A.K.A. Goddess (25 page)

She tsk-tsked at my fury, taking another step back. “Should I report this harassment to the police, and you told them some similar story, would they not ask where you found such an item?”

Rhys’s hands closed on my waist now, trying to pull me back from the bars. I wouldn’t budge. He said, “You know full well, Dr. Dauvergne, that we rescued it from Fontevrault.”

“Ah, yes,” she said. “The abbey that was so badly vandalized. I’m surprised you wish to be connected to that.”

Only then did I let go, strength slowly seeping from me. I let Rhys pull me back. He wrapped his arms around me, but I wasn’t going to lunge again. I didn’t have the heart.

Because goddess help me, she was right.

Who would believe our story against hers? Assuming the authorities would check inside for the grail—and I wondered if it would get that far—would they believe us? A Welsh laicized priest and an American post doc—me—carried less clout than the curator of one of the most respected museums in the world. Even Aunt Bridge was in her eighties. And she hadn’t been at Fontevrault.

We’d walked right into Cat’s trap.

Actually, no. We hadn’t done anything. I’d done this. I’d lost the grail. I’d trusted the wrong person…in part, I was afraid, because she’d been a woman.

She was at fault. But I’d sure as hell helped.

Aunt Bridge said, “Catrina, why are you doing this?”

“But I have done nothing at all, Dr. Taillefer. Although, if I had,” Cat conceded, “it might be to dissuade vandals who go about raiding medieval sanctuaries from playing archeologist. That room beneath Fontevrault’s chapel could have been the find of the century! Instead, it is mere ashes and stone fragments.”

“That wasn’t us,” I protested. “That was the Comitatus!”

“A secret society,” she challenged.

It wasn’t the most credible story, true or not.

“That was the work of the men who are after the Melusine Chalice,” I managed to ground out. My hatred had to be secondary. Protecting the grail had to come first. “The men we warned you might try to destroy it. They may still come after it.”

“So you were only an innocent bystander at Fontevrault?”

I tensed, partly from guilt and, more, from a second wind of fury. Rhys’s arms, still around me, tensed in response.

Compromise, good, I warned myself. Rock-throwing, bad.

“At least tell us you can keep the grail safe,” I said. “This isn’t about credit for us. Say you’ll put it on display, like you promised, so other women can experience it.”

“I am afraid that would be difficult,” said Cat. “To feature an artifact in the Cluny, we would need far more than your notes and snapshots as evidence of its authenticity. Assuming such an item even existed outside this conversation.”

I took a shuddering breath. “What’s going to happen to it?”

Cat studied me, like some kind of specimen. “Do not worry, strange woman whom I’ve never met before. Private buyers snap up unique pieces with far less authentication. Their collections are generally quite safe. Now, if you will excuse me—”

“You bitch!” Now Rhys did have to hang on to me, because I was going through those bars, or over, or under—whatever it took to get at Dr. Dauvergne and vent some fury.

She vanished from sight, heading back toward the offices—but I heard her call, “Paul? Shut the doors. If they are not gone in five minutes, let’s do call the police.”

While I struggled, my head connected with Rhys’s face, and he made an oof sound. Oh. The face that had taken a beating because of me and my personal grail quest.

I fell still in his arms, panting and guilt-ridden. Nooo.

He leaned closer to my ear. “Maggi,” he murmured, low and steady and Welsh. “It’s over.”

Even with my head hanging, I wouldn’t take that. “No!”

“What do you suggest we do—break into the Cluny, this time? We don’t even know if the chalice will still be there, and we do know that she will be watching for us.”

The heavy wood door swung shut. I barely got my arms out of the way in time as they set in, flush against the iron bars.

I couldn’t give up yet, damn it. “Then we stake the place out, watch everyone who leaves.”

“They get quite a few visitors,” warned Rhys. “All she needs to do is wait for the museum to open tomorrow.”

“Then…then we break into her place and take something that’s precious to her, to force a trade.”

He turned me, held me at arm’s reach. “You can’t mean it.”

“Even an ice queen like that has to care about something. Her grandmother’s pearls. Her photo albums. Her cat.”

“This isn’t you, Maggi!” Rhys was right.

Damn it. I didn’t want to become the Comitatus. But…

“But she’s wrong,” I said weakly. “And we’re right.”

Someone moaned, and we both turned to Aunt Bridge. She looked so small and pained, leaning against the wall.

“Brigitte!” Rhys immediately went to her, looped an arm around her. She shouldn’t have been standing this long, not so soon after her release from the hospital.

“Let’s get you back to the car, Aunt Bridge,” I said, catching her hand. “Sergio can drive you home.”

Aunt Bridge shook her head. “I thought we could trust her.”

“We all did,” I said. “This isn’t your fault.”

“She was such a good student.” Her student.

“I know.” I swallowed back misery. “People can fool you.”

“Now that beautiful cup…” And Aunt Brigitte began to cry.

If I hadn’t been struggling to stay strong, I might have cried, too. How long had our family passed along the rhyme about Melusine? I imagined centuries of babies in their mothers’ arms. Bedtime stories to little girls. Quiet words over sewing or cleaning or cooking. All of it in order to protect one magical grail….

Only to have me dig it up and give it away.

Bad enough that Aunt Bridge had been physically attacked last week. Now her heritage was being decimated, as well.

“I’ll get it back,” I said grimly. “I promise.”

From the other side of Bridge, Rhys said, “Maggi, leave it be. You will not break into the woman’s house. You will not threaten her or her cat. You are out of options.”

But I wasn’t out of options. I had one more wild card to play, one that only an hour ago would never have borne consideration. Not in a million years.

But that had been before I made my aunt cry.

I said slowly, reluctantly, “I know somebody who has dealt with stolen antiquities before.”

The line rang only once. Then, “This is Lex. I’m unavailable. Please leave a message.” Beep.

I quickly stabbed the disconnect button.

Across my hotel room, where he sat by the nighttime window for moral support, Rhys looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Either he’s busy or he isn’t taking my calls.”

He shrugged. “Good.”

“Not good. I have to do this.” But I looked at my phone the way Cleopatra probably looked at a certain asp.

“Not with him, you don’t.”

“Do you have any other ideas for getting the grail back?”

“Yes.” I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Rhys this adamant. “Don’t get it back. Not at this price.”

“Would you say the same thing if it were your grail that had been stolen? Your cup-of-Christ Holy Grail?”

He scowled. “I might, after seeing you cry over him.”

Oh. I went to the chair across from his and sat, squeezed his hand in silent thanks. He squeezed it back, looking sad. This hadn’t been a good night.

But I still wasn’t giving up. “Well, there’s the problem. What little you know about Lex Stuart is what I told you last night, while I was brokenhearted and crying like a baby.”

“And you’re quite over him today?”

I sincerely doubted it. But…“This is for the grail. And Aunt Bridge. And women I don’t even know.”

Rhys did not look convinced. “You said he was Comitatus. They want the grail, too.”

“Good point.” And it was. But…he was also Lex.

“The thing is,” I added, slowly, “despite his faults—his many faults—Lex has some consistencies. And one thing that’s been consistent since we met is, there’s very little he has ever denied me, if I just asked. Even when his family disapproved. I’ve always been the one denying me, especially when it came to his money or connections. So even if the Comitatus is like a family to him, there’s still the slightest chance…”

“It sounds like a deal with the devil to me.”

To me, it sounded like years of therapy in the making. As soon as I’d convinced myself that I didn’t really know this new, secret-keeping Lex, I was now hoping I did. But I was desperate.

“What are the chances that the Comitatus won’t learn the grail was stolen, won’t get it off the black market?” I asked. “And what are our chances of finding out where and when it will be sold without the help of someone who’s done this before?”

“Low,” said Rhys, “but what good would that knowledge do? You can’t steal the chalice from professional art thieves.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Fontevrault pretty much proved my limitations in that area.

“And you can’t afford to buy it, even if you did find it.”

“I’ve called my cousin Lilith, and she’s already raising money. Her mother does that professionally, you know, and she’s a Grail Keeper, too. If we include our combined retirement money, and everything else we can get…” I didn’t like this part. I feared my aunt would mortgage her home rather than let me lose the grail, which scared me. But it was her grail, too.

“And it will involve you with that man. Again.” Which I suspected was Rhys’s main argument.

“Not the way that sounds. I know not to trust him now. I’ll be on my guard.” Assuming I went through with this.

I looked at the phone. I thought of Aunt Bridge, and my cousin. I thought of my dead grandmother, and her dead grandmother, and hers—all the way back to Julie Sophie Charlotte de Pardaillan d’Antin, an abbess barely escaping her abbey ahead of the mob, perhaps creating the rhyme that would help future women someday find their sacred relic.

I thought of the daughters I might someday have, with no grail to keep. And I pressed Redial.

Rhys sighed.

One ring. “This is Lex. I’m unavailable. Please leave a message.” Beep.

“Um, hi. This is Magdalene. I…sort of…need a favor.”

I disconnected. Quickly. Then I looked solemnly up at Rhys.

It was done. And—

I jumped when the phone rang in my hand, that quick. I knew the number on its caller ID and so answered, “Hello, Lex.”

“You have got to be joking.” Why did his rich voice have to sound like such a homecoming, even now?

Rhys was right. This was a bad idea.

But the grail was even more important.

“No. I’m not joking. I need a favor.”

Lex hesitated, then asked, low, “Is someone sick, Mag? Someone having legal problems? Your family’s all right?”

“My family’s fine.”

“Then no.” And the line disconnected.

No? He’d just said no to me? And hung up?

Rhys watched, curious, as I hit Redial.

“No,” Lex repeated, picking up on the first ring.

“You owe me.”

“For what?”

For breaking my heart. For keeping secrets. “For planting that damned bug in my apartment.”

“I know you, Mag. You won’t forget something like that for a mere favor.”

“Of course I won’t. But you still owe me for it.”

“So I owe you. According to you, I’m one of the bad guys.”

“If you belong to the bad-guy club and pay bad-guy dues and attend the bad-guy meetings, it’s not that big a leap.”

“Bad guys rarely do favors.”

“Except in case of health or legal problems. Yeah, you’re a real hard-ass.”

There was a pause. Then Lex said, with careful evenness, “I’m a little confused about which side I’m arguing, here, but I’m clear about what we both said yesterday. I’m not willing to do that again. Not to either one of us. Frankly, it surprises me that you don’t feel the same way.”

“I’m prioritizing.”

“You said you hated me.”

I swallowed. Hard. “I’m desperate.”

For a long moment the line was silent. I heard him murmur something in the background. Then he was back. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll tell you if I’m willing to help.”

Okay. This was it. The grail’s last chance. “You know that item I came to France for?”

“Yes,” said Lex, slowly. Warily. “I said I did.”

“I found it. It’s been stolen. And I need to get it back.”

Silence.

“Lex?”

“You found it?”

“Had it with me the whole time.” It was under the bed. But taunting him wouldn’t get me what I wanted. “Now someone stole it, and she said she’s selling it to a private collector. I need to know how that works, and what I can do.”

“You found it.” He seemed stuck on that part. Only after a long moment did he then say, “You have so got to be joking.”

I think he meant about my request for help, not about me finding the cup, but who can tell? “I’m not joking.”

I heard him take a deep breath. “Here’s the deal. I’m in England for a couple of days, and I’m very busy, but there’s a party Thursday night where we can talk further. Meet me there.”

“In England?”

“In Kent. The FitzGeoffrey estate, outside Canterbury. I’ll courier an invitation via your aunt Bridge. You’ll need it to get onto the estate. If you want my help, be there.”

“I don’t want you sending anything to Aunt Bridge.”

“I am not going to send a mail bomb to your aunt.”

“Why can’t you just call me back?”

“Because I don’t want to make this easy for you!”

My mouth fell open before Lex said, more quietly, “Also because I may need more information from you, things you shouldn’t be saying over the phone. All right?”

And if he was really going to help, despite the Comitatus’s clear desire to keep the grail away from me, heaven knew there were things he shouldn’t be saying over the phone, either.

If he was really going to help me. If this wasn’t some sort of a trap.

I thought of my grandmothers and my daughters—and all the women who deserved to experience the Melusine Chalice.

I said, “How formal is the dress?”

I hate the society parties Lex insists on attending. I’m twenty-one. Why would I want to spend my night with stiff old powermongers who talk politics and business and ogle me as if they hope I’m for sale? Lex’s family is no better, with his mother gone. His father rarely notices him, and his cousin…!