“Are you kidding? Of course we believe in luck. You know what they say—better to be lucky than good.”
“Did the necklace work for you down in the Rainforest?”
Gabriel’s brows rose. “The serial killer is awaiting trial and I’m alive, so all available evidence indicates it worked.”
On impulse, she held it out to him. “You can keep it if you like. As you said, it’s not worth much. Just costume jewelry.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She shuddered. “Trust me, I’ll never wear it again.”
“All right, thanks.” He dropped the necklace back into his pack. “If you ever want it back, just let me know.”
“Okay.” In spite of her jumbled emotions, she was touched that he wanted to keep the necklace. She moved to the sofa. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask, what is the missing Arcane relic that was stolen from the museum?”
Gabriel set the holstered mag-rez on the coffee table. “It was described as a large clockwork doll.”
“I assume its value lies in the fact that it’s an artifact from the Old World?”
“Think of it as an action figure—a very dangerous action figure. Lethal, in fact.”
“A deadly doll?”
“It was designed by a clockwork toy maker named Mrs. Bridewell a few centuries ago,” Gabriel said. “Nineteenth century, Old World Date. Apparently it’s actually a carefully disguised weapon.”
“But if it’s an Old World artifact, surely it stopped functioning long ago. Even if the mechanism still worked, which is unlikely after all this time, there wouldn’t be any ammunition.”
“According to the Arcane Society experts, it wasn’t standard Old World technology. It operated on some sort of paranormal power base.”
“Amber?”
“No. There was plenty of amber on the Old World, but there is no evidence that it was ever tapped as a power source. Coal and oil were heavily used during the era in which the doll was produced. Later, solar power and other forms of energy became standard on a large scale, but as far as we know, none of it was based on the principles of paranormal physics.”
“Interesting.” She gestured at the sofa. “There’s a pull-out bed. You can have it.”
“Thanks. Beats sleeping on the floor.”
“We’ll have to move the coffee table. Want to give me a hand?”
“Sure.”
He took one end of the coffee table. She took the other. They lifted it and moved it to one side of the room. Together they pulled out the bed. It was very cozy and intimate, she thought. A frisson of sensual awareness whispered through her. After all the dreams and nightmares, it was a very odd thing to realize he was going to be sleeping in her apartment tonight. Probably a classic case of Be careful what you wish for.
“I’ll get the sheets and a blanket,” she said.
She started down the hall.
“Lucy?”
She turned around, aware that she was suddenly, and for no apparent reason, holding her breath. “Yes?”
“I enjoyed dancing with you tonight,” Gabriel said.
She smiled a little. “All in all, I’d say the evening went well right up until Otis destroyed the engagement cake and those men tried to grab you. But who’s quibbling? It was my first date in two months.”
“It’s been a while for me, too.”
“I’ll get the bedding stuff.”
CHAPTER TEN
Disaster. Again.
Dillon Westover poured himself another glass of good whiskey to calm his rage and frustration. He walked across the vast expanse of the living room, opened the glass doors, and went outside onto the deck. Gripping the railing with one hand, he took a healthy slug of the booze.
He contemplated the glittering Amber Zone spread out before him and the glowing ruins beyond. He had been a fool to rush the job. But the client was really leaning on him. He was in too deep. He had a feeling that if he didn’t salvage the project, he might not survive.
The hastily organized effort tonight had ended in failure, just as his intuition had warned him and just as Tuck had predicted. Taking out a Guild boss was always an extremely high-risk endeavor. The men at the top of the Guilds got to their positions of power because they were strong, dangerous, and ruthless. They had survived just about everything the Underworld could throw at them and managed to navigate the treacherous waters of Guild politics. They were never easy targets.
Arranging for the disappearance of a Guild boss required extensive planning, and above all, it meant making certain there was no evidence left at the scene.