But Fiona lived in the modern age. She took care of herself and had the freedom to choose anyone. Even a criminal. Thank you, women’s liberation.
He shook his head. None of it mattered. As soon as they got to the book, he’d have to use it to force her to free him. She’d lose her job and hate him for it. Then he’d have to flee Scotland so that the university never found him again. There was no future for them.
Hell of a mess.
The blare of a car horn dragged his attention back to the present. They strode down the street in front of the museum, headed for the alley with the side door. Two figures stood at the alley.
“Shite,” Fiona said.
Police. Right at the entrance to the alley, either guarding it because of last night or just running patrol on the popular street since it was a Friday night and the pubs were bursting.
“We’ll have to go through the roof entrance,” Fiona said, and walked past the police officers without a pause in her step.
He nodded. They turned at the next alley and made their way to the back of the museum. It was dark and silent in the back alley, with only dim moonlight illuminating the rain-slicked cobblestones. No pubs back here, so no people.
They reached the rear of the museum, a simpler construction of stone with few windows. A fire escape ladder crept up the side of the three-story building. Fiona walked to a tree in the middle of the small courtyard and broke off a dead branch. She broke it down until it was shaped like a hook.
“Can you give me a boost?” she asked when she returned to his side.
He nodded and lifted her, hoisting her over his head until she stood on his shoulders. For mortals, it would have been a feat of acrobatic strength. For Mytheans, it was nothing. Her legs were firm where he gripped her, trying to steady her as she reached up with her hooked branch and pulled the fire escape ladder down.
Metal screeched against metal. His shoulders tensed. Fiona hopped down and tossed her branch aside. They scaled the ladder quickly and hopped onto the roof. The small building with the door that led to the stairs was only ten yards away.
He was walking toward the end of his time with her, he realized. As soon as he had the book, he’d barter his freedom and be out of the there.
Shite.
CHAPTER NINE
Ian beat Fiona to the door and pushed it open to slip inside. She followed and eased the door shut. Quickly, she pulled a glass vial out of her pocket and unstoppered it. A pale blue mist wafted up from the top, a spell that would disengage the alarm.
Once she was confident that the police wouldn’t be alerted, they crept down the stairs until they reached the door that led out into the exhibits. Ian pressed an ear to the wood to listen for the footsteps of the night guard. She drew the short sword she’d brought, having decided that since the odds of encountering the god’s demons were so high, it’d be better than her daggers.
Eventually, he nodded at Fiona, palmed the dagger she’d given him, and slowly pushed open the door into the darkened room. The red exit light shone down from above, and dim white lights illuminated the long space that was cast in shades of gray. The room was full of ancient pottery. Enormous pots crouched on the floor while tiny vases decorated pedestals.
Ian motioned for her to wait in the doorway and stepped into the room. He walked to the nearest large pot and laid both hands on its round belly. When nothing happened, he turned around and nodded at her.
So that’s how he deactivated the spells. They sensed him. She and Ian made their way through the pottery exhibit and stepped into the next room, a small one that contained eight tables displaying glass art and kaleidoscopes.
The darkness immediately turned to blinding color, geometric shapes spinning through the room in patterns made up of dozens of colors and designs.
“What the hell,” Fiona whispered.
Pinks, purples, blues, and yellows in triangles and diamonds and pentagons shone from every inch of the room. She could no longer locate the artifact displays. They were in a giant kaleidoscope.
Fiona reached out and grasped Ian’s hand. He pulled her until she stood behind him, her chest pressed to his back.
“Follow me exactly,” he said.
Colored lights and shapes flashed before her eyes as she followed Ian. His steps were deliberate, and before long she realized they followed a specific pattern. She tried to put her feet where he’d put his, but suddenly she was stepping on what felt like pebbles. Shards of glass crunched beneath her soles. A second later, she was knee deep in pebbles and glass. The insides of the kaleidoscope were filling up the room.
“Ian!” she hissed.
“This is new. Hurry!”
They pushed their way through the bits of glass, slowing as it reached their chests. Shards cut her exposed hands, burning and turning her grip on her sword slick with blood. It was nearly to her neck. She could drown in this, sucking shards of glass into her lungs.
The glass bits were nearly to their