Page 40 of Chasing Eternity

“Well, hello, Shiv,” he says, his voice low and flirtatious as his eyes lock onto mine, twin blue flames blazing dangerously bright. “You’re looking rather…” He lets his gaze wander leisurely down my body, tracing every contour and curve as if it’s a meandering trail meant for him to explore. “Well, I’m just glad to see you’re on the mend.”

On the mend?

My gaze sharpens, then shifts beyond his shoulder to where Arthur sits behind his large, intricately carved wooden desk. Stretching across the ceiling above him is Michelangelo’s iconic work,The Creation of Adam,a masterpiece depicting the biblical tale of the divine breath of life God bestowed upon man.

Of course, in the Gray Wolf Academy version, God is painted wearing a gold ring that’s identical to the one Arthur wears—a modification that strikes me as a glaringly obvious symbol of his own outsized ego and arrogant sense of omnipotence.

“Let me know when you’re back to one hundred percent,” Killian says. “We’ll meet for a drink, or even a meal if you’re up for it. Seems you and I have a lot of catching up to do.” His cheeks spread into a wide, Cheshire Cat grin. “Maybe the Hideaway Tavern?” He cocks his head to the side, his shallow swimming-pool eyes exploring the depths of mine. “I remember how much you enjoyed the shepherd’s pie when I took you there last time. Besides, I’m curious to hear what you’ve been up to since you ditched me in Renaissance Florence. But for now, best not to keep Arthur waiting.”

He pulls the door wider and ushers me inside. As I pass, he leans in, placing a hand on my arm, his lips lightly brushing the curve of my ear. “And by the way,” he whispers, so only I can hear, “I didn’t breathe a word of it to Arthur. I figure it can be our little secret.” He pulls away, his gaze searing into mine. “Or at least for now. Guess we’ll see what transpires from here.”

Even after he releases me and goes his own way, his words linger, sending involuntary shivers through me.

That’s two threats in one day. Well, at least I know who my enemies are.

With my heart slamming in my chest and my breath coming short and fast, I force my legs forward, my rubber-soled sneakers echoing softly against the mother-of-pearl mosaic floor.

“Natasha—splendid. You’re here.” Arthur looks up from his desk, and I’m struck once again by how his actual appearance never corresponds to the picture I carry in my head.

My earliest impression of him, formed by glossy magazine covers, created a larger-than-life image in my mind that reality quickly corrects. In person, he’s average in height, with the slim, athletic build of a long-distance runner. His hair is dark; his features strike a delicate balance between blunt and refined. His clothes skew toward the understated luxury of high-end cashmere sweaters, dark tailored jeans, and a recent fondness for Gucci loafers.

To the casual observer, he easily blends into the backdrop of affluent anonymity—just another wealthy white male who’s carefully curated himself to personify the look of success.

Yet his eyes quickly disrupt that illusion—they’re deep, fathomless, and as complex as a shard of fractured obsidian.

Pushing a pile of papers aside, he motions for me to take the seat opposite him. “Killian tells me you had quite an eventful Trip.” He pauses, scrutinizing my expression.

Remembering Braxton’s advice, I give only the slightest of nods in response.

“Though I must say,” Arthur goes on, “Killian was right, you don’t quite look like yourself—are you still feeling unwell?”

I hesitate.Did Killian actually cover for me by telling Arthur I’m sick? And does that mean I’m now indebted to him?

“I’m, uh…pretty exhausted,” I say, knowing it’s better to stick with some semblance of the truth than to make up an outright lie. “Nothing serious, though,” I add, hoping he won’t insist on a visit to Medical. “I think I’m just a little run-down.”

Arthur’s penetrating gaze conducts a thorough study of my face. “Well, make sure you get plenty of rest this afternoon,” he says. “I have another Trip planned for you soon.”

I nod politely, though the truth is, I’m not exactly thrilled by the news. Every Trip he sends me on brings him closer to achieving his dream of restoring the Antikythera Mechanism and controlling time so he can remake the world.

And while I could purposely fail to bring him the Get, I’m not sure how long he’d allow me to get away with that. I desperately need to come up with a plan to stop him, but right now, I’m fresh out of ideas. Luckily, time is on my side. There’s still plenty more pieces left for me to collect before he can come close to meeting his goal.

“But before we get into all that,” he continues, “I hear you have something for me?”

He shifts forward in his seat, elbows gliding across the polished surface of his desk. As I place the small silver sphere before him, he draws in a quick breath, eyes sparking with intensity.

“The Moon,” he says, almost to himself. Fingers deftly rotating the shimmering orb, he seems captivated, lost in its allure. I use the moment to survey the room, which Arthur once referred to as theinner sanctum.

Like the rest of Gray Wolf, there’s an undeniable opulence to this space. From the roaring fire crackling in the massive marble fireplace to the cabinet displaying a timeworn manuscript of Marcus Aurelius’sMeditations,Arthur’s favorite collection of essays. My attention then drifts to the majestic tapestry adorning the far wall—a piece I’m pretty sure once belonged to King Henry the Eighth.

“And where exactly did you find it?” Arthur asks, his gaze returning to me.

“Well…” I begin, then briefly relay how I deciphered the hidden clues in Leonardo da Vinci’sSalvator Mundi, which ultimately guided me to the Baptistery, where I found it tucked inside an ancient reliquary of Saint John the Baptist’s index finger.

“Extraordinary,” Arthur says, his unreadable gaze taking me in.

I offer a humble shrug, though inwardly, I’m swelling with pride. Locating that piece was no easy feat. Especially since one of the clues he’d given me was completely misleading, forcing me to come up with an entirely new approach on the fly.

Yet despite the satisfaction of my achievement, I can’t help but wish it served a more useful purpose, rather than steering us toward the end of time as we know it.

---