Page 14 of Curses & Keys (Curses & Gods #1)
PHAEDRA
When I turned the ignition, a special app on my vehicle touchscreen lit up with a message and a dot.
Furious, I got out, slid under my car, and yanked off the tracker.
After a quick look around, I left it in the center of my parking spot.
Probably Jamison, but out of caution, I decide to take the back way to the airstrip.
Owned by a paranoid demon who jokingly calls himself Maverick, the private airstrip outside Raleigh allows me to come and go without having to fly commercial or use a portal.
I call to let him know I’m going to be leaving on my private jet in half an hour and to let the pilot know we’re headed to London.
Thankfully, I keep the plane stocked with everything I could possibly need, from weapons to surveillance equipment to the crack technology I use to break into today’s sophisticated security systems. I quickly pull the car into the hangar and cover it with a tarp.
I wait outside the small jet while Charlie checks it over.
Maverick introduced us a few years ago, and we’ve flown together ever since.
Charlie, real name unknown, is a pilot and mage, which comes in handy.
After performing the usual maintenance checks, he then runs a spell to check for trackers and other nasty surprises.
I snort. Come to think of it, we all might be paranoid.
He jerks his chin in my direction, and I board the plane.
Once on, I buckle in and open my laptop to start viewing the area around tonight’s meet.
It’s a derelict warehouse called The Millennium Mills.
Abandoned for over forty years, it sits quietly on the edge of the Royal Victoria Docks in East London.
In its heyday, it was once the largest center for flour milling in London.
Today, the area is undergoing revitalization.
Fortunately, they haven’t touched the warehouse yet.
I scroll through the images online to get a feel for the place.
Mostly concrete and broken windows, the main building stands roughly ten stories tall with a couple of additional abandoned buildings nearby.
Eerie and grey, the outside is full of overgrown weeds, the perfect setting for a zombie apocalypse.
I chuckle. Or a secret meeting to sell a stolen archaeological piece.
I get to work. With the blueprints pulled up on one monitor, I create a replica and overlay it onto the actual building.
I note several places where I can set traps without bringing the building down on top of me, memorize all the exits, and estimate the proximity to the water from every angle in case I need to use it as an exit.
Once everything is plotted, I call a contact in London to request specific ammunition and detonation devices.
Mercer sends me an invoice for the entire amount.
Non-refundable. We’ve been doing business together for four hundred years, but she still insists on full payment.
I pay it and tell her to stop worrying so much.
While she doesn’t know who I am, I’m sure she’s pieced a few things together over the years, especially when I request something unique from her.
She always delivers but demands payment upfront to mitigate any risks.
I wish I knew her real name. Everyone refers to her as Mercer or The Merchant.
She’s part of a larger underground group called Harlequin.
We’ve met a couple of times when I’ve picked up my order, but she’s overly cautious in giving out any personal information.
Not that I blame her, but it would be nice to have more friends instead of acquaintances.
Finally, I pack. Climbing gear, electronic devices, handheld weapons, magical potions, and my bulletproof suit that has fabric to render me invisible to infrared technology along with a few other surprises.
I stop and look around, but there’s nothing left to pack or do.
I drop into the seat to grab a catnap. It’s going to be a long night.
Hefting the duffle over my shoulder, I begin the long trek up to the roof.
Dark and cold, the stairway in the center of the building was the least exposed.
I move quickly, floor by floor, until I reach the top, then prop open the door.
Keeping my body low, I cross from one side to the other to set up the ropes and stash weapons in several key places, then add a few cameras to give me visuals.
I’m tempted to peek over the side and scan the surrounding area but fight the urge.
It only gives away my position, and I need every advantage I can get.
Leaving the door propped open, I head down, then over to an interior staircase to lay one of the traps.
I do the same with the one on the other side.
Forcing everyone to the center evens the playing field.
Shutting the roof door, I add a tiny laser tripwire to alert me if it’s opened.
Downstairs, I slip out a window and crawl through the weeds to the overgrown bushes near the front door and set up another tripwire.
Sticking low to the ground, I slide around to the back of the building and do the same.
Of course, they could come through one of the many nonexistent windows, but larger groups will likely use one of the entrances.
I return to the building, make my way to the designated meeting spot, and wait. An hour later, the cameras pick up a shadow moving along the side of the building. Small in stature. No weapons that I can see, but that means nothing. Supernaturals have their own built-in arsenals.
A small green sphere moves from the shadow to the building.
It floats along until it comes to a stop in front of me.
It scans my body, changing from green to purple.
I mentally flinch, unsure what that means, but I don’t like it.
After a moment, the sphere disappears, and a shadow stands in its place. Nice trick.
“Forgive the intrusion, but I had to know you weren’t one of the humans who have been trying to get their hands on this key,” he says in a shockingly familiar voice. “I never expected the buyer to be you, Phaedra.”
Is this a trap? Frantic, I move toward the door, my head on a swivel, ears straining for the slightest of sounds, trying to find the men he brought with him. Magic wraps around me, but I shrug it off.
“Wait, I beg you,” Dr. Samuels pleads behind me. “It’s just me, Letz. I came alone. Please hear me out.”
I stop but don’t turn around.
“Me and my…colleagues have been tracking you for centuries. We know of the work you’ve done to remove curses and dark magic from artifacts,” he reveals in a rush. “You could say we’re your biggest fans.”
That’s not good. All these years I thought I’d hidden myself well. I bite my lip and slowly turn to face him. “What are you talking about?”
He conjures another ball and floats it up to the ceiling. The glow sheds a little light into the room, showing me Dr. Letz Samuels isn’t even wearing a disguise. “That’s better.”
After a sigh, he continues his story. “Over the years, we narrowed it down to a handful of people. You were at the top of the list, but until we could prove it, we had no way of knowing for sure. We needed something big to lure you out in the open. Nolan’s collection gave us that opportunity.
The work you did to remove the threats was incredible. We were very impressed.”
Damn, he does know who I am, or at least what I do, but I refuse to admit to anything. He’s an old, powerful mage. Who knows what magic he can wield.
“What do you think you know about me?” I draw the weapon at my side, along with a potion. I may not be able to cast magic, but I can wield it.
He eyes the vial in my hand. “There’s no need for violence, I assure you.
” When I keep the items raised, he gives me a gentle smile, then continues.
“I first stumbled across your work about a thousand years ago. A young mage, interested in the world’s artifacts, I went to work for the Catholic Church.
” He chuckles. “I know. A mage working for a human religious organization. It was a leap of faith on my part. They, of course, thought I was human. It sounds bizarre, but back then, they were the only legitimate game in town. They had amassed the largest collection of relics, art, and other historical pieces, and I wanted access to it.”
His eyes shine with memories from that time.
“Most of the apprentices were human, except for me and two others. As we sifted through the items, we could sense the magic in them, and not all of it was good. So we started working together to remove the spells designed to hurt humans or supernaturals.”
Astonished, I slide my weapons back into their holders.
He exhales loudly. “Thank you. Now, where was I? Oh yes. When we finished cataloging the collection for the church, the three of us formed a pact to continue our work on any future pieces. We recruited more members, and a thousand years later, we now have sixty dedicated supernaturals who do everything in their power to follow in your footsteps.”
His words hit me like a sledgehammer, and for a second, I forget to breathe.
For three thousand years, I’ve felt alone.
Trudging through life, doing the job I chose to do, with just a kernel of hope to fuel me.
Invisible to the world. No family or friends to give life meaning.
Only a singular, never-ending, and unappreciated purpose.
His words… I swallow hard. I feel seen. Valued. I should be concerned the gods will find out that I’ve been exposed, but if Letz’ group has been operating this long, they know how to keep a secret, including mine.
My voice is barely a whisper when I ask the question burning in my mind. “Why me?”