Page 33 of Villains Never Die

j-aust13

Care to elaborate?

No message came through on their end, not for days, and in contrast to the excitement I felt reading OriginOfMagic’s documents, veilknight’s messages left me frustrated, even if what they were saying was probably a load of bollocks.

The one who sent the documents from Prague turned out to be a magician named Damek Bartos, a well-known and wealthy collector of art and magical objects, but based on the inventory he sent me, I didn’t think anyone knew quite how deep his collection or his research went. The point was, he was a real person with a paper trail long enough for me to investigate him before I agreed to pay him a million dollars. His identity checked out.

The inventory was a museum’s worth of stuff. Half-decoded death rituals. Mirrors and tarot cards said to have predicted deaths. Carvings that predated the Egyptians depicting interactions with Death herself. And more important than any of it:books. Seven hundred volumes, all the titles typed in neat columns on papers spread across my desk.

With the inventory, he sent photos of some of the more interesting pieces, with explanations of their significance. He also sent the first twenty pages of his unpublished book—a lifetime of research on death and the afterlife. Those twenty pages alone were more than I had gathered in the last year.

It was more than would ever fit in my penthouse, and my warehouse was filled with pieces meant for my own transactions. I would need a secondary warehouse for all of this.

Gray walked in early one morning after I had been up all night sifting through everything. I must have looked like a madman—hair disheveled, clothes rumpled, stubble along my jaw, and bags under my eyes so heavy I could sense them without a mirror.

“What’s got you looking like shit at six in the morning?” he asked.

I could only give Gray half-truths in this matter. He might have been the person closest to me, and he assumed I had an interest in subjects related to death. I could never tell him the truth, not my work or my goal.

“I need you to scout out a second warehouse, then I want it altered to make it safe for museum quality pieces—better conditions than the first one, even—temperature controlled, no risk of faulty plumbing or weather damage. It has to be perfect. Do it quietly.”

He snorted. “I do everything quietly. Also, good morning to you too. Why don’t you take a day off?”

“Too busy,” I said. Between the usual work and this development with Project Mori, and thinking about…no, not thinking about. I had enough to deal with. I didn’t need to be entertaining thoughts of Rook. Whatever little spat we had going before, it was over now. I could relax.

But not sleep.

Not rest.

“You’re different lately,” Gray said, interrupting my thoughts.

I leaned back in my chair and tried to read him, but while my stoicism was an act, I thought Gray might have come out of his mother’s womb with no facial expression.

“How so?”

“More restless, and you barely eat. I know you never sleep, so I won’t give you shit about that, but you don’t seem like yourself.”

I paused, so many words on the tip of my tongue. It wasn’t the first time I’d considered unburdening myself to Gray. If there was anyone I could trust, it might be him, but five years of climbing to the top had taught me that no one was ever truly trustworthy, so I carried the weight of my goals on my own.

“Bartos,” I said, ignoring his observations entirely. “Wire him the money. I want to get this transaction started as quickly as possible.”

Gray studied me a moment longer, then turned to leave. He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder. “If you ever need to talk…”

I nodded, but I wasn’t looking at him anymore. I was staring at the papers on my desk as if they were more interesting than imagining I had something close to a friend.

Chapter Thirteen

Setting my working relationship with Bartos in motion was the smoothest thing that happened that morning. The rest of the day was uncontrolled chaos, so when I threw myself at my bed that night, I had no intention of getting out of it again.

I turned on my side in the light of a bedside lamp and a bit of gold caught my eye. The corner of my pillow stuck out from the pillowcase, and a piece of glitter nestled in the seam.

Weeks, and I was still finding these things throughout the penthouse.

I swiped it up on my fingertip and examined it. Light glinted off it as I turned it back and forth.

You should call him.

She’s right.