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“That would be a lot easier to do if I had my phone. You confiscated it, remember?”
Right, I had. I pulled it out of my bag. There were a dozen or so missed calls and messages on it. I frowned. Could it be her brother trying to contact her?
“What’s your password?” I asked.
She stuck up her thumb. Oh. One of those.
I turned the screen around so she could use her thumbprint to unlock it.
“Great. You’re going to read my messages? They might be private.”
“They also might be crucial to the investigation,” I said.
They weren’t.
Every single message was from her boss, asking where the hell she was and why the hell hadn’t she called in. Shit. That was my fault. Maybe I could convince a friend from the not-so-secret-anymore Enforcement Agency to say Eva was helping with an official investigation. Or I could call in a favor from a police friend. It would depend on whether her boss was human or monster.
“Your boss is pissed off.”
She huffed. “What’s new?”
“It’s my fault.”
“Yes,” Eva agreed firmly. “Yes, it most certainly is.”
I tossed the phone to her. “Don’t call him yet. I’m going to track the location.”
“You can do that?”
“No, but a friend can.”
As I drove us home, I flipped through the EA’s channels on the radio—something I wasn’t still supposed to have access to, oops—as Eva called her boss to let her know she wouldn’t be in today. From the pissed-off way she shoved her phone into her bag after ending the call, I guessed it didn’t go well.
We went in through the main door this time, rather than the side door which led straight down to the basement. I got Eva settled in the guest room.
“Ooh, so I get to stay above ground this time? Lucky me. I must be your favorite prisoner. And I didn’t even need to do you any special favors.” Her words oozed sarcasm.
I ran a hand through my hair, smoothing back the bits that had come out from the low ponytail I usually kept it in. Now that I’d gotten to know her a little bit, I didn’t want to treat her like a suspect anymore. I also didn’t want her to think of me as the enemy. I liked her sass, and would prefer she sass me in friendlier ways.
“Look, we got off on the wrong foot. Can we start over?” I stuck out my hand. “Hi. I’m Mateo. I’m head of security at the Darlington Museum. I’m looking for a missing artifact. Can you please help me?”
Chapter 5
Eva
I eyed Mateo’s outstretched hand warily. It was a little hard to “start over”, especially since I doubted he would be so nice to me if I decided not to help him, but at least now he was trying. That had to count for something.
I sighed and took his hand, shaking it. It still felt furry and paw-like, despite looking exactly like a human hand. Now that I’d had a chance to really touch it, it was harder for the illusion spell to do its job. If I concentrated and squinted hard enough, I could almost see the fur on his forearm.
I got Sriracha settled in Mateo’s home, setting up some of his favorite toys and his water bowl. I’d even thought to bring his cat bed, which was a basket lined with a cushion and his favorite blanket, but Sriracha ignored it in favor of Mateo’s laundry basket full of clean clothes. Yup, he was already claiming the place as his, leaving his hair everywhere…and as a long-haired cat, there was a lot of it.
Mateo didn’t seem to mind, though, and upon closer inspection, I noticed there were golden cat hairs all over his couch. I bet he had a feline form. He hadn’t mentioned what he was when I remarked that he wasn’t a shifter. Did that mean he didn’t want me to know? What would have a cat’s body but not be able to shift?
There was a sphinx, but I wasn’t sure. Weren’t they all supposed to be female? Mateo was most definitely male. On the other hand, he did technically guard a museum, and sphinxes were usually depicted guarding temples and other important places. He hadn’t asked me a single riddle yet, though. Of course, that could just be a legend, along with the consuming of anyone who gave the wrong answer.
“Ready to go to Desmon’s?” he asked, gesturing to a blank wall.
I frowned, confused. Then I took a quick look in my purse.
