Page 8

Chapter eight

A ntony wouldn’t stop fiddling with the earpiece and microphone set up that Odelle had borrowed from work. She had to snatch it away from him to clip it onto Thad’s jacket. Luckily, Thad’s silk pocket square offered perfect camouflage for the small black microphone, and she fed the cord through the buttonhole to the battery pack hidden in his inner pocket.

“This set up is pretty staticky,” Odelle explained apologetically. “I took this one because nobody at work likes to use it, and they were less likely to notice it was missing. Still, Antony and I should be able to hear you in the earpieces when you give the signal to move in. Test it out now.”

“Hello, Odelle, my dear,” Thad said.

She heard his voice from both directly in front of her, and in her ear as clear as a bell.

“Huh, maybe the network got it fixed,” she observed as she tapped the device.

“It just had a loose wire,” Antony interjected. “I fixed it.”

“How do you know how electronics work?” Odelle asked, incredulous.

“Light, electricity—it’s all energy…” Antony’s sentence trailed off into a massive yawn that he tried to muffle into his shoulder.

It drew attention to the circles, dark as bruises, under his eyes. Thad distracted her before she could ask Antony about them .

“Ok, let’s go over the plan.” Thad rubbed his hands together. “I’m going to go in and get them to show me their collection. Hopefully, I can get them to turn off any alarms on the cases so I can inspect the pieces more closely. Then, I’ll try to move them downstairs to look at the jewelry. When I give the signal, Antony enters through the bathroom window and switches out the crown. Odelle, you stay in the car to coordinate and be the getaway driver.”

Odelle shook her head. “Being the brains of the operation seems so much less fun without a van full of screens and spy equipment. Alas, I drive a sedan.”

Thad patted her shoulder sympathetically. “Next time we steal a priceless artifact, I’ll rent you a van.”

The drive to the Whitehall’s house was short, but this time Odelle parked around the corner, just in view of the back deck and balcony that would serve as Antony’s point of entrance.

“Alright, time to see if we can get these socialites to swallow this hook,” Thad said as he grabbed his case of jewelry and straightened his bowtie. Then he disappeared around the corner, and Odelle and Antony settled in to wait.

Odelle didn’t want to miss Thad’s signal, but the thought of sitting in silence for the next half hour with Antony was not appealing. She turned to ask him for more information about how the crown’s powers worked, then paused. His head leaned back on the headrest, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Odelle stared at the pale column of his throat for a moment, observing the slight bob of his Adam’s apple as he took slow, even breaths. He appeared to be…asleep?

Odelle cleared her throat, but he didn’t rouse. She could now hear Thad greeting the Whitehall’s in her earpiece, but her focus remained fixed on Antony. Odelle gently jostled his shoulder, and his head fell forward before jerking upright. He blinked as if dazed before his eyes focused on Odelle.

“Did you have to stay up all night to finish the crown or something?” Odelle asked.

Antony shook himself.

“I finished yesterday afternoon,” he said with a shake of his head. “Since the Defeat, using the Light for Smithing is more exhausting than it used to be.”

Odelle frowned.

“I thought the copy of the crown wasn’t going to have any powers—that you wouldn’t be using the Light.”

Antony opened the box in his lap to reveal the delicate work of bronze within.

“I still had to use Light to make this copy, even if I wasn’t imbuing it. I had to use similar techniques to the ones I used to make the original to get the copy to be believable.” Antony lifted the crown out of the box, and it glittered, casting dots of rainbow light around the interior of Odelle’s car. The way it glowed had Odelle questioning Antony’s assertions that it didn’t carry any innate magical properties.

Antony blinked slow and heavy as he inspected the crown, like the blink of a cat settling in for a long nap. His chin momentarily sagged towards his chest before he jerked his head up again.

Odelle bit her lip. Exhaustion did not bode well for Antony’s challenge of climbing in through a third story window and switching out the crowns. In her ear, Thad chattered away about pottery to the Whitehalls. Odelle would just have to distract Antony from his exhaustion. Keep him awake the same way she had survived long nights of studying in graduate school. She glanced at the crown in his lap.

“Can I try it on?” she blurted out .

Antony looked back and forth between her and the crown.

“Uh…sure.”

He held it out to her. Odelle picked it up gingerly, as if it were made of spun glass. Antony had assured her that the real crown wouldn’t break easily, but the olive leaves looked so delicate, Odelle still felt like they might crumple under her fingers.

Placing it on her head, Odelle opened the mirror in the sun visor to make sure the peak of the laurels was centered on her forehead. Catching sight of herself, she had to admit she was disappointed crowns were no longer an acceptable choice for everyday fashion. She never wanted to take this off.

Odelle looked at Antony and found him glazed over, staring at her with his mouth hanging open. He really was out of it.

“Are you sure this thing isn’t magic?” she asked in an effort to perk him up. “Because it feels kind of magical to me.”

Antony snapped out of his stupor once more.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he said. “With the way our access to the Light is now, imbuing something with the Light would probably put me in a coma.”

Odelle frowned, remembering how Nora had slept for a whole day after using the Light to save her a few months back. Antony seemed to be faring better, but only just.

“So the original, you imbued it with Light to give it the power to amplify the wearer’s best trait? Why?” Odelle endeavored to keep Antony engaged.

Antony stared at the crown instead of Odelle’s face as he responded. “To be honest, just to prove to myself that I could. It was a deceptively tricky project, and I felt that completing it would convince me that I had mastered the Light. It was the first thing I made after finishing my apprenticeship with the Smiths. A test I set for myself. ”

“Why was it so difficult? Did you imbue it with a lot of Light?”

Antony shook his head. “That’s what made it so difficult. Making it too powerful caused its effects to backfire. Amplify somebody’s best trait too much and you soon find out that it’s usually also their worst trait. Confidence quickly amplifies into pride, and even compassion can become paralyzing when it keeps you from taking a stand for what you believe in.”

Odelle chewed on his words, reflecting on every person who had ever referred to her as too much and how they would react if her personality was amplified. “What did you have to do to make it work the way you wanted it to?”

“Less.” Antony chuckled, talking about his work bringing a little spark back to his eyes despite the bags beneath them. “It turned into less an exercise in amplifying traits and more a practice of polishing them so they show in their brightest light. Changing traits too dramatically throws off the whole balance of a person’s personality.”

“Thank you for turning off the motion sensors so I can get a better look. Your collection really is magnificent,” Thad spoke in Odelle’s ear, startling her. Her conversation with Antony engrossed her so thoroughly that she forgot she was wearing an earpiece. She nudged Antony.

“Good thing we sent Thad in first,” she commented, lifting the crown off her head and placing it back in the box.

“I have some pieces with me that would add to it nicely. In particular, I’m thinking of a necklace with a Herculean knot. Quite iconic.”

“Herculean knot,” Odelle echoed. “That’s your cue.”

Antony opened the door and heaved himself from the car. He hesitated for a moment, one hand braced on the roof of the car as if he needed it to balance. Odelle grimaced. That wasn’t promising. Then he took a few steps away from the car and wavered .

Odelle only chewed her lip for a moment before jumping out of the car, locking the door behind her. Antony had nearly concussed himself in the Whitehall’s house when he was firing on all cylinders. She wasn’t sending him in there alone when he was barely walking.

Antony shot her a questioning look as she trotted up next to him.

“Give me the replica.” Odelle held out her hands. “You’re dead on your feet. If you keel over in there, the noise will catch their attention.”

Antony hugged the box closer to himself.

“I need to do this job myself. Something about the crown…well— I’d just feel better doing it myself.”

“Yes, I know you don’t think I’m good enough to run with the immortal sorcerers, but I’m not letting you go in there alone and blow our cover.”

Antony looked utterly bewildered, and Odelle threw up her hands.

“We don’t have time to argue over this,” she huffed. “If you insist on doing this yourself, then we’re going in together. You handle the crown; I’ll make sure you don’t collapse.”

Odelle started marching towards the back of the house. There was a moment of silence, and then the crunch of Antony’s boots on the frozen grass indicated that he followed her. Reaching the back deck, they climbed up the stairs leading to the second story balcony. It seemed ostentatious to have this much outdoor living space in a city that spent two-thirds of the year deeply embedded in winter, but Odelle supposed that’s what happened when you had too much money to throw around.

As they reached the balcony, Odelle frowned up at the short climb to the bathroom window. She hadn’t fully considered this part when she insisted on coming with Antony, but she wasn’t about to admit that now. A rustle beside her made her look at Antony, who had tucked the crown into his jacket, and now got down on one knee beside her .

When Odelle stared at him in confusion, he held out a hand.

“Step on my leg, and you’ll be able to reach the windowsill.”

Odelle stared at his thigh. The pants he had bought with Drew did his lean form justice, and Odelle’s boots were crusted with ice and salt. Still, if this expedition went as planned, Antony could be done coming to the city, and Odelle wouldn’t have to worry about his thighs—pants-clad or otherwise—anymore.

Odelle took the proffered hand and gingerly placed her foot on his leg. As she shifted her weight, she wavered. With the build of a cross-country runner, Antony’s thighs were narrow, and Odelle’s ankle on this set of prosthetics only flexed in one dimension, making it difficult for her to adjust her balance.

Antony reached up to steady her, his free hand landing on her thigh. His fingers slid just under the hem of her dress, and she bit her lip. The pads of Antony’s fingers pressed into her flesh as she reached up towards the broad windowsill. She caught hold of it, heaving herself up. She sent a prayer of thanks to her personal trainer for what upper body strength she had, and Antony helped her make up the difference. He stood as she climbed, giving her the lift she needed to scrabble upwards.

Odelle told herself to focus on her grip on the icy sill, and not the fact that Antony could see straight up her skirt at this angle. She struggled to remember what underwear she put on that morning. Plain black. Disappointingly bland but thankfully unrevealing.

She slid open the window—unlatched courtesy of Thad—and tumbled inside as quietly as she could manage. As she leaned back out the window, Antony held the crown up to her so he wouldn’t have to hold it as he climbed. Taking it from him, Odelle nearly turned away, about to dart across the hall to the gallery and finish the job herself. She looked at the salty boot print on Antony’s thigh and the bit of tongue peeking out in concentration as he began to climb and sighed. As he grasped the windowsill, she did her best to help pull him inside. The scrape of his boots on the icy brick grated her eardrums as she listened for any indication that the Whitehalls were upstairs. Still, as Antony hopped down into the bathroom, the only other noises were their quiet pants.

Odelle opened the bathroom door, peaking around the corner to double-check that they were alone. Confirming that Thad had the Whitehalls occupied downstairs, she crept across the hall, Antony on her heels. Her heart jumped to her throat, the same way it had when she was a child, running down the hallway to Irina’s room to escape some nightmare that plagued her.

She was an adult. She could do this. Immortal sorcerers who found her lacking be damned.

Entering the gallery room, they made their way to the plinth with the crown. While it stood in the middle of the room, the way it drew the eye went beyond its prominent placement. Odelle drifted towards it. She reached the latch on the back of the glass case and lifted it open. As she reached inside, fingers stretching towards the incandescent metal, she grew even more excited to hold the original crown. To have such a powerful artifact in her grasp.

“Wait.”

Odelle looked up at Antony in tense confusion, her fingers hovering an inch from the crown.

“Somethings…off.”

Odelle cocked her head in question.

“I thought something seemed different with it when we came here before, and—something with its powers have been altered,” Antony whispered .

“Well, it has been millennia since you’ve seen it so maybe you remember it wrong,” Odelle argued, “Besides, if something is wrong, all the more reason to get it back to the Sanctuary.”

Antony wavered, before nodding, though his expression remained pinched.

A piercing, inhuman screech split the air as soon as Odelle’s fingers grazed the crown. She snatched her hand back as if that would stop the noise, but it was too late. Footsteps pounded in the direction of the stairs. Antony’s head whipped back and forth, but there was nowhere for them to run. They were caught.