Page 49 of Curses & Keys
As he steps out, her eyes slide from his head to his toes in appreciation, and I want to shake my head at a look I see too often when it comes to him. Dressed all in black, his deep brown hair tamed into sophistication, he is every inch the Elvish royal the supernatural media follows so closely.
Right now, he’s staring down at her with equal appreciation. Turning, he curves his body protectively around hers and places a possessive hand on her back in a statement I haven’t seen him make for any other woman. His green eyes dart to me, and I see the quiet determination in their depths.
I dip my head in acknowledgement of his intentions. For a second, I forgot he was interested in her. Complicates things.
Phaedra’s gaze moves from him to me and back again. “Ready?”
Slipping the gun from my waistband, I scan the buildings around us. “Gryphon. All clear?”
Gatlin confirms. “Clear.”
Mathias’ cool voice interjects. “Clear. Contact has arrived.”
“Is that what you call the team?” she murmurs, her eyes darting around the street.
With a quick motion, I bare my arm and show her the gryphon tattoo.
She glances at my arm, then her eyes flick to my face. She frowns. “I don’t understand.”
My mind reels at those three words. She can’t see the tattoo. The spell was designed with supernaturals in mind. Further confirmation she isn’t one.
“I’ll explain later,” I tell her, silently conversing with Hawthorne. Gatlin’s theory is right. Her gifts likely come from the gods. Hawthorne tightens his arm around her, a clear indication of his thoughts.
Within minutes, we’re at the side entrance to the bank. Henry, Cian’s father, is waiting with security when we enter the building. Stocky, with a full head of red-gold hair, he exudes the pride of the lion shifter that he is. Intelligent amber eyes narrow to assess whether we’re a threat before he makes a subtle motion to the guard beside him.
With a flick of my wrist, I hide the gun and step forward to shake his hand. “Thank you for meeting us. I know it’s unorthodox, but we need to access a safe deposit box in your vault, and we don’t want anyone to be aware of it. We have the key and the required password, but we don’t know the number.”
Speculation crosses Henry’s face, but the brief expression is gone in an instant. He nods. “Follow me.” Heading to a large office in the back, he sits down at an impressive mahogany desk and turns on the computer. “Do you know the name of the owner?”
“Dr. Letz Samuels,” I reply. His eyes widen at the name. As he types in the name, I turn to Phaedra. “Password?”
“SaintPeter1023,” she softly replies with a small sad smile on her face as if there’s something personal about it.
Henry lifts an eyebrow. “Correct. Do you have the key?”
Phaedra steps forward and uncurls her hand. “Yes.”
“Definitely our key,” he confirms as he examines it. “Letz didn’t have a beneficiary on the box but left instructions for access to be given to whoever had the key and password. You have both. Follow me.”
With long strides, he heads out of the office and down a long hallway to a staircase. We quickly make our way to the cold basement, where we’re met with a locked iron gate. Once unlocked, we continue down another hallway until we reach the end, where a large vault door greets us. Dark grey with brass finishes, the old-fashioned steel door is adorned with modern biometric technology. Henry submits to an eye scan and delivers a drop of blood.
The heavy door silently swings open, revealing row after row of gold boxes of various sizes set into the wall. Henry strides over to a small box and inserts a key, then looks at Phaedra.
She moves next to him and inserts Letz’ key into the other keyhole, then waits for Henry’s signal. In unison, they turn the keys, and he swings the door open and extracts the long box from its secure location.
“When you’re finished, press this button,” he says, pointing to the discreet brass button on the wall. “I’ll return.” He strides out of the vault and down the hall.
Phaedra waits until he’s gone before flipping open the lid on the box. Inside is a gold key and a piece of paper. She slips the key into her pocket and unfolds the paper to reveal a handwritten note.
William of Durham has the keys to the kingdom.
Hawthorne tilts his head to the side and peers down at Phaedra, whose eyes are shining with the same knowledge.
“Oxford,” they say in unison, then laugh.
“William…” Hawthorne begins, but I cut him off.
“Not here,” I tell him, closing the lid to the empty box. Walking over to the door, I press the button on the wall.
