Page 93 of Eternal Surrender

“They still exist in a modest capacity.” Marcus caressed his brow. “Are we missing something?”

Jacob’s eyes softened. “We need to find out what’s poisoning your sister. That’s the issue here.”

“If we can find whoever kidnapped her,” I said, “perhaps that will lead us to the source of the poison.”

“Rachel may tell us more,” Marcus said. “We need to be patient with her.”

I tapped Marcus’s shoulder. “I agree.”

“May I take a look at the names on your list?” Jacob asked.

“Yes,” I said, trying to shake off this feeling that Jacob knew more but was failing to reveal it.

“Anything you can offer us from your days with the Stone Masters?” Marcus asked Jacob. “I know it was centuries ago, but you may remember something that can shed light.”

Jacob paused as though thinking how best to answer.

“Any news from Lucas?” I asked him.

“He’s ready to work on the scrolls as soon as we have them,” Jacob said.

“Tell him to contact me personally,” I said. “No more of this intermediary stuff, Jacob. Understand?”

“I’ll certainly ask him,” Jacob said.

“Can Snowstrom help us with any of this?” I asked.

“I’m meeting with him tomorrow,” Jacob said, “If he has anything for us, I will of course share it.”

“Now that’s a meeting I’d love to sit in on,” said Marcus. “Is Snowstrom really the Oracle everyone says he is?”

“He is,” Jacob admitted. “The only downside, Snowstrom always tells you the truth.”

Chapter Twenty

The Soho Art Gallery was currently closed.

Leiden, New Compton Street’s private art house, was named after Rembrandt’s birthplace. Although appearing rather modest in size, it honored the Victorian architectural tradition of extending back and generously accommodating a vast area of space with its high ceilings and simple lines, making it perfect to showcase paintings. The largest room was tucked away in the anterior and was currently hiding a grand collection of seven freestanding sculptures.

Having removed the last dust sheet, I took a moment to admire the collection, watched on by Alex who sat in the saddle of an enormous, eighteenth-century, bucking bronze horse.

“What was Orpheus planning on doing with this place?” Alex asked.

“Needed extra room for these,” I said, baffled as much as he was.

“So he never intended on this being open to the public?”

I cringed at the audacity of anyone keeping these huge sculptures for themselves, and worse than that, the fact that all the pieces were all so ostentatious.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked softly.

“Let’s open this room too,” I said. “Sell everything.”

“Someone’s come to their senses.” He pointed to the six-foot Buddha head. “If someone pays thousands for that, doesn’t it contradict what it’s meant to represent?”

“Since when were you so philosophical?”

“I mean if someone gets crushed beneath it while moving the thing. . .”