16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter 16
R ieka stopped. She wanted to pinch herself. It was like walking into a scene from Indiana Jones . Rows and rows of shelves filled with priceless artifacts. There was no other explanation except that she’d died and gone to heaven. And she was totally fine with it.
Talik chuckled at her dramatic reaction. “Wait until you see what is inside the vault.”
Rieka’s head snapped back so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. “This isn’t the vault?”
They had gone through three levels of security to get to the room. For a moment, she’d seriously thought she was going to be physically searched—if it hadn’t been for Talik death-staring the guard into submission.
“No. This is the open area. Anyone can request access to the archive room.” Talik nodded to the back where a large black metal door stood. “That is the vault.”
“What do you mean, anyone can request access?” Rieka repeated slowly. She stopped and looked around at the Atlanteans studying at the desks. Not a single human or hybrid in sight. At no point in her entire ten-year academic career had this ever been an option.
Talik gestured. “Anyone who has the right connection.”
Connections that a human or a hybrid without an affiliation to a House would never have. The Atlanteans she’d worked with would have known that she was kept in the dark. Chay would have known about it. A small part of her numbed at the realization. She had assumed they were close enough friends that he would have shared the information. She unclenched her jaw. Rieka didn’t have the capacity to be pissed off about it. She would get angry later, after she located the tomb.
She followed Talik in silence. The never-ending rows of shelves distracted her. “Who else has access to the vault?”
“Only you and two other scholars. The rest of us will only see what is showcased at the exhibit.”
Rieka had not been expecting that. A part of her had assumed it would be open to all the scholars, not just a handful. Yet again, the Houses were trying to control history. “How?”
Talik stopped. His black eyes gave away no emotion. “Dante called in a favor.”
Rieka let the words roll over her as they walked. It made her more determined to find the tomb. Even if it was only so her name would be recorded in the Atlantean history books. It may be fucking petty, but she was long past caring.
Except for the two Atlantean scholars, the area was empty. She wasn’t na?ve—most of the Atlanteans attended the festival for other reasons. Talik walked ahead, allowing her to slowly wander through the rows as she mentally noted areas she wanted to come back to. The shelves opened to a large space; six large tables were covered in a pale muslin. “What exactly is in the vault?”
“The relics of House Atlas and a handful of items that have been retrieved from collectors,” Talik replied, no doubt being purposely vague. “And, of course, the crown jewels of House Atlas.”
Rieka nodded. The information wasn’t new. The Atlanteans guarded the artifacts like dragons hoarded their treasures. Only a handful of Atlanteans knew the extent of the treasures held within the vault. She just hoped she hadn’t made a deal with Dante for something she would find on an archaeological excavation. Pretty jewelry was not why she was here.
“Until the vault is officially opened, you have access to anything on the tables or within the archive. Dante has ensured that nothing is off-limits to you.”
Rieka nodded absently as she gravitated toward one table. It took a minute before Talik’s words registered.
She turned around, but Talik was gone.
R ieka stared at the artifact in her gloved hand. A delicate amulet created out of orichalcum, the famed Atlantean metal. The artificial light of the room was tempered to protect the artifacts but also allowed her enough exposure to identify the minuscule details. She absently touched her pendant, letting the familiar shape anchor her. She would need three lifetimes to go through the artifacts, but she only had days to find the tomb and understand why her mom had been so obsessed.
Where did she even start?
Rieka took a breath and began working on the closest artifact. She played with an errant curl as she focused. The amulet was no bigger than a small thimble, but the intricate carving along the body was breathtaking. It depicted a battle scene, reminding Rieka of the ancient Greek vases she’d studied. The stylized battle was highly detailed, although she didn’t recognize any of the characters or the story.
“Rieka.”
Dante’s voice went straight through her. Her heart fluttered; she really should stop getting distracted by Dante. Rieka slowly lowered the artifact back onto the table, careful not to disturb the others she’d laid out.
“You need a bell,” Rieka said. She turned to face him and promptly forgot what else she was about to say. Dante was impeccably dressed in a tailored white shirt, rolled at the sleeves, and black pants. Rieka had never been so distracted by male forearms before, but somehow the rolled-up sleeves, the hint of his dark olive Mediterranean skin with a sprinkling of dark hair, were making her stomach do somersaults. This wasn’t a romance book. “Or a warning sound.”
Good save, Sinha. No one will believe you have a doctorate if you keep this up.
What would his mouth feel like against her skin? Dante drew her in like a moth to a flame, and she was almost willing to see how close she could be to him before she was consumed by it. Just like her need to touch Vandana’s flame.
Dante’s smile grew wider; his eyes brightened until they glowed neon green.
Fuck. Heightened senses.
It didn’t matter. She was at the Jimourt for one reason only, and Dante wasn’t it. The fantasies could wait until after she found the tomb.
“How long have you been here?” she asked. She was going to learn to not have a single-minded focus on what she was doing. The place could have burned down around her, and she wouldn’t have noticed.
“Long enough to know that you play with your hair when you are concentrating,” Dante reached out, tugging an errant curl away from her face as he tucked it behind her ear.
Heat flushed through her at the barest touch. An intimacy she hadn’t been expecting but wanted so much more of.
“What are you looking at?” Dante asked. As if he didn’t realize what his effect on her was. She couldn’t fool the heightened senses, no matter how much she tried.
Rieka looked at the table, grateful for the distraction. If there was one thing she could do without thinking, it was talk for hours about Atlantean artifacts. “The amulet. I have never seen the imagery before. It depicts a battle, but one warrior looks like it has wings.” She reached out and picked up the piece she’d been looking at before and held it up for Dante to see. “Stylistically, it is similar to the artifacts from Gobekli Tepe.”
“Winged beings. I don’t recall any of the Atlantean myths dealing with anyone who fits that description. Angelic beings are a human creation.” Dante pointed to the corner of the amulet, to an area barely bigger than a speck. “You can see there is a chip in this. It must connect to another piece.”
Rieka brought it closer. There, on the edge of the artifact, was the slightest indention. She frowned. Somehow, she had missed it. But now that Dante had mentioned it, it was all she noticed. Without missing a beat, she turned to look at Dante. At no point had he suggested that he was an expert in ancient Atlantean artifacts, but she couldn’t quite dissuade herself from the notion that he knew far more than he let on. “When does the vault open?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Even for you?”
Dante shrugged; the fabric of his shirt stretched across his broad frame. “Even for me.”
“Don’t you have meetings to attend to?”
“No.”
Rieka blinked at him. He was in no rush to leave.
A minuscule part of Rieka was thrilled at spending more time with him. The mere thought sent a tingle through her as she clenched her thighs together. The last thing she’d expected was for him to take an interest in the artifacts. To many of the wealthy, artifacts and art were to be collected and displayed not because of their intrinsic worth but because of the perception of owning the unusual—a tangible part of history.
The other part, the practical part, knew she wouldn’t be able to look for the key to the tomb under Dante’s watchful gaze. Rieka would bet he knew more than she did, which begged the question. Why was she there? “I didn’t take you as someone who would enjoy the practical aspect of archeology.”
Dante chuckled. The sound warmed Rieka.
“Do not believe everything you read.” Dante picked up a small piece and held it to the light. “I spent a formidable part of my childhood cataloging these very artifacts.” He placed it next to the amulet. “It was not a pastime I would wish on a foe.”
Rieka glanced at Dante, studying him purposefully. The wistful edge to his tone was subtle, maybe a memory that still affected him. She never actually questioned how Atlanteans viewed their history. Living for a couple of millennia would skew how they viewed everything. It would also explain their emotional distance from humanity. How would she feel if she knew that no matter what she did, all her human connections would pass into dust long before she had even lived a quarter of her life span—moments she took for granted would be a long-distant memory. She did not want to go down that path.
“I can’t imagine you as a child,” Rieka said earnestly. She raked her memory, trying to recall any tidbit of knowledge of Dante or his family. “Aren’t you a twin?”
“I assure you, I was not spawned fully grown. Despite what some may believe,” Dante said. “I have a sister, but she much prefers to stay within the confines of her lab than venture out to the real world.”
Rieka chuckled. She could well imagine some things Dante had been called. She believed every one of them, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to learn more or stifle the desire to touch him. “What do you get out of understanding if the statue is a forgery or authentic?”
Dante picked up another artifact, a small pale blue bead. He held it delicately between his fingers as he turned it around. “Nothing.”
It was not the response she was expecting. Especially since he was paying her a small fortune to analyze the statue. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to.” Dante put down the artifact and reached for another one. “I want the same thing you do. To find the tomb. The statue may be the clue we are both looking for. It’s why you are here, isn’t it?”
Rieka swallowed. Was she an open book? “I’m here because you are paying me an exorbitant amount of money, and I’m unlikely to live long enough to be around for the next Jimourt.”
Or get another invitation. Absurd that she was putting all her hopes on a statue that may not even exist, but she refused to believe in coincidences. The image of Vandana in the empty tomb had been real. And she had Rieka’s eyes.
Dante smiled. The glint in his eyes was glacial as he slowly looked her over. “Don’t lie to me, Rieka. You can keep your secrets for now.”
Rieka didn’t budge, and refused to break eye contact. Two could play this game. “That goes both ways, Delacroix.”
She wasn’t a hundred percent sure she could trust him. They both had their own reasons for wanting to find the tomb. But she wouldn’t turn down his help—not if it brought her closer to fulfilling Lilian’s dream.
“I would expect nothing less.” Dante answered. “I am curious how you identified the House Mestor statue as a forgery.”
Rieka was silent for a second. It wouldn’t hurt to let Dante know, feed him just enough information that it could build a level of trust between them. Maybe she could be just as manipulative as the Atlanteans. It seemed to be encoded into their DNA. But the thought disturbed her far more than she expected. She ignored the slight nausea it triggered. No, she was doing what she needed to survive. No one else was going to help her. She had learned that the hard way. “There was a watermark at the bottom of the statue. A small floral addition to denote the artist.” She’d instinctively recognized the small mark. If she could go back in time, she would take the secret to her grave. “Age had worn it down. Until it was barely discernible.”
“Have you seen any other creations by this artist?”
“Not within one of the Houses’ collections,” Rieka stated. She was telling the truth. It was an image that had been scattered throughout her mom’s journal. One that Rieka also had inked on her skin, hidden among her colorful sleeve of flowers. Finding the mark on the statue had almost shattered her, and all she had gotten out of it was a lifetime of questions she could never answer.
Dante leaned forward, until she felt the warmth of his breath, and he touched one of her errant curls and flicked it off her shoulder. “You intrigue me.”
Rieka stilled. All words and thoughts left her as heat flooded through her. She opened her mouth; her stomach grumbled loudly.
“When was the last time you ate?” Dante asked.
The heat turned to mortification. This morning? She had been anxious about the trip and flying. She had forgotten all about food, except for the fruit she had nibbled on during the flight.
“The artifacts can wait. You need to eat.”
“I don’t…” Rieka’s stomach growled again, interrupting her. She threw her hands up. She would not win this battle. And now that he had mentioned it, she was hungry. “Fine.”
“Good. I will show you the second-best kept secret of the House.”
“And that is?”
“Tatiana’s cooking. She is the head chef of the House.” An actual smile tugged at Dante’s lips. “I have been trying to convince her to work for me for centuries.”
“What is the best kept secret?”
Dante smirked at her. “That can wait for tomorrow.”