My fingers tightened around the jewel. Disappearing in some trafficker’s organization was not in the cards for me. Get in, get my mom, and get out. That was the plan.
Ruth led me into a large room with dark mahogany furniture. A huge wraparound desk took up half the space, with cracked leather chairs across from it. Shaded floor to ceiling windows overlooked the city and Lake Michigan bay, confirming for the first time that the harpies had transported me all the way to Chicago. I could even spot the top of the Navy Pier Ferris Wheel blinking in the distance.
“And how exactly will I be able to get into this organization when your contact can’t?”
“You will meet with Matt Rue in two days’ time at a bar called the Scarab Lounge. He is a new recruiter for the organization. As the organization only takes supernatural females, you will easily get farther than he ever could.”
“So, you’re saying he kidnaps women like me?”
Ruth pressed her lips into a thin line. “I suppose that would be accurate. Matt owes the HQ this favor. He is reliable.”
Anyone that kidnapped women for a living wasn’t exactly reliable in my book, but it looked like this was my only way in to save my mother. Armed with nothing but a mysterious piece of jewelry and my own powers, it sounded like a gamble and not a planned rescue. But if I didn’t help, I’d always have that little voice in the back of my head wondering if my mother was okay.
“Fine, sounds like a plan,” I told Ruth. “Now, how do I get home?”
Chapter Six
Angel gave me a scorching glare the moment I walked through the museum door. When the HQ dropped me off at my place last night, I found my phone blown up with a million voicemails and texts from Angel, asking me where I was. Since I was too tired to come up with a good lie, I texted her back and told her that Gideon and I had broken up and I took a personal day.
Surely, I was allowed one day. I'd never taken a single sick day since I started working there. She had to give me that.
But, the look on her face this morning told me Angel was suspicious. I couldn't blame her, but there was no way I was going to tell her about my mission with the HQ. She'd insist it was dangerous and insane. Then, she'd probably lock me in my office, and refuse to let me go until I abandoned the plan. For now, it was better that Angel remain in the dark.
"Where have you been?" she hissed.
Mr. Jones was standing in the back of the lobby with a man in a dark suit and shiny Italian loafers. I slid behind the counter with Angel and grabbed yesterday's mail.
"I told you, I took a personal day."
"You don't take personal days." She raised a perfect dark eyebrow at me. "The least you could've done was call me to let me know. Not text me back after work is already over."
I gave a fake sigh. "I know, I'm sorry. The day just got away from me. Wine and chocolate hangover."
"Well, you missed a lot yesterday, and I didn't know what to do without you here..."
"I think you can handle the museum without me for one day," I interrupted.
“It’s not that I can’t handle things,” she began, “it’s just that I tried to call you a million times…”
“I know and I’m sorry, okay? I really didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that.”
“Right.” She cut her hands through the air and gave a frustrated little shake of her head. “That’s not what I meant. Something happened yesterday and you weren’t around for it. Something big.”
I couldn't believe she was giving me a hard time. She was always telling me I needed to take time off, smell the roses or whatever. So what if I missed another fire breathing toad escape or another leprosy outbreak? She could handle it.
“I’m sure you didn’t need me for whatever emergency it was,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t an emergency, per se. It was just that Mr. Jones told me that…”
At that very moment, Mr. Jones and his swanky friend joined us at the counter, and Angel fell silent. While I’d met several of his rich friends who liked to pop in once in a while, this was a new one. He cut a lean figure in his tailored suit and matching blue tie. His strong square jaw was clean-shaven and his light brown hair tousled with some kind of mousse. My guess was that he was mid-thirties and single, by the lack of a wedding ring. Also, the way his dark eyes trailed over every curve of my body seemed to say unattached.
“Aya, I’d like you to meet someone very important.” Mr. Jones swept his giant callused hand to the side, nearly knocking the man in the head. “This is Trent McAllister.”
I nodded at Trent, avoiding too much eye contact. Now wasn’t the time for another one of Mr. Jones’ friends to try and pick me up. The last one was a seventy-year old widower who’d tried to impress me with his town car and Rolex watch.
“Mr. Jones, I need to talk to you about taking some vacation time,” I told him.
Who knew how long I’d be gone with this mission to find my mother. If I didn’t want to give Angel another panic attack, I’d need to come up with a good cover story, like vacation, to get her off my back.