Page 45 of Stroke of Shadows

Titus knew better than to communicate further, but it pained Sythe to watch him walk away. He hoped he wouldn’t be gone for much longer, because he ached to tease his brother about the little redhead that he seemed captivated by.

And maybe discuss his own infatuation with a certain brunette with eyes of starlight.

Chapter 17

Harper

Harper studied the document, the paper so old most of the ink had been absorbed into the fibres. The chalice was roughly drawn in the centre, the origins of the markings celestrial. It was the original, the one Wyatt had given her a poor copy of.

“I’ll have to get back to you regarding the other two pieces,” Mr Jackson said, squinting at the same paper with a magnifying glass. “They currently reside in Washington, but the curator’s a close friend. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Harper felt her shoulders sag, her eyes unable to track the writing. Celestrian was one of the languages she couldn’t learn, the words changing or shifting with every blink. “Thank you again Mr—”

“It’s Carter,” he interrupted, his smile genuine when she looked up. “I’ve already explained I’m happy with a first name basis.”

Harper hoped her returning smile was just as warm. “Carter,” she corrected, knowing she’d go straight back to calling him Mr Jackson at their next interaction. “Do you have anyone on staff that’s able to translate?”

She’d known Mr Jackson for a few years, having first met at the British Museum when she was researching a necklace that Angel wanted to add to his collection. With his help, she’d found the old artefact, and now every time she required help, he was one of the first people she called.

“Not in the building, but we’re working on it. Only a celestrial-born can read and translate, and so far it’s been difficult to find one willing to work with us.”

Harper nodded, returning her attention to the paper. The document was her first real lead, even if she couldn’t read it herself. The Way of Wings was a relatively new exhibit, celebrating celestrial history as well as their influence on humans over the centuries. The entire area was alight with colour, with waxworks displaying various wingspans as well as artefacts directly from Aetherna. It was a beautifully displayed exhibit, and she told him so.

He smiled, looking a little sheepish. “This isn’t actually my area,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “My department’s the Fae side.”

Harper frowned, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I wanted to see you.” His eye contact was direct, even if he seemed a little awkward. “For business reasons, of course,” he quickly added, before clearing his throat. “You’re usually looking at Fae artefacts, so I was curious to see why you’re interested in celestrials?”

“Oh, I’m just researching.” She didn’t add any more, knowing it was frowned upon to obtain such artefacts and relics for personal use. The museum would argue of their historical significance, wanting to display them for the public while her uncle collected them out of spite.

Except for the chalice, which was strangely for Wyatt.

“Hey, are you okay?” Carter brushed the back of his hand across her cheek, the touch delicate and lingering. “You’ve gone pale.”

Harper blinked, not realising she’d spaced out. “Yeah, just got lost in my thoughts. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Carter grinned, and it eased some of her worry. “Actually, I wanted to see if you’d want to go to dinner with me sometime.”

That wasn’t what Harper expected. “Dinner?”

“Or coffee?” The skin around his cheeks darkened. “Maybe just water?”

He was asking her on a date, and she had no idea how to react. “Oh, I’m—”

“Taken,” a familiar voice cut in. “Tough luck, mate.”

Harper jerked her head to the side, spotting Sythe leaning against the exhibit wall like the grim reaper waiting for her untimely death.

“Mr Black,” she greeted, frustration bleeding into her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Something flashed behind his eyes when she said his name, the warm caramel hardening before he turned his attention to Carter. “Who the fuck are you?”

Carter’s usual friendly expression morphed into disdain. “Mr Jackson,” he replied, his tone as stiff as his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but who let you back here? The exhibit isn’t open to the public just yet.”

Sythe immediately dismissed him. “You ready to go, darling? Seems I’m your chauffeur for the day.”

Harper pursed her lips, swallowing the annoyance that bubbled beneath the surface. “You were supposed to wait by the car.” She wasn’t sure why she was so disappointed Angel had gone against his word, but still her body felt heavy.

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