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“We have two hundred from the gentleman in the back—can I get two-fifty?”
Elyse glanced at Ymaritis, his mismatched eyes bright with arrogance. She was out of her damn mind and she knew it, but still she raised her hand.
“Three hundred,” she called, locking eyes with the auctioneer.
“Three hundred from the lady,” he crooned. “Can I get three-fifty? Three-fifty?”
Neither Ymaritis nor Belledieux made any motion to counter.
“Three hundred going once… Three hundred going twice…”
Elyse held her breath.
“Sold to the lady in blue!”
She couldn’t tell if she felt more ridiculous or excited as Manny pulled her in for a celebratory hug. Jaime patted her shoulder and wished her congratulations, and even Ymaritis and Belledieux gave her approving nods.
“A beautiful jewel for a beautiful lady!” Mr. Grayson declared.
She had no idea what she would do with the necklace—would she wear it? All the time? Or only on special occasions? It didn’t matter, she supposed. At the moment, she was absolutely euphoric.
The auctioneer captured her attention again as he moved toward the second pedestal. “Now, this next item is a pair of gloves that have been worn by Death,” he said as he unlocked the second chest.
The party had gone silent again as they waited impatiently for the reveal. Slowly, the auctioneer tilted back the lid and produced a pair of black leather gloves. They seemed ordinary-looking, but a strange force emanated from them. Everyone glanced around at each other, sizing up who their competition might be.
“Death’s gloves,” the auctioneer stated in a grave tone. “We’ll start the bidding at five hundred thousand gold. Do I have five hundred?”
Mr. Grayson immediately raised a feeble hand.
The auctioneer pointed at him, acknowledging the bid. “I have five hundred, can I get six?”
Royce raised his hand.
“Six hundred thousand, can I get seven?”
“Seven,” Belledieux offered, casually raising his hand.
“Eight!” Mr. Grayson countered.
“Nine,” Jaime called.
Elyse snapped her head toward him, her eyes wide. Don’t, she tried to convey silently. But Jaime didn’t seem to understand.
“One million,” Royce declared.
“One point five!”
“Two million.”
“Three million.”
Even Ymaritis had chimed in now, the bids coming in so quickly that Elyse could hardly keep up with them. Her stomach twisted, frightened for Mr. Grayson. He had worked so tirelessly to be reunited with his late wife, and she hated to see that torn away from him. Every time someone bid, he was right there to counter with a higher offer. Still, how far could he go?
Jaime was the first to back out, much to Elyse’s relief. Had he won, she would have made him hand the gloves right over to Mr. Grayson. She watched with trepidation as the price rose higher and higher.
Finally, it seemed to come down to Belledieux and Mr. Grayson.
“I have thirteen million, can I get fourteen?” the auctioneer called.
