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“People of the area pride themselves on their culture, without recognizing where our folk tales and monsters come from.”
I laughed. “I thought we were the monsters and the folk tales. So many of us are.”
He chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Not you, though. There doesn’t seem to be anyone quite like you in the stories.”
I lowered my voice. “You looked for someone like me? A shifter who can’t shift?”
He glanced at me. “Of course, I did. I needed to know who you are and what to expect. The real question is, why haven’t you?”
“Oh.” I shrugged and pretended to study a gorgeous, beaded shawl. “I did when I was younger. But I was in a pack back then. I had everything I needed, and I only cared about looking for ways to initiate the change, not looking for anything else I could be.”
“Well, you’re no shifter.”
I glared at him as we moved past a heavily laden hors d’oeuvres table. “Thanks a lot.”
“That wasn’t a criticism.” He paused and gave me a long look. “Perhaps first, you need to unlearn the belief that being pack is a virtue. Packs aren’t the end all be all.”
“The pack said the Syndicates killed my parents.”
“Maybe, but your parents weren’t pack either, so I don’t know how they’d know that or care.”
I stared at him. “What?”
He grimaced as though it was something he hadn’t meant to let slip out. “It’s a story for another time, when there are fewer people around and you don’t have the distraction of the job you need to do.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
We migrated through the exhibit and toward another table. My brain hummed with the strangely comforting but new information about my parents. At the same time, the artifact pulled me like a bungee cord. Thorn seated me at a dining table and then settled beside me. The tables shimmered in fine midnight blue silk. Elaborate wax candles lit the centerpieces.
The master of ceremonies took the microphone and introduced the evening’s program. Thirty minutes later, about halfway through the guest speakers, Thorn lay his hand on my thigh.
“In the next few minutes when the servers come around again, order a drink, then excuse yourself to the ladies here. Did you bring your tools?”
I nodded automatically, and he tapped his temple.
Yes, I brought tools, but is there an alarm?
Who would put an alarm on stone arrowheads and bead art? The one thing on our side is the tragic undervaluing of the craftsmanship here.
I did as he instructed and stepped away from the table, and almost immediately, panic set in. I scented Kye before I laid eyes on him.
Is he after the artifact? Either way, I can't allow him to grab the artifact. Anxiety to take the artifact quickly seized me, and my stomach turned with the champagne I had less than a half hour before. I hurried toward the ladies' restroom without spotting my ex. I know he's near, but I kept my head down. If I run into him, I'll get flustered and unable to complete my finding.
Because a crowded ballroom is no place to break out the wire cutters and knives, I entered the women's restroom. No wolves followed me in, and I sat my ass down in a stall and retrieved my limited supply of concealed tools.
But the cases are easy enough to open if I can do it without being seen.
What I’d give for actual telekinesis.
I waited for the lights to lower and the MC announcements of the evening’s charity donors to move behind the case nearest the ladies' restroom. Kye's close, but he's still nowhere in sight. Maybe he's here to grease palms and climb social ladders? It's what he was always best at.
The lock on the rear is a typical easy-to-pick retail slide lock. I unlocked it with a flat pin with a near-silent 'snick' and lifted the glass just enough to slide the stone out the back. I took the pillow with it, leaving the display a little unbalanced but not overtly appearing to be missing anything.
The stone lay warm in my palm. I wrapped it in a cotton square I’d brought along for this reason and tucked it into my bra, under my right breast, shivering when it passed over the mark on my chest.
Like recognizes like.
My thoughts wandered momentarily, looking over the rest of the displays with my best-bored expression. The MC finished his spiel, and the lights brightened again, so I chucked my tools into the trashcan in another fabric square. Then I made my way back to Thorn.
