“What do you know about her?”
“Not much. Eastman believes she’s interested in a set of magickal antiquities dating back… well, a long time.” Casey holds my gaze across the desk, and again I feel her scrutinizing me. Testing me.
Shit.I should’ve known my sister already had her fingers in this particular pie.
“The legendary Arcana objects, I presume.” It’s a challenge to keep my tone neutral, but I don’t want to assume my sister knows more than she does. Tricking people into oversharing is one of the things that makes her such a good agent… and a lousy sister. “Janelle wouldn’t be the first treasure hunter to come sniffing around here.”
“You think there’s something to it? The legend, I mean?”
“Which one?”
“The one about the objects being buried on the campuses. Some people say the Dark Magician stuff is real—that he’s due to rise up again and scour the lands for his precious artifacts, killing and plundering as he goes.”
“That is one interpretation, I suppose.” I glance over at my monitor, unable to hold her penetrating gaze. “The problem is, there are dozens of legends related to the Dark Arcana and the objects, most of them long forgotten. We don’t have much in the way of primary source material, so it’s all just speculation at this point. Like any mythology, I suppose.”
Casey rises from her chair and closes the office door, then sits back down again, her eyes blazing with new intensity.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“Kirin.” She leans in close, tapping her finger on the stack of cards still sitting between us. “What if they’re not legends?”
Then you don’t have to worry about it, because chances are? We’re all going to be obliterated.
“Seriously, Case?” I scratch the back of my head and shrug. “What if a fat man in a red suit really flies around the world delivering Christmas presents to all the good little boys and girls?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Look, normally I’m the first person to sign up for an expedition down the myths-and-legends rabbit hole, but you’re an APOA soldier now. You should know better than anyone about the kinds of craziness these legends stir up. Hell, how many Indiana Jones movies and knockoffs have they made by now? Ancient artifacts, creepy legends, magick… It always brings out the treasure hunters, and nine times out of ten, they go home empty-handed.”
“Or cursed.”
“There is that, yes.”
“Magick is real, Kirin. So why not the rest?”
“I’m not saying it’s not possible—I wouldn’t be in this field if I didn’t hold out hope for something like that. But the Arcana artifacts? Come on, Casey. How could something so powerful stay hidden for millennia?”
She levels me with a death-glare. “I don’t know, little brother. Let’s ask King Tut.”
Like I said, dog with a bone.
Tension simmers between us, and I take a deep breath to calm myself. I can’t let her upset me. If she does…
“Why are you guys interested in these legends anyway?” I ask. “Don’t you have bigger concerns, like finding Phaines and figuring out how to keep the rest of the known world from burning us all at the stake?”
Casey continues to glare at me. “Good to see you’re still a stubborn jackass.”
“Good to see you’re still a—”
“Stop.” She holds up her hand, cutting me off. “I didn’t come here to fight. And I gave up trying to make you listen to me years ago. But I’m going to give you a piece of advice, anyway.” She tosses her Tarot card on my desk—The Tower. It’s almost comedic that she thinks the card is about anything other than me—anything other than her own brother, the ticking human time bomb.
“Don’t trust Janelle Kirkpatrick,” she continues. “We don’t know enough about her motives or her background to make any assumptions right now, but she’s a known associate of Phaines, and she’s been involved in shady antiquities deals in the past. Eastman wants us to keep a close eye on her, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Noted. Are we done here?”
Casey jumps out of the chair, jerking her purse strap over her shoulder. “Yeah, Kirin. We’re done. But don’t be surprised if you get a visit from Eastman. I’m sure he’d love to catch up.”
The anger inside me goes from simmer to boil. Behind me, the bookshelf trembles—so slightly I’m sure Casey doesn’t notice. But I do.
