16

FEATHER AND INK

Adelaide walked into the room where the auction would be held. Intricate windows, interlaced with metal framework, spanned the length of an entire wall, flooding the room in midday light. It danced off the crystal chandeliers overhead, sending flecks of tiny rainbows around the room. The rest of the space was dark wood and bright gold, which shone like sunrays when the light glanced off the gilded surface. Though a fresh coat of polish covered the worn floorboards, she could almost hear the scrape of shoes wearing grooves into the wood from years of noblemen twirling women of prestige around the dance floor in a flurry of colored skirts.

She scanned the ballroom for Charlie’s champagne curls, but they weren’t yet among the few people gathered to help set up for the event. Adelaide recognized a few faces from the gala, but none enough to recall a name or approach them. Everyone bustled about, arranging elaborate bouquets and hanging banners that sported the name and logo of Harvard’s Center for Marine Biology. A woman on a makeshift stage tested the microphone as a few other volunteers placed the last few chairs in the rows that faced it.

Colden sat in the last row. He leaned back in his chair, one foot propped on his knee as he flipped the pages of a newspaper. Adelaide rounded the end of the aisle and plopped down in the seat beside him. “This seat taken?”

“Anson, just the woman I need,” Colden said, the blunt end of a pencil gripped between his teeth in thought. “What’s a five-letter word for stealthy kleptomaniac?”

“Thief,” Adelaide responded, after some thought.

Colden chuckled to himself as he penciled thief in the boxes for five across. “Bet the crossword team got a kick out of that one after last night.”

Adelaide quirked her head, propping her arm on the back of her seat as she turned toward him. “What do you mean?”

Colden shifted the paper so she could see the front page. Adelaide was just starting to comprehend the headline when he said, “Holyrood was broken into last night.”

Adelaide’s heart squeezed with tension as she gripped the paper and scanned the article. “What did they take?”

Colden shook his head, his eyebrows scrunched in perplexation. “That’s the thing. Security did a full sweep when the breech was discovered. Nothing’s missing. Guess the thief got scared off before he could nab anything.”

“Guess so...” Adelaide knew the history of Holyrood wasn’t the only rich part of the estate. Between the portraits on the walls and jewels throughout the rooms, enough items of value would fetch millions on the black market with the right buyer. If they had already broken in, it would have taken mere seconds to smash a glass case and pocket the item inside. What kind of thief breaks in but doesn’t steal? “Do they know who did it?”

“Not a clue,” Colden folded the paper and set it on the seat beside him. “The article says the investigation is still underway, but it doesn’t sound like they’re hopeful they’ll find anything. Whoever it was knew what they were doing.”

Colden proceeded to regale her with tales of his favorite museum heists, gesturing dramatically as he wove the stories together in what Adelaide could only assume was a colorful way. On a normal day, she would have listened intently, even added in her own theories and speculations of those and other historical mysteries, but Adelaide, stuck with the odd feeling that tied her stomach in knots, tuned him out.

She suddenly realized Colden was asking her a question, but Charlie’s voice from behind saved her from answering. “I always suspected it was the mob, but Ad has her own theories on the Gardner Heist.” Charlie braced her hands on the back of Adelaide’s chair and leaned forward with a teasing smile on her lips. “But you’ll have to block off a few hours on your calendar to hear it since her stories tend to run down a hundred different rabbit trails before she gets to the point.”

Adelaide smacked Charlie with the newspaper and laughed. “Do not.”

“You do too, and you know it.” Charlie reached over the back of Adelaide’s chair and wrapped her in a playful hug. “But that’s why we love you.”

Pulling away, Charlie turned to Colden and flashed a million-dollar smile Adelaide knew she only broke out for special occasions. “Did you bring the painting? I can’t wait to see it. I already know of three potential buyers eager to bid on it.”

Colden rose slowly to his feet, gripping the front of his jacket with pride. “Of course. Let me show you.”

They moved out of the aisle. Colden extended his arm to Charlie with an elegant bow straight from an Austen novel. “My lady.”

Charlie took his arm and threw Adelaide a wink over her shoulder. Colden beckoned her along. As he led them across the room, he told them both more about the artist he was representing, taking care to mention the desire both he and the artist had to help contribute to such a worthy cause. Pierre Le Fleur was apparently well-known in his prime and had decided to make a re-entrance into the art world in a modern style completely unlike his previous works. The piece he had donated was the first in a new series he was unveiling next month in Italy.

Colden’s eyes lit with passion as he spoke, reminding Adelaide of the way Xander’s eyes would do the same whenever he had an idea for a new piece. He’d run into their clubhouse, words tumbling from his mouth as his hand began sketching concepts on the walls. She thought of the lighthouse he was working on now with the dark waves and sprays of foam breaking against the rocks. It was a far cry from the silver knights and golden dragons of his youth.

In the corner of the room, beside the makeshift stage, a series of tables were set up, overflowing with a variety of old and new items alike. Colden pulled a pair of white gloves from his pocket and slipped them over his fingers before gently picking up a painting that had been propped against the wall. He pulled the sheet off, slow and teasing, building anticipation to his final reveal of the artwork. It was a modern piece consisting of bold colors and black lines intersecting in a way Adelaide was sure made sense to the artist, but she could not for the life of her make out what it was supposed to be. It wasn’t the kind of art she ever found herself drawn to, but it was exactly the kind people with wealth liked to hang on the walls of their penthouse suites.

After several words of approval from Charlie, Colden covered the painting back up and returned it to its spot against the wall. With a final wave to Adelaide and glance back at Charlie, he headed off to find Matriarch and finalize the donation. Charlie clapped her hands together in excitement as she got down to business. Their job was to catalog auction items and tag them each with the proper information. Adelaide eyed the items as a dull ache settled behind her eyes. Hoping he hadn’t gotten too far yet, she whipped around and called Colden’s name. Thankfully he was only a few yards away, roped into a conversation with a woman Adelaide didn’t recognize.

Colden excused himself from the conversation and made his way back to them. “What’s up?”

“Do you mind if I borrow your gloves?” Adelaide pushed a stray curl aside. She hoped she didn’t look as desperate as she felt. “You can never be too careful when you’re handling antiques.”

“Sure,” Colden removed the gloves from inside his jacket pocket and handed them to her. “Keep them. I’ve got enough pairs for the hands of half the mimes in Paris.”

Adelaide thanked him and slipped the gloves on as he walked away. How much longer could she keep her secret hidden? If Colden hadn’t been there with an extra pair of gloves, how many antiques passing through her hands would it have taken to spark a trace? It was nearly impossible to avoid touching something with history in headquarters. The building itself, though rebuilt and updated in several places, still contained pieces of the ancient structure. It was only a matter of time before someone witnessed a trace. She had to figure out what they meant and how to control them before she had one in front of the wrong person. Hopefully Elise would turn up something in her search.

A few hours later Adelaide and Charlie finished tagging the final donations. She had been worried at first that even with the gloves on a trace would still occur, but the afternoon passed without incident. Adelaide pulled the gloves from her fingers and stuck them in her back pocket as Charlie threw herself into the nearest chair with a sigh. “Remind me why I volunteered for this.”

Adelaide crossed her arms and leaned back against the table. “Because you like event planning and you’re a sucker for marine life.”

“Right, I knew there was a good reason.” Charlie glanced around the room. “Well, it looks like everything is nearly done. Wanna grab a bite to eat? We haven’t exactly gotten to talk much since you showed up. Want to hit the town for a good old-fashioned girls’ night, my treat?”

“Well, if you’re buying, how can I refuse?”

“Sorry, ladies.”

Adelaide turned to see Matriarch approaching, the click of her heels announcing her presence. Unlike that night in the corridor, her hair was back in its usual coil at the base of her neck. “Your girls’ night is going to have to wait a few minutes more. I just had another donor drop this off, and I need it inventoried with the rest of the items.”

Before Adelaide could react, Matriarch placed the objects in her hands. She gasped. In the second it took Adelaide to register the inkwell and feather pen in her palm, a pain flared in her head as a trace unfolded before her.

A man sat at a desk in a dark room. Though he was draped in furs, he shivered, his breath frozen in the air as he dipped his feather pen in the inkwell. He proceeded to scrawl hasty lines across the surface of the unbound vellum pages before him. Flames from the taper candles around him flickered out one by one. The sillage of their smoke trails wafted in the air like a charmed snake. As the flames died out, his fervor persisted, stopping only to replace the diminished candles with fresh ones. Young flames sprang to life, lighting the man’s features. Though his hair was longer and the scruff on his face several days past a five-o’clock shadow, Adelaide recognized his eyes. They were kind and cold, youthful and ancient. An unchanged contradiction on the face of a man Adelaide had last seen several centuries ago in a graveyard. As he leaned forward to retrieve a fresh page, a gold pendant slipped from beneath the fold of his shirt.

The world slid back into view as the scene faded, a buzzing still ringing in Adelaide’s ears. Charlie stood in front of her with a face etched in worry. “Are you okay?”

She really wished people would stop asking her that.

Matriarch eased her back onto a chair she had swiped from the front row.

“Yeah,” Adelaide said, quickly slipping the feather pen and inkwell onto the table behind her. “I’m just a little light headed. Probably because I haven’t eaten anything today.”

“Don’t get up just yet.” Charlie said. “Let me get these cataloged, and then we can go and get you some food.”

Charlie grabbed her clipboard and proceeded to log the items.

Matriarch remained beside her. She leaned in, her breath hot on Adelaide’s neck as she whispered in her ear. “See anything interesting?”