Stolen Fate (5 page)

There. Another rustle. Had the god’s envoys beaten them to the museum? Fiona stepped forward. He reached behind and pressed a hand to her stomach, staying her. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran up his arm at the feel of her soft warmth beneath his palm.

A moan filtered through the alley and Fiona tensed beneath his hand. He barely perceived her reaching into her boot to withdraw her dagger.

The moan sounded again, this time louder and clearer. His gaze snapped toward the sound and he saw two figures pressed against the wall near the museum’s small private entrance.

Holy fuck. Two people were having sex. His blood rushed even as annoyance surged through him. Had he not been locked up for nearly a century, no doubt he’d have only felt annoyance.
 

He stepped forward to break up the party, but Fiona’s hand clamped on his arm.
 

“Nay,” she hissed. “I doona want them knowing our faces.”

He turned back. “What?”

“In case something goes wrong at the museum. I doona want a trail that leads back to us. Come on.” She pulled his arm. “We’ll wait it out in this doorway.”

His jaw clenched, but he let her lead him toward an inset doorway. They had about two feet of cubbyhole in which to hide, so he stepped onto the stoop behind her and tucked himself into the shadows. They stood so close together that he could feel the heat of her against him.

He stiffened, unable to keep his cock from following suit. It’d been too damn long.

The noises from the alley increased. Damn drunken idiots.

Fiona whispered from behind him, “You’re a Historious. Why’d you turn to stealing? You could have worked for the university as an Acquirer, like me.”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“I doona get it. You could have had a nice life and never gotten arrested.” She sounded genuinely perplexed.

He sure as hell could use a distraction from the couple in the alley, so he answered. “The only way to get a nice life is to build it for yourself. No way in hell was the university going to get it for me.”

“Why no’? You’ve got the skills. They’d have hired you.”

“I’m no’ a joiner. I grew up on the streets of Edinburgh, a half-breed Mythean orphan who had no one and nothing.”

“You never knew who your parents were?”

“Nay. It took me years to figure out there were others like me, and years more to piece together that I’m half Sylph and half Historius.” It’d taken years of research to figure out he’d gotten his invisibility from his Sylph parent, and a bloodhound’s sense for the location of valuable artifacts from his Historious parent. The ability to work spells had come shortly after he’d frozen into his immortality around thirty. But who his parents were, he had no idea.

“I’m sorry.”

“Doona be.”

“So you turned out to be a thief,” she said. “You use your powers to steal history.”

Cold pierced him and he felt a pinch in his chest. Confused, he rubbed over his heart. “You doona like that.”

“No' too fond of it.”
 

“I only stole from those who could afford it.” He found that he wanted her to think well of him. It felt weird as hell to care what anyone else thought, especially someone from the university.

“I doona know that I agree with that. You specialized in ancient artifacts, right?”

“Aye. Their owners were dead. What did they care?” The noise from the couple in the alley picked up, and he tried to focus on Fiona. It wasn’t difficult. She smelled so damn good.

“Maybe so. But ancient artifacts belong in museums, to the descendants of those who’d made them. To modern people who can learn from them. They’re our past, evidence of where we’ve come from. They shouldn’t be hidden away by wealthy individuals who can afford to buy them on the black market.” Though she whispered, passion rang in her voice. She really believed this stuff. She had a commitment to something bigger than herself.
 

He’d never had that, personally. Hadn’t had the luxury. But he liked that she had it. Liked that she gave him a piece of her mind, too.

“Sounds lovely on paper,” he said. “But when there’s nothing between a person and the poorhouse, it becomes exceedingly easy to nick something from people who’ve been dead for centuries.”

“There are other ways to survive.”

“Aye, for some. For a Mythean orphan on his own who has the mortal workhouse at his back? Why shouldn’t he use his skills to the best of his advantage? No one else is going to care for him.” The words flowed out on a tidal wave of repressed anger. He blinked in shock.

He’d never shared his past before, not when it was so ugly and unflattering. Though Logan was his only true friend in the world, he hadn’t even shared it with him.
 

“I’m sorry. That’s awful.” Sincerity rang in her voice.

Heat threatened to creep up his neck, an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation. “Aye. But doona pity me. I turned out all right.”
 

His past wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, damn it. His childhood had been shite—an unwanted orphan—but he’d made the best of it. He sharpened his gaze on the alley and tried to ignore her at his back. But even the rising sounds of the lovers couldn’t drown out Fiona’s voice.

“I see your point. I sound like an idealist and a prude. Cultivating and preserving our history is a luxury. Survival is a necessity.” Her voice sharpened, and he worried it would alert the mortals. “But I’ll be watching you in there. I’ve got everything on the line here. I’m totally fucked if this goes wrong.”

Totally fucked.
Gods, the way women talked these days.
 

He liked it. He liked her, and the fact that she told him exactly how she felt, that she didn’t back down and gave as good as she got. True, the fact that she didn’t trust him burned. But why should she? She’d been in his prison cell. He wouldn’t trust him either.
 

She’d given him the knife, though. She might not trust him to ignore his thief’s ways, but she did have faith in him not to kill her. It was a very basic thing, but it warmed his chest. Which was evidence of how low he’d fallen—he was pleased the woman he wanted didn’t think he’d kill her.

“Right, then. No stealing.” Except the book.
 

The moans and rustling of the lovers in the alley cut through his thoughts. His breath tightened in his throat at the images that flashed through his mind. Him and Fiona, in this very corner of the alley. His fists tightened.
Ignore it.
But there was a beast within him that had been caged for far too long.

CHAPTER FOUR

The sounds in the alley were sending streaks of heat through Fiona. Her desperation to find the book had pushed out all other aspects of life. She hadn’t been doing nearly enough of what they were doing.
 

And Ian, who was tense as a wire, was in the same boat. He’d been without sex for nearly a century.
A century
. It almost didn’t sound real. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to imagine what was happening in the alley. What she could be doing.

Her eyes snapped open. That was crazy. She needed to get her mind on the job.

“Ian, we need to—” She snapped her mouth shut when a rustling from the other end of the alley caught her attention. She whipped her head around and peered into the darkness. Ian did the same.

Nothing. The couple at the other end of the alley suddenly quieted. Tension prickled along Fiona’s arms. Was something here with them?

The mortals giggled, then stumbled toward the new noise. Fiona gripped her knife and squinted after them, her skin prickling with awareness.

But the mortals passed unharmed onto the street and went on their way.

Fiona shook away the eerie feeling and followed Ian deeper into the alley. The back door to the museum was made of unmarked steel. The lock at the door, however, was familiar.

“Keep an eye out.” She knelt in front of the door.

“I’ll take care of it.” Ian reached for the little leather pack of tools she’d withdrawn from her coat pocket.

She yanked them away. “I’ve got it. And this is a way newer lock than you’ve ever tried to pick.”

“Natural skill.” The cockiness in his tone made her grit her teeth, but he turned and covered her while she made the lock give up its secrets.

She felt the latch give and stood with a grin. Anticipation sang in her veins. “We’re in.”

Ian turned to her. “Good work, we’ll be—”

A shadow loomed behind Ian, then two arms reached out and picked him up, throwing him into the wall. Fiona stifled a scream as she yanked a knife out of her boot and flung it at the hulking figure. Shadow hid its features, but its bellow was unmistakable. Her knife had found its mark.

She didn’t have time to spare a glance for Ian as she yanked the other knife free of her boot. Before she could throw it, the figure was upon her, knocking the blade from her fist and wrapping meaty hands around her neck.
 

She gasped and kicked as he hoisted her into the air. She caught sight of an eerie face—snub nose, slitted eyes, and long fangs—and kicked harder. Her throat throbbed and she clawed at the demon’s hands. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. Shite, she was going to pass out. She didn’t know what kind of demon he was, but she’d be dead in seconds if she fell unconscious.

Suddenly, the hands released her and she hit the ground hard, toppling to her arse. At her feet, Ian was wailing on the demon, his fists a blur as he beat her attacker’s face.

Ian plucked the blade from his pocket and raised it.

“Doona!” Fiona reached out for him. “We need to—”

The blade sliced down, straight through the attacker’s neck. Ian put such force behind the cut that he severed the throat to the spine. Another hard hack and the spine was gone too.

She collapsed back onto her butt. “Shite.”

Ian dropped the now-dead demon and knelt at her side. Rage and worry fought in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

She coughed. “Fine, but we needed to find out where he came from!”

Ian scowled. “Bloody bastard was going to snap your neck.”

“I was fine!” She hadn’t been, but she was so peeved she didn’t care.

“Really?” Concern radiated from him despite his glare.
 

Something twitched in her chest. She had a protector. She’d never had one of those before. It was problematic, considering that they needed to know who the demon worked for, but it was quite nice, really. Annoying. But nice.

“I’m fine.” She glanced at the demon. He’d begun to steam. “Move it, I need a picture.”

She crawled away from Ian and yanked out her phone to take a quick picture of the demon’s sublimating face. Eventually, he’d reappear in the hell from which he came.

“What the hell was that for?” Ian asked.

She turned to snap at him, but shut her mouth when police sirens rang through the night.
 

“Damn it! The alarm.” She grabbed Ian’s hand and pulled. “We need to get out of here. The demon distracted me before I could stop the museum’s alarm system. It alerted the police.”

“Fuck.” Ian surged to his feet.

Fiona reached for the door and locked it, then pushed it closed. Mortals didn’t have her prints on file, so she paid no mind to shielding her hands.

She jumped over the remains of the demon, who’d almost entirely disappeared, and ran down the alley with Ian. They reached the main street.

Thank gods, no police yet.
 

“Wrap your arm around my shoulder,” she said. “And pretend you’re pissed.”

He did as she said, and they stumbled off down the street as if they’d just been to the pub. Fortunately, there were so many around here that it wouldn’t look strange. They were slipping into the doorway of the building that housed their flat when the first police car pulled to a stop in front of the museum.
 

“Damn it, Ian,” she said as they climbed the stairs to the flat. “We needed to find out who that demon worked for. Logan will no’ tell us, but I want to know which god is after the book. Why’d you have to kill him?”

“You expect me no' to kill him after I watch him try to strangle the life from you?” The residual violence in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was weird, but she kind of liked it. Though it
had
screwed them.

“I bet that the god who wants the book sent only one demon to get it, because he thought it would be an easy grab job. When that one does no’ show up with the book, he’ll just send more.”

“No’ killing him would no’ have changed that.”

“True. But I wanted to question him.”

“I’ll no’ kill the next one, how about that?”

She scowled. “The police are going to be canvassing the museum all night. They’ll want to make sure no one got in.”

“Then we canna go back in until tomorrow. Though the mortal police will no’ trigger the enchanted exhibits, our presence would. I can navigate around them, but it might no’ be a quiet job.”

“Fine. The god will no’ realize his demon has failed for a while yet, anyway. We’ll go in tomorrow night.” She glanced over to see that one of his fists was clenched while the other was pressed to his ribs. And he was limping. “You’re hurt.”