. ”
“Thanks, I’ll look into it if I have the time,” Sable lied as she handed over the cash.
“Have a nice afternoon.” The woman waved at her, and Sable smiled as she entered the ornate doors that stood at least fifteen feet tall.
She lowered her eyes as she passed the security guards, but the men stationed at the entrance didn’t so much as bat an eye at her.
They were both Fae males, their pointed ears sticking out below their hats, and they had no interest in a petite college student enjoying herself.
Sable looked young for her age, and while she was long past her college years, she dressed the part, keeping her makeup clean and soft so that people assumed she was still in school.
It was amazing what she got away with when people presumed she was a na?ve student.
Sable walked inside without incident, and unlike most visitors who made a beeline for the egg, she purposely never looked in its direction.
She paused before the life-sized sculptures of the goddesses of love.
One for each religion, the artist had spent his career sculpting the set.
He famously based the faces on his lovers, the women long lost to time yet immortalized in stone.
He’d sculpted many statues over his lifetime, but the goddesses of love were the only ones to survive the earthquake that killed him over a century ago.
Many believed the deities had protected their visages, and they’d been housed here ever since.
Superstition claimed if you touched the chiseled stones, they would bless your love life, and for a fraction of a second, Sable was tempted to reach out and take Aphrodite’s hand.
The statue’s fingers were extended as if begging her to obey the siren’s call, and Sable started to accept when a vaguely familiar figure caught her attention.
She froze, lowering her head until her hair shielded her face, and then she peaked sideways through her locks.
She didn’t know the group standing across the room, and thankfully, they hadn’t noticed her.
To them, she was nothing but an awe-struck college student, but even if she didn’t know their names, she recognized their movements.
She knew immediately what they were doing.
They were casing the museum. Seemed she wasn’t the only thief taking a tour today.
Self-preservation urged Sable to leave and return when it was less ‘crowded’, but curiosity got the better of her.
If this group had been invited to participate in this year’s heist, they were obviously skilled, so maybe she could learn something from their research.
And if not, perhaps she could sabotage their success.
Sable left the goddess sculptures and slipped into the group of humans taking a guided tour.
She was of average height and build for a woman, which made it easy to blend into the crowd, and she fell into step behind a larger gentleman.
Thankfully, no one noticed the girl everyone assumed was a curious college student joining the tour halfway through.
Sable then focused her false attention on the guide, walking exhibit through exhibit behind her human shield, but she angled her cell phone at the thieves, letting her recording camera app be her eyes.
She would study the footage later in case it captured something she didn’t, because while she was observing them out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t make her observation obvious.
She was just one woman. If this group found her trailing them as they cased the museum, she’d be in more danger than the gold egg.
“If I may have your attention, please,” the guide said as they stopped before a stone archway.
The air below it was pitch black, and even though it stood in the middle of the corridor, it was impossible to see through to the other side.
“This archway was built with stones stolen from the Underworld. It’s why this hallway is locked to unsupervised visitors, because it’s rumored that if you speak while walking below the arch, the Underworld will know your voice and mark you as its own.
Some believe this is mere superstition. The stones are indeed from the Underworld, but it’s unconfirmed if they deliver your voice to the dead.
There are documented cases of individuals who spoke while passing through only to meet their fate shortly after, therefore it’s museum policy that all who pass through must remain silent.
So, for those who wish to comply, please step forward and sign the electronic waiver.
If you don’t feel comfortable, my associate will return you to the lobby since this concludes our tour. ”
A second guide stepped through the door they’d just passed through and held it open for the guests who wished to forgo the final exhibit. Most stayed, though, Sable included. She wouldn’t speak, but there was no way she was missing this opportunity.
Everyone waited in a single file line, and when it was Sable’s turn, she clenched her mouth shut and stepped through the blackness.
She felt nothing as she walked below the stones, but the moment she exited the dark arch, the rest of the hallway appeared before her.
She waited for the remainder of the tour to walk through, and together, they started back for the lobby, when something pricked her attention.
The thieves. They were gone.
Sable circled the lobby to confirm, but they’d vanished.
They must have used the archway’s distraction to slip away from the group.
Making sure no one was watching, Sable backtracked until she found the hallway where she last saw her competition and scanned the surrounding areas.
They were long gone, but it was the restricted sign that told her all she needed to know about their whereabouts.
She silently reprimanded herself for letting the arch distract her.
It had only been a few minutes, but thieves were notorious for vanishing at a moment’s notice.
She probably wouldn’t find them, but that didn’t mean she wouldn't try.
Noting the security cameras, Sable waited until she was alone and then slipped into the restricted area.
She paused just inside the door and surveyed the large storage room, letting her thieving senses take over as she searched.
Where would she go? What would be her first move?
Walking down the main aisle seemed a foolish idea, so she veered toward a row of looming crates.
Far easier to hide behind wooden boxes than behind open shelves.
The room appeared empty, but she only made it about twenty paces before she realized her mistake. She wasn’t alone. Soft footsteps fell into step with hers, and a voice echoed behind her.
“What are you doing in here?”
Sable froze, her mind flipping through her arsenal of convincing lies, when the voice finally registered.
It was… young. She’d been caught by a child, and a smile tugged at her lips.
Children were far easier to lie to. Plus, there was a good chance the boy wasn’t supposed to be in a restricted-access storage room, either.
“My mom called me,” she said, twisting around to show the kid her cell phone. Parents were serious authority figures for kids, so she hoped he would take her plight seriously. One did not simply ignore a call from their mother. “I was looking for a quiet place.”
“I didn’t hear you talking to anyone,” the boy said, and Sable fought the urge to glare at him.