Gryphon and His Thief (8 page)

Darrien's frown deepened, but she couldn't be
sure if it was because she stood there or that he was still
disoriented from his ordeal. She cleared her throat and tried for
small talk. "I'm interested in viewing the museum," she told him.
"I've heard you have some interesting objects on display. I'm
writing a thesis and my topic is about if items can be cursed."

Nerdy Darrien, as she decided to refer to
this version of Darrien, pushed his glasses back on the bridge of
his nose as he assessed her, not with interest as a man who was
attracted to her, but with suspicion. He definitely was not the
same man she'd spoken to inside the museum ten minutes ago. This
version didn't know her or trust her, but she had to somehow change
his mind.

"How did you hear about the museum, Miss…?"
he asked.

"I'm Calli Angelis." She stepped closer with
slow easy steps as if she was dealing with a frightened animal, and
Nerdy Darrien was doing a great imitation of one. She didn't want
him bolting before they had a chance to chat.

His gaze slid over her and his dark brows
furrowed again as he blinked a few times in a row. For a moment,
she thought he might remember her, but then his features smoothed
as if those memories weren't allowed to surface. "Miss
Angelis—"

"Calli," she corrected as she took another
step closer and offered her hand.

He stared at her outstretched palm for a
second before gripping her hand, but the electrical shock made them
both pull back in surprise. She'd experienced the same thing when
his other half had grabbed her hand – flesh-to-flesh contact, she
realized – though, that encounter had been a tad bit more
explosive. "Sorry about that," she said as she rubbed her palm.

Darrien waved it off. "Static electricity… it
happens— Forgive me, but why are you here again? We don't have many
visitors. This is more of a storage facility than anything else."
He still seemed wary of her and she wasn't sure how to put him at
ease.

"Do you really believe the items you guard…I
mean, oversee are cursed?" she asked.

"Oh, indeed I do, Miss…um…Angelis." His tone
was haughty, as he peered at her over the rim of those adorable
glasses. "If you think this is a game," he continued without a
beat, "you can just run along home now." He actually waved her away
like he would shoo away a pesky fly.

Her brows rose and she almost smiled at how
serious he seemed, but she could ill-afford to piss off this
version of Darrien. She didn't have much time before she had to
contact Miss Leander and hand over the stone. She really didn't
fancy the idea of sharing the world with the living dead. She'd
seen enough zombie movies to know it didn't end well for the
living.

"No, I don't think this is a game. I take
curses seriously. You see, I am in possession of a cursed item and
I would like to discuss what I should do with it. You come very
highly recommended. Please, don't send me away." She turned on her
charm, or at least hoped she did, and smiled sweetly with a slight
bat of her eyelids. "Please, I need your help. I don't know who
else I can ask." She kept her smile in place and hoped she hadn't
poured it on too thick in the damsel in distress department. She
really didn't play that role very well.

Nerdy Darrien pulled on his tie as if it had
suddenly constricted his airway. "Fine. Why don't I put on a pot of
tea and we'll have a nice chat. Yeah?"

She did love this version of Darrien as much
or even more than the
beastie-I-am-cursed
version. There was
just something endearing about him, she thought as she followed him
around to the front of the museum.

As they made their stroll, her mind skipped
ahead to a story she would spin for his benefit. Obviously,
thinking and walking proved too much for her. She never noticed
Darrien ceased to take one step in front of the other and plowed
right into him. All plots vanished from her mind. Hitting someone
as solid as Darrien would do that to a person. She stumbled and
almost ended up on her rump, but she had great reflexes and her
hand snaked out, grabbing Darrien's cardigan to steady her. He
glanced over his shoulder with concern. "Sorry," he apologized.

She let her hands fall to her side, but
before she could question him about his great imitation of a tree
suddenly taking root, he strode away from her to plant himself in
front of the busted window. She'd forgotten about that little
mishap last night.

"I can't believe this," he stated, probably
not to her, but just blowing off steam. "Bloody vandals." Then his
anger turned to concern. "Oh, I do hope they didn't take anything.
This is an utter disaster." He hurried past her, producing a key he
had stuffed in the pocket of his cardigan. Obviously, this version
of Darrien didn't have nifty gifts like opening locks with his
palms. He needed a key like the rest of the mere mortals.

Darrien halted in front of the door that
stood slightly ajar. He cursed softly as he nudged the door open
the rest of the way.

With a sigh, she followed him inside and came
to stand next to him as he stared at the window, or rather lack of
one. His brows knitted together and she was beginning to think this
was an expression he wore often. "How very odd," he commented and
it made her stare at the window frame too.

"What is?" she asked.

He glanced at her. "It appears as if the
glass was broken from the inside. See how there are very little
fragments on the floor?" He strode closer to the windowsill and
peered out. "The shards litter the ground outside."

"Uh…yep, very odd," was all she could muster
to say.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he turned to face her,
"but we'll have to postpone this meeting. I'll have to call someone
out to repair the glass, and do an extensive inventory to make sure
nothing was stolen. It will take me all day, if not longer, to do a
proper job of it." He started past her, but she placed a hand on
his arm, and he halted his steps to gaze at her expectantly.

"I can't leave just yet. I think once you
hear me out, you'll understand why."

His gaze shifted to where her hand rested on
his arm.

"Darrien? Did you hear me?"

He met her eyes. "You were saying?" Then he
frowned. "How do you know my first name? I never told you."

Now he notices.
She only addressed him
as Darrien outside in the carport, but then maybe he still had been
a tad loopy from his transformation. "We have a mutual… friend,"
she settled on for lack of a better description of their
relationship. Reincarnated lovers didn't seem a good place to
start.

"A mutual friend?" he asked. He had an
absent-minded professor look about him. She would bet this version
of Darrien misplaced things on a regular basis. Must be a side
effect of the curse and the whole soul-splitting ordeal… or
whatever the process was called.

"Earth to Darrien," she said to gain his
attention.

His eyes came into focus, the golden brown a
darker shade. "Sorry, just thinking," he told her. "I can't deny
it. You do have me curious, Miss…"

"Calli, will be fine."

"Miss Calli."

"Uh… oh, never mind."

"Good then. If you don't mind me making a few
calls…"

"Not at all. Please take your time. I'm not
in a hurry."

"Come along then," he said as he turned away
and headed toward the back of the museum. "Nothing will be open as
of yet anyway. I'll ring a place at a more respectable hour and
make the arrangements to have the window fixed. Until then, we
might as well have that proper cup of tea I promised you." He
strode by his desk where the statue of the Gryphon sat strong and
true.

He'd only taken a few more steps, before he
came up short and whirled around to stare at the beast, who in
return seemed to be staring back. She had to admit it was a little
disconcerting.

Darrien lowered his glasses to the tip of his
nose as if somehow his eyewear had become faulty. "What in the
bloody hell is going on here?"

"Is something the matter?" she asked, all
innocent and smiles, but knowing perfectly well he was referring to
the statue and wondering how it had moved from the back room to
here.

He whirled toward her as if a response danced
on the tip of his tongue, but then he must have decided to rein in
his explanation for his sudden outburst. Most likely knowing any
claim he issued would sound like he'd lost his mind. Instead, he
shook his head as he pushed the glasses back onto the bridge of his
nose. "Nothing." He turned and continued on, reaching the swinging
door situated behind the desk. His hand pushed it open to reveal a
kitchen hidden behind it. The museum did have all the perks, but
she supposed it would have to since a cursed being was trapped
inside.

Callista's father had been a real piece of
work. He cursed Darrien for something that wasn't his fault, a
curse which trapped him forever within a stone statue and in a man
who surely felt the loss of his other half, but hid behind his work
to compensate for it. Nerdy Darrien and Beastie Darrien could never
truly live.

"How do you take your tea?" Seconds ticked by
before she realized he'd spoken to her. "Tea?" he repeated when she
met his gaze. "How do you take it?" he clarified.

She had no idea since she really was a coffee
kind of gal. "Uh… I'll take it however you do."

He gave her a slight nod, seemingly satisfied
with her response. Once they had their teacups in hand, they headed
out of the kitchen. He offered her a seat in the chair, but she
decided on the desktop, feeling he may need to sit comfortably when
she gave him a recap of her evening with him...or rather his other
half.

He finally took a seat too, but took forever
to find a comfortable position. He repositioned himself so many
times she was about to ask him if he needed to go to the restroom,
but she realized it was her close proximity that made him squirm in
his seat. She would have chosen another chair, but she wasn't going
to take a chance of sitting in one of the cursed ones and have the
enchantment transferred to her.
No sir-ee Bob, and thank you
very much.

She sipped the brew and was pleasantly
surprised she liked the taste of black tea with a splash of milk.
Go figure.

Finally, Darrien settled and he raised his
teacup that appeared way too dainty in his large hands. Yet, she
had to admit, he handled it with finesse and didn't look a bit like
a sissy when he pressed it to his lips. He indulged in a respectful
taste of his brew before lowering the cup and meeting her gaze.
"You were going to tell me about the cursed item of yours," he
said. He was all business-like now he'd had his morning fix.
"Please proceed if you will," he encouraged further.

He wasn't going to like what she had to tell
him anymore than she liked telling it. "I'm going to give it to you
straight because… Well, we just don't have the time."

"We?" he asked, catching she'd included him
in this scenario.

"Sit back, Big Boy. Storytelling isn't my
thing, so bear with me and know I do apologize for my lack of
finesse."

Chapter Ten

Darrien listened to Calli's story with
minimal interruptions, but truthfully hadn't known what to say.
Dear God, the story the woman spun and she didn't believe herself a
storyteller – curses and mythical beasts... Surely, this story
should be on the bestseller list for fantasy reads, or at the very
least, a hopeful for the next Sci-fi show on the telly.

"…and then we came in here," she finished
with a long sigh. She sipped her tea and obviously waited for his
response, but he could only manage to stare at her in
disbelief.

He forced himself to close his mouth before
she thought he had a stroke. He still may have one. This woman –
this thief, so she coined herself – claimed he was a cursed man,
not any cursed man, but a Gryphon as well. His gaze shifted to the
beastie sitting there regarding him with attitude. He blinked, hard
and ran a hand through his hair, not caring it would probably stand
up on end. This had to be a bloody joke, one he was not privy to
the reasoning behind it.

He stared at Calli with her long
ginger-colored hair, big moss colored eyes and… His gaze traveled
down the rest of her, taking in every womanly attribute. The woman
truly tried his restraint – not that he'd be in her league or that
she'd look at him at all if she hadn't been deranged. Yes, that was
possibly the case here. This woman was mad and he needed to ring
the police before she came unhinged. Truly, he didn't know what she
was capable of doing, but he had a hunch she'd do it well.

He caught sight of the broken window. Perhaps
she'd smashed it with the intention of playing this elaborate jest.
His gaze shifted to the Gryphon again. The beast stared at him with
those unnerving golden-bronze eyes. The darn thing put him on edge,
always had.

Finally, he leveled his gaze on Calli once
more. She did lay claim to being a thief, but she couldn't have
moved the heavy statue by herself, could she?

She could have an accomplice,
he
thought
.
And didn't that just up his panic response. No, the
woman was alone or else the other guy…or gal would have joined them
by now.

He smiled at the would-be-thief, knowing he'd
have to tread lightly and play nice with the pretty nutter, at
least until he could ring for help, but at this precise moment he
needed to answer her. "It's a lot to take in. Yeah?" he said and
leaned back in his chair. He folded his hands, pressing the tips of
his forefingers together and tapped his chin. He glanced at the
phone on his desk and ruled out using it, since she would subdue
him before he could dial a number. Not that the itty-bitty thing
could take him down. He wasn't completely useless, but who knew if
she carried a weapon.