By Hook or by Wolf

Maybe that isn’t my call to make, but I promised my client that I would get the jewel and I’m not about to back down.

Frustrated, I look around again. My heartrate monitor blinks. I’m starting to feel agitated. A few deep breaths and it’s back down again. Good. I’m almost done. I feel the edges around the door, but there doesn’t seem to be a hidden catch or level anywhere. How annoying. I look over at the sensor. There are no video cameras around here: only the little alarm that sounds an alarm if someone with a fast heartbeat comes down here.

Obviously, this type of alarm is designed to notify the owners of the jewel when someone with a passion for gems comes around. Normal people get excited when they explore a new place or when they’re looking for treasure. That’s how they get you.

One of the first things I learned when I started thieving was that you need to expect the unexpected. In my case, this means figuring out how the hell to open this damn door. Once more, I touch the sides of the door, but there’s nothing. I run my hands over the stones that surround the red door, but again, I don’t feel anything out of the ordinary.

Strange.

But maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way.

If someone was going to go through the trouble to have a door without a lock or a knob, they’d need to be able to access it quickly and discreetly. They wouldn’t want to waste a lot of time looking for a hidden lever. Is that my problem? I’m overthinking this.

I take a few steps back, but I keep my eyes forward and on the door. What makes the most sense? Where would a lever be? If I was striding down the hallway and wanted to quickly press a button and come into the room, where would that button be? If I didn’t want to break my stride, I’d have the button right about...here.

I reach out, pressing my hand against the wall. The stone I push on moves inward, only slightly, and the door swings open.

“Gotcha,” I mutter, and I walk into the room. A feeling of satisfaction washes over me as I swing my flashlight around the room. I made it. I’m here. The jewel room really is quite wonderful. There are diamonds sitting in display cases that are, once again, covered in dust. A set of jewelry featuring gold, rubies, and emeralds is in another case. In the center of the room, I know what I’m going to find.

It’s the gem.

I step forward. The buyer had described it to me in careful detail and this jewel matches its description quite perfectly. Still, it’s much more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined. It’s sitting not in a case, but in a small jeweled cup in the center of the room. The cup is on a pedestal and there’s actually a light shining down over the jewel. It’s lovely. I reach for the green gem but don’t touch it. If I’m not mistaken, there are slivers of gold and blue in the gem, too. It’s not only green. It’s multi-colored.

And I did it.

I made it all the way here.

I stand in the room and look at all of the treasure around me. The buyer is going to be so damn happy that I finally found the jewel. After all, she said, it was something of a family heirloom. Soon it’ll be back with Emily, the buyer. Soon, the gem will be in its rightful place.

I’m just about to reach for the gem when something catches my eye. A series of pictures are on one wall. They look out of place among the jewelry and precious stones. I’ve got time. I’m already in the room and no one has come here for years. It’s not like I have to grab the gem this instant.

I have some time to take a little detour and explore what other wonders are in this cave.

Moving to the wall, I look at the set of pictures. There are five portraits. Obviously, these are a family. Why are their portraits in this part of the gallery? The pictures are out of place from the rest of the gallery.

Three of the pictures are of young men. Well, they aren’t really young. They’re definitely very, very masculine, though. Each one looks unique, but it’s obvious they’re also related: probably brother

s or cousins. They all have long, dark hair. One of the men has his pulled back in a ponytail, but the others let their hair hang down: long and loose. The next picture is of an old man whose eyes look happy. His smile seems genuine and content. Then there’s the final picture, and when I step closer to look, I gasp at what I see.

It’s my client.

It’s Emily Bright.

Oh, she was younger in this picture, and happier, but it’s definitely her. She’s wearing a necklace and the Gem of Malice is centered in it. The jewel in the picture is exactly the one that’s behind me in the cup, but why is she wearing the jewel? She told me the jewel was stolen by her family decades ago. This picture might be old, but it’s like, five years old: not thirty.

Suddenly, I get the distinct feeling that I’m being watched. My heartrate threatens to start rising, but I take a calming breath, forcibly relax myself, and look around. The jewel is here and the pictures prove that her story was at least partially true. The jewel was in her family.

Only she didn’t tell me that it still is.

A step closer reveals a little plaque beneath the portraits. Engraved, it says, Mr. and Mrs. Claw and sons.

“You sneaky bitch,” I mutter. The name of the company that owns the gallery is Claw and Sons. It’s headed by none other than the late Mrs. Claw, but I’ve never seen her or met her. At least, I didn’t think I had until now. A lot changed about thirty seconds ago when I realized that my client was trying to trick me. Why did she want me to steal the jewel if she obviously already has the gem in her possession?

For fuck’s sake.

I don’t like being tricked. I certainly don’t like being had. I don’t know what kind of alarm system she has on the jewel, but I suddenly realize that there was no chance of me leaving here with it at all. Fine. I’ll take something else: something I know won’t be bugged. I reach for the portraits on the wall and I take them: only the three pictures of the men, though. Her sons. I leave the pictures of Mr. Claw and Mrs. Claw. They can stay down here together and rot for all I care.

Fuck them.