Page 6 of Chaos and Crowns

Antony’s contemplation broke after a moment, and he began unwinding the silver cloak-like garment from his shoulders. His arms were bare underneath, and a tattoo of olive branches encircled one of his biceps. The sight of the olive leaves pulled at a loose string in Odelle’s mind. She had seen a similar pattern on something else recently.

“Antony, the Shadows were going after the Eteria weapons at the museum for a while, right?”

Antony paused and looked up from where he was untying the silver cord that served as a belt.

“Yes, they were drawn to the power of the Light they possess. They probably hoped they could corrupt them to serve the Shadow’s purposes.”

“So would they be drawn to all Eteria artifacts?” Odelle pressed on.

“Not all of them. They wouldn’t be attracted to my clothes, for example. A weapon or object that was imbued with any amount of Light though—yes, they would be attracted to that.”

Odelle tapped her fingers on the counter in thought.

“Maybe the Shadows are after a new artifact.”

“Then why would they target a political fundraiser?” Antony tilted his head in puzzlement.

“See, I ran into a woman who was wearing this beautiful crown. When I asked her about it, she said it was a Greek antique, recently excavated. I should have asked her more, but that’s when I noticed the Shadow.”

Antony stood as still as a statue, either not realizing or not caring that he was currently halfway undressed. Odelle spun away, looking determinedly out the window over her sink.

“What did it look like, this crown?”

Odelle pursed her lips. The tiara was so striking that it wasn’t hard to picture. “It was shaped like two olive branches, meeting in the front to form a peak. It looked like bronze. Very delicate, but in excellent condition.”

Thankfully, the rustling of fabric indicated that Antony had resumed dressing as he responded.

“That very well could be an Eteria artifact, but that doesn’t mean it’s imbued with any Light. I could tell if I got a closer look at it. Who was the woman who wore it?”

“I don’t know. I was distracted by the Shadow, and honestly, I didn’t want to know her better. She was incredibly rude.” Odelle shot a glance over her shoulder at another person who had been incredibly rude to her and found that he was dressed. The gray sweatshirt was too big on him and threatened to slip off one shoulder, revealing a generous triangle of bare chest. Freckles dusted his skin there too.

“Well, maybe we can find out,” Antony suggested, pulling her gaze back to his face.

“We could try to track the purchase of the crown,” Odelle voiced her thought out loud. “If it is Eteria, it very well could have been excavated in the same dig as Adam’s sword and Nora’s spear. If we could find a list of artifacts from that, see if any went to private collectors, that might be a good start.”

“And where would we find a list like that?”

Odelle chewed the inside of her cheek. Nora would know more about the archeological expedition in Greece. After all, she had restored several weapons from the dig in her work at the Field Museum, and the weapons had led to her discovery of the Eteria. If Odelle called Nora to ask her about it though, Nora would pry the truth about the Shadow from her and come crashing home to save the day.

“I think I have the name of the lead archeologist on the dig from when I covered the gala at the museum. I may even have their contact information, although it would all be on my desktop at work.”

Antony still stood in front of the fridge holding his purple garb bundled in his arms, clearly unsure what to do with it. Leaving him here alone among her things felt like an invasion of privacy. Giving him the chance to see the pile of dirty underwear on her desk chair and the leftover Hawaiian pizza in the fridge felt like handing him ammunition with which to judge her. To prove that he was right for rejecting her advances. Still, she needed a break from those big eyes.

Odelle marched around the kitchen island into the living room, grabbing the remote off the coffee table. She handed it to Antony.

“This controls the TV over there. Watch whatever you want to entertain yourself while I run into the office to grab the information we need. I’ll be back soon.”

Antony looked as though he might protest, but any argument he may have had vanished when she pressed the power button on the remote for him. He curiously pressed a few buttons and gasped in delight when the picture on the TV changed. In a few short strides, he was across the room, kneeling before the entertainment center and inspecting the television from all sides. He gently ran his fingers over the black frame and hummed in approval, as if he could feel the electricity working beneath the surface.

“Just don’t take it apart while I’m gone,” Odelle remarked as she grabbed her purse.

“So does that mean I can take it apart once you’re back?” Antony asked.

Odelle sighed, about to explain that wasn’t quite what she meant when Antony shot a crooked smile over his shoulder. She smiled despite herself, but quickly schooled her expression into one of mild exasperation. He wasn’t allowed to joke around with her so effortlessly. Before Antony could make any more wisecracks, she headed out the door, leaving him to marvel at modern technology.

The office hummed with activity, as it usually did, even on weekends. The pressures of the twenty-four-hour news cycle kept the channel operating at a breakneck pace. Somehow, the hustle and bustle of assistants pushing past with paper carriers of coffee and the clacking of keyboards relieved some of Odelle’s tension. Magical crowns and failed romantic liaisons with immortal sorcerers may have put her out of her depth, but reporting was different. She stood taller as she pushed through the bullpen towards her desk. Odelle’s buoyed mood deflated as Ernie spotted her and moved to intercept her.

“Coming in on your day off, and after covering the fundraiser last night? You really are burning the candle at both ends.” Ernie patted her shoulder in a way that was probably meant to be amiable, but she struggled against the urge to shrug him off.