Page 11 of Dead and Gone

I hold out my hand and take his, guiding us along the narrow space between exhibits and to the room with the suspected magical item.

"This is romantic," Rowan teases. "You never hold my hand in public."

"This is decidedly unpublicandI'd rather you didn't trip and break glass with your head." I pause. "You're also fully aware that even though I enjoy your company, I don't like public displays of affection."

He chuckles and squeezes my fingers. "Only you would see handholding as a PDA."

PDA. Ah. So that's what Holly means. Another acronym deciphered.

"I'm happy with the private displays of affection," he whispers.

"Good grief, Rowan. We're in the middle of a heist and you want to discuss our relationship."

Rowan snorts to himself. "If he were here, Grayson would take advantage of the dark more than I would."

"He'd get short shrift too. Now focus."

Having avoided the world and all those living in it for eighteen years, I never imagined inadvertently entangling myself with not one but three guys once I set foot in said world. I'm still working on socially appropriate behavior, and relationships prove a whole other level of confusion and accidental insults.

We reach the room, and I pause in the doorway to examine the keyring. Six keys are attached to the ring, a couple large enough for doors, and the smaller silver ones could fit the cabinet locks. After trying several, I locate the one for the desired cabinet, sliding in the key and pulling the glass to one side.

Instantly, Rowan darts a hand inside and picks up the compass, squeezing it in his palm for a moment before shaking his head and replacing it. As I suspected, the jewelry in the cabinet also yields nothing.

"And the box isn't magical. There must be an item inside." He runs his fingers along the lid. "How does it open?"

I take the box and examine it myself. The object is tightly sealed and has a barely visible keyhole at the front. No key from the bunch we stole will fit that tiny lock, and there's no way I'd fit my fingers between the lid and box to prise it open. Handing the item back to Rowan, I study the cards pinned beside each item.

"If the box was on display when the supe council took magic artifacts, they would've sensed something. There's a new item inside the box."

His brow tugs. "Where from?"

"Andwhat?" I point. "We need to take the box if we can't open it now. And don't look at me like that—our whole purpose for this illegal activity is to locate a magical item." I place the box in a pocket. "Perhaps the curator is hiding more than money, and we're going to discover what."

5

I sitbeside Rowan on the rug in his room, my back resting against Grayson's legs, where he sits on the desk chair. Leif shoves books piled on Rowan's bed aside and plonks himself down. He chews on his lip as he stares at the box on the floor and looks between me and Rowan. "Couldn't you open the box while you were at the museum?"

"Evidently not, otherwise we wouldn't have taken it. Pay attention, Leif."

He blows air into his cheeks and doesn't share any more thoughts.

"We couldn't find a key that fit, Leif," puts in Rowan. "Don't stress, the museum is closed tomorrow. We'll return the box then."

Leif sighs and leans over to take a hold. "Any idea at all what's in here, Rowan?"

"I can only sense memories from whoever owned the item." He takes it back from Leif. "And there aren't many—the box was hardly touched. The origins of the box hold stronger energy."

"What's wrong?" asks Grayson. "You look… odd."

Rowan wrinkles his nose. "The box is made from ivory." A blank look from Grayson. "Ivory. Elephant tusk."

"Grayson. Rowan means he can pick up the elephant's energy," I say and smack the vamp hard on the leg when he laughs. "The elephant died. Therefore, the energy is unpleasant."

"Oh. Right." Grayson rubs his nose. "Uh... RIP elephant?"

"Sometimes, I can spot why you and Violet are such a good match," says Leif. "I mean, apart from the mutual blood lust thing."

"Eloquently put, Leif," I say.

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