Page 263 of Caelum

Ibramovicz hummed as I revealed the large sapphire cabochon and an emerald choker that glinted like green fire in the harsh overhead lighting. I’d not tried on any of the pieces, even though the little girl in me would have liked to dress up. Would have appreciated such sparkle against my skin, but these jewels were forged in blood, and that would never interest me.

When I pulled out a necklace that Samuel told us could also act as a tiara, which was basically a chain of diamonds with long fronds that, when pinned to a lady’s hair, could stand upright, Ibramovicz hummed again. “Sehr schön,” he whispered, and I marveled yet again at how the words, no matter the language, were ones I easily understood.

His fingers traced over the pieces, and I could see the Euro signs in his eyes as he calculated their worth and tried to ascertain exactly who he might sell these pieces to. His interest was so focused on those items, as we’d intended, that he didn’t even notice the bland signet ring. It was worn at the edges, the symbols faint, smoothed over by time itself. Of course, it was man-made, but we’d spent a fortune on getting this produced and within an eight-day period of time.

Sam’s connections had done us proud. Beneath the worn markings, there were symbols that, according to Bartlett and Avalina, a man like Drekavac would recognize and understand.

As I tapped the ring against the wooden desk, the sound caught the fence’s attention. He stared at it then frowned at me. “What’s that?”

My lips curved. “Hopefully enough to set me up for life.”

That had his frown deepening. “What is it?” The man didn’t like being toyed with.

“From the etchings? I’d say a very important signet ring.”

“How would you know what these etchings mean?” he scoffed.

“A man on my team recognized them. He isJewish. Devout.”

“Devout and a thief? I think not,” he sneered with a snort.

“Aren’t you a thief, Herr Ibramovicz?” I countered sweetly, not appreciating his remark when he was a pious scumbag. “Selling stolen goods to other thieves?” My smile appeared. “We are what we are, and we do what we do. Among our own kind, we shouldn’t judge, should we?”

Though he didn’t reply, I could tell I’d hit a nerve because a muscle pulsed in his smoothly shaven jaw.

“What are these symbols then?” the man eventually asked as he took the ring from my fingers and peered at it through a loupe.

When Samuel had set up this meeting, he’d only mentioned the jewels. Not the signet ring, so I knew the fence’s surprise wasn’t feigned. “My friend is a very intelligent man. He read Theology at Oxford,” I lied. “It is, he says, the Seal of Solomon.”

Ibramovicz frowned at me once more, then he began to laugh. “That thing does not exist.”

I didn’t lose my cool because I wasn’t tense for once, and I’d seen the sparkle of interest, of covetousness, in his eyes. “You’re holding it,” I reassured him. “Why do you think we targeted Wassermann’s bank vault in the first place. Little whispers, Herr Ibramovicz, that we listened to.”

“You mean you heard gossip of this? In all my years, I never heard a whisper,” he retorted scornfully.

Liar,I thought.

Ibramovicz worked for Drekavac and had done since he was a young man. The Original Ghoul had been on the hunt for this for only God knew how long.

“Perhaps you don’t know the people you should. My grandfather was an important man in MI5. He was the one who told me about Wassermann in the first place. Told me that not all Nazi war criminals were punished as they truly deserved.” Ibramovicz squinted at me, his rage evident even as he agreed with my words wholeheartedly. “I began to grow curious about such a man, and when my partner,” I reached up and grabbed the hand Frazer had placed on my shoulder, “indulged me, we discovered the truth. Believe me or not, but that is the Seal of Solomon, and I’m looking for a buyer.”

For a few seconds, he looked at me. The passage of time made me feel like it was endless, though. As though he were reading into me, and at that moment, I just felt so young, like a baby in comparison to this man who had seen, done, and dealt with so much. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the people he met with in his line of work, and how much experience that gave him over us.

The sheer fact he regularly handled Drekavac, an Ancient, was enough to petrify me.

I didn’t care if Frazer and Stefan were Ghoul slayers extraordinaire, that wasn’t much hope against a gun the fence potentially had in one of the drawers in his trashy desk.

“If it’s authenticated,” Ibramovicz began slowly, “then I may have someone interested in buying that particular piece.”

The second those words fell, my heartbeat increased and steadied instantly. I knew that if, by a flash of my expression, I portrayed any relief I felt, he’d smell a rat and all the work we’d gone through would be for naught.

He seemed to stare at me for an age as though testing my resolve, but I tried to remain passive, tried not to look as strung out as I felt.

“We have a meeting with Wilmut Schneefarbe later on,” Frazer stated, his tone cool and calm. “If you can arrange a meet with the buyer beforehand, then you’ll get our business.”

Fury flashed in the other man’s eyes. “Schneefarbe is a money-grabbing?—”

“A lady is present,” Stefan bit off, the words as angry as Ibramovicz’s who instantly flushed.

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