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Ah, right, the letter.
A table near the center held numerous glass boxes, containing artifacts, small statues and bric-a-brac. Among them was the box that held the letter.
All this I saw from outside the door. I couldn't go any farther, as we didn't know how much of the room the spell covered.
Jeremy took one careful step inside and paused. Both of us strained to hear some indication of a tripped alarm, yet we didn't know what would happen if the alarm was tripped. Lucas had said that depended on the spellcaster, and could be anything from flickering lights to wailing sirens to the room being sucked into a hell portal. I think he was kidding about the last part, but we'd seen enough in the past few years that a room-sucking hell portal really wouldn't come as a surprise.
When nothing happened--nothing obvious, at least--Jeremy padded over to the table. Now came the tricky part.
Jeremy had to start the Change, with particular attention to his hand, then stop at the point where he could fish the glass cutter from the bag around his neck, cut open the box and put the letter in the bag. I was glad Jeremy was the one doing it. While I wouldn't mind the challenge, Jeremy had the most control over his Changes and was most likely to be able to manipulate the glass cutter and letter while still in largely wolf form.
I didn't watch. My comfort level with the dual form may never extend to that in-between Change state. Having accidentally seen werewolves in it, I had no desire to watch it intentionally. I don't consider myself vain, but I don't want to be seen like that, and I assume others feel the same. Well, except maybe Clay, but Clayton's way can never be confused with the norm.
So when Jeremy stopped at the foot of the table, I turned away and stayed turned away until a cold nose pushed against my hand.
"You got it?" I whispered, then saw the rolled paper in the bag around his neck. I grinned, and patted his head. "Good boy."
He nudged me with a "get moving" growl.
Clay met us at the edge of the evergreen patch. After a quick "everyone okay?" snuffle, he dove into the trees to Change back. I untied the bag from around Jeremy's neck, and he loped off to his own spot.
I turned over the bag containing the rolled-up letter and squinted to see words. From my research, I knew what it was supposed to say, but Ripper enthusiast or not, when you get hold of something like this, you want to see it for yourself. But if the bag was opened, it needed to be done carefully. Last thing I needed was to leave my own DNA on it.
I was still trying to read the letter when Clay grabbed me from behind, swung me up and around to face him. A resounding smack of a kiss, and he put me back on the ground.
I looked him up and down. "Don't tell me you misplaced your clothes here."
"Nah, just thought I'd come see you first. Everything went okay then? No complications?" He took the bag and started opening it. "So this is the letter?"
I snatched it back. "Yes, and it's a valuable historical document, so don't touch."
He snorted. "A letter from a fucked-up killer or a fucked-up wannabe. Historically valuable only in that it proves humans were no less screwed up a hundred years ago than they are now."
He plucked the bag from my hand and tossed it to the ground, then put his arms around my waist--or as close as he could get to it. I knew I really should protest the ill-treatment of the valuable historical document but, well, he was naked, and my heart was still tripping from the excitement of the heist.
"So," he said, lips against my ear. "How'd it go?"
"Complication free..."
"Disappointed?"
"I'll live." I put my arms around his neck and leaned in as close as my belly would allow. "I probably had as much excitement as the doctor would allow. How about you?"
"Could have used a couple of good guard dogs. Got all ready for trouble, thinking Xavier would have lied to us about something and then...nothing. Damned disappointing."
"Definitely. All revved up..."
"No place to go." He nipped my ear. "Can't be healthy." His hands slid under the back of my shirt. "Should do something about it."
I twisted my hands in his curls and tilted my face up, lips a hairsbreadth away from his. "Got a cure in mind?"
"Got two. First, the obvious--get the hell out of here, back to our hotel room and lock the door until noon."
"And number two?"
He pulled back. "What? You don't like that one?"
"Didn't say that. But you said you had two ideas, so I'm checking out all the options first."
