Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“Maura,” Kierse confessed with a wince.
“Ah,” he said as if all the pieces slipped together in his brilliant mind. “She and Nate are getting married. They want to have kids.”
“Yes. They’ve exhausted all the options they have. I think you’re their hail mary.”
“No,” Graves said slowly. “There is no known cure.”
Kierse deflated. “I thought not.”
“But…”
Her eyes jumped back to his. “But?”
“There may be one, if we get the cauldron.”
Kierse’s mind whirled at the implication. “You think the cauldron could cure the curse?”
“A curse is a magical ailment. A magical healing might be possible,” he conceded. “We’d have to get our hands on it first.”
And now Kierse was more determined than ever to succeed at this heist.
Twenty minutes later, they were back in the library. Anne was perched on Gen’s lap, purring. Legitimately purring with contentment as Gen stroked her back. As if that cat let anyone pet her.
“You’re a witch,” Kierse said as she sank into a seat across from them.
Graves blinked at the sight. “Have you bespelled her?”
“Animals like me,” Gen said with a smile for Anne. “She knows who to trust.”
Graves and Kierse looked up at each other, and Kierse bit her lip to contain a laugh. Perhaps that was a fair assessment.
Laz yawned as he stretched out all of his khaki onto the blue chaise that had been brought in for Kierse’s training sessions. “He’s late.”
“He usually is,” Graves said in irritation.
At that moment, the library door flew open, and in walked a massive man with the gait of a sailor. His stride was a sway more than a prowl, as if he was still on the deck of a boat out to sea. He was built like a tank, all broad shoulders and thick waist, and he had russet-brown skin with black hair in long locs down his back.
It wasn’t until he was closer that she could see the webbing between his fingers and spattering of iridescent blue scales that glittered along his wrists and neck. He was a mer.
She was surprised. As far as she knew, Graves didn’t normally work with monsters. She hadn’t known what to expect from Schwartz, but she had assumed he was human like Laz.
“Ah, Schwartzy!” Laz said, jumping to his feet. He clapped hands with the man, and they bumped chests.
“Lazarus,” Schwartz said in a deep voice with the hint of a Caribbean accent she couldn’t place more precisely. “My brother.”
“Find the shipwreck I told you about off the coast of Trinidad and Tobago?” Laz asked with a grin.
“If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you,” he rumbled with a chuckle. He pushed past Laz and held his hand out to Graves. “Boss.”
Graves shook his hand. “Good to have you on board.”
“Good to be back in the city. The weather is more to my liking.”
“Hot,” Graves grumbled.
“I come from warm waters and clear currents,” he said simply. “Your Central Park is far from that.”
“I converted the swimming pool to salt,” Graves said.
Schwartz grinned, revealing stark-white teeth. “That will do.”
“Swimming pool?” Kierse demanded. “You have a swimming pool?”
“Of course I do,” Graves said.
Gen raised her eyebrows. “Of course he does.”
Kierse was baffled. She had cased this place, covering every inch of the townhouse the last time she lived here. Where was the fucking pool?
“Allow me to introduce you to Augustin Saint-Fleur Schwartz.”
Schwartz screwed up his face. “My full name, Boss? Should we start calling you Brannon?”
“Not if you want to keep your head,” Graves said mildly.
Schwartz laughed and leaned back against the table. “My mother is a Haitian mer, and my father was a missionary. She wanted me to have both names,” he said by way of explanation. “Schwartz just stuck. As did Graves.”
Graves continued, “Schwartz here is in security. He’s gotten a job in the company in charge of protecting the auction items.” Graves nodded at Schwartz. “Why don’t you report?”
Schwartz handed Graves a sheaf of paper. “The list of attendees. No one outside of the expected list.”
Graves looked it over and sighed. “Indeed. Lorcan is going to be there.”
“Is that a problem?” Kierse asked.
“He’s always a problem.” His eyes continued down the names. “A few billionaires you’ve probably stolen for or from, some monsters—I can guess what they’re after—Amberdash.”
Kierse jolted. “What’s he doing there?”
Gregory Amberdash was a wraith businessman. He’d been a middleman for Kierse’s thievery jobs after she’d dispatched Jason. He’d warned her that something was coming for her after the job to steal from Graves, but she hadn’t known where his allegiances lay. She still didn’t.
“Same thing he always is,” Graves said, “meddling and trying to look important.” He tossed the paper aside. “No one who should interfere. How do we get the cauldron?”
Schwartz gestured with one hand. “No way that I can discern. I wrote up the system in place, and no one is stealing this thing.”