“Have fun.” Esme backs up and pulls a cap over her head. She’s going to get the jewel–she’s done this before.
I never thought I’d have a jewel thief for a friend, but she’s come in handy. I wonder if Ciara helps her with other jobs, too. This is my first time assisting with a heist, but I intend to pull my part off perfectly.
Esme heads off on her own. We wait until she disappears behind the art museum, and then Ciara and I stroll down the wide path through the park. I trot alongside Ciara, letting her camel coat brush against my fur. I let my tongue loll out like I’m a good boy.
When she stops on the path to check her purse, it’s showtime.
I dart past the end of my leash, ripping it from Ciara’s hand. She’s wearing gloves, so it won’t hurt, and this needs to look convincing. Ciara’s supposed to wander around the park, pretending to look for me and then disappear.
Meanwhile, I race through the park and across the road, dodging cars, running like I’m chasing a squirrel. I reach the steps of the museum and tear up them, a wolf on a mission. There’s a man in front of me about to enter the museum. I time things perfectly, so I charge through the door behind him and push him off balance enough to send him and his umbrella flying.
I take a moment to check on the guy I knocked over. He’s red-faced but fine. Just to make sure, I leap onto him and start licking his face.
His mouth opens in a shout as he thrashes and tries to push me off. I’m too heavy.
It gives me a moment to case the space. There’s a metal detector set up in front of me. There’s no line, just three security guards who are whirling around, reacting to the chaos.
Two of them rush over to help pull me off the guy. I wait until they’re almost on me, then whirl, bounding to the gate on the right side of the metal detector. It’s meant to keep humans in, not dogs, so it’s easy enough to leap over it.
And just like that, I’m in. I tear through the museum rooms, startling patrons and knocking over every able-bodied security guard I can find. They’re armed with badges and flashlights, not guns, so it’s perfectly safe. Just good clean fun.
Esme needs about fifteen minutes to get in, get the tiara, and get out. It’s my job to keep all the attention focused on the front of the museum until then. I loop back towards the check-in counter and dive behind the cafe counter, grabbing a croissant as I go. I pause to wolf it down right in front of an entire class of sixth graders who are recording me on their phones. Then my entourage shows up–an assortment of security guards and heroic bystanders who are chasing me. I let them try to corral me, jumping up and down like it’s a game.
Then I make another break for it. I dart behind a group with a crying child and yelling parent, then slip around a corner in a thankfully empty hall, running everyone ragged until I’ve lost them. I manage to reach the first-floor men’s bathroom of the old 1920’s building, where Esme told me she left my clothes.
Esme’s scent is here, faint, on the artsy museum bag that she stashed in the out-of-order stall. I shift to human form, shaking off the tingles, so I can dress quickly. I exit the stall and force open the window, just wide enough for a big dog to leap out of. Then I exit the bathroom with the museum bag slung over my shoulder.
The whole museum smells like human sweat and stress. I keep my features neutral and walk up to a museum attendant obviously on the lookout for a giant dog to come tearing by.
“What’s going on?” I sign while I speak.
The attendant shifts their focus to me, turning to face me fully when they realize that I’m deaf. “A dog got in here. It’s big.” They mime. “Have you seen it?”
I tell them no and take my leave, heading to the museum exit. Every human I pass is on high alert, either looking for a dog or talking excitedly about it and showing their friends footage on their phone. This event will be all over social media, but I bet the museum pulls strings to keep it hushed up in the official news media. Especially once they discover the tiara is missing.
I can’t keep a smirk off my face as I stroll out the front door. It all went perfectly to plan.
I’ll meet Esme tonight at our favorite coffee shop and get the tiara then. At that point, I’ll have to figure out what to do with it. Esme might have some ideas.
One thing’s for sure, the Adalwulfs will have to find another powerful gemstone to power their ceremony.
Aster
I’m seated by the fire in my suite’s sitting room, trying to meditate, when I hear a roll of psychic thunder.
It’s my only warning before the heavy wooden doors burst open, and Aiden storms in, with a wave of power that hits me like a tsunami.
“What did you do?” he growls. His alpha tone makes me want to bare my throat.
I tilt my chin slightly, averting my gaze, but keep my face impassive. Times like these, I remember how Oma used to let the alpha temper roll over her, never cowering. She didn’t react. She was like a weathered stone standing upright and unmoved through a raging storm.
She also never answered a direct question. Instead, she asked her own.
“What has happened?” I ask, keeping my voice low and melodic. I project an aura of calm.
It helps that I was obviously meditating. I’m sitting on a cushion on the floor, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and rosemary, the herbs I threw on the fire to break up the oppressive stuffiness of the room. The Adalwulf’s city mansion is beautiful, full of art and antiques, but needs a good cleaning. I don’t think the windows have been opened since the place was built in the Gilded Age.
With the herbs and velvet pouch of ancient bones in front of me, I look like a Seeress plying my craft, and feel less like an employee caught slacking off by their asshole boss.
