Hexed (17 page)

“What's this one here?” Lucifer asked. It was a painting of an empty stone bench in the middle of a wide clearing, surrounded on all sides by an ominous forest. Most of the vegetation was dark with bare and twisted branches, while bright shafts of light broke through, illuminating the bench.

“That's
The
Empty
Garden
. By De Guerra, I think.”

“Isn't he the one who cut off his ear?”

“No, that was Van Gogh,” David said. “Though, I think De Guerra may have cut himself shaving once.”

Lucifer didn't react to the joke. Instead, she just stared at the painting, taking it in. She was fascinated by the way the rays of light illuminating the bench glowed next to the dark and gloom of the surrounding forest. How an artist could create something so bright using nothing but paint was a magic foreign to even her.

“Is this what you've been looking for?”

“I don't know, maybe,” Lucifer said. “But I will say this. Some of the pieces here shouldn't be on display.”

David shrugged. “I admit, some of the contemporary art is a bit weird,” he said.

“No, nothing like that. I'm talking about that over there.” Lucifer motioned toward a short, rectangular pedestal on the far side of the room. On the pedestal sat a delicate tangle of resin wires that wound itself into the shape of a twirling teardrop three feet high.

“Oh, I like that piece. It's oddly soothing,” David said. “What's wrong with it?”

“Nothing. But the pedestal it's sitting on is the base of a Calling Column. A thing used to summon lesser demons. There should be a summoning disc attached to the top, but thankfully that's been removed. So it's pretty harmless. Still, whoever decided to use it either had no idea what it was and decided to use it because it was pretty or, worse, knew and didn't care. There are a couple of things here in the gallery like that. Nothing really dangerous, but in the wrong hands could be problematic.”

“How can you tell it's a part of this calling thing and not just a normal pedestal?”

“The fluting. There are six separate grooves running parallel on each side of the pedestal. But if you look at the top of the first groove and follow it straight down, you end up at the bottom of the second groove. Go ahead. Try it.”

David tilted his head in mild amusement before turning to look at the pedestal. Soon his amusement turned into confusion. “It has to be a trick of the light.”

“The same thing would happen if you traced it with your finger. It would move across the side of the pedestal like a needle following the grooves of a vinyl record.”

“Then we have to go try it!”

“Absolutely not.” Lucifer grabbed David's arm and pulled him close. “The whole point of all of this is to
not
attract attention.”

“You know, I come to the gallery and all I see are pictures and statues. But you, Lucifer . . .” David shook his head. “The most exciting this gallery gets for me is a place for a third date.”

The only thing Lucifer could think of that would be more exciting than a third date would be a first date. But for David, going on dates, being with friends, studying for class was all part of his everyday existence. Boring. Routine. All the things that made his life amazing and wonderful, he found mundane. Lucifer would take all of that over Calling Columns any day.

Still, part of Lucifer couldn't help but be flattered. She would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the attention David was giving her. She loved how excited the littlest hints of magic seemed to spark a genuine childlike fascination within him. But that was only because he hadn't seen what magic could really do. The horror it could unleash. Yes, his girlfriend had been kidnapped with magic, but he didn't see it, and David had no idea just what a Sister of Witchdown was capable of. If he did, Lucifer had no doubt his excitement would wither and die.

“To be honest, a Calling Column is about as exciting as duct tape. Also, it's not why we're here.”

“Can you show me more?” he asked.

“Not. Why. We're. Here.”

David sighed. “I know, I know. We're on the job.”

Lucifer patted his arm. “C'mon. There's more I need to see.”

The last few exhibits didn't offer anything Lucifer could use either. Lucifer certainly enjoyed the artwork, but she still wasn't able to find quite what she needed.

After moving through the final exhibit, they came to a large antechamber labeled the Swan Room where a small gathering of adults in suits and formal gowns drank from champagne flutes and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres.

“This way,” said Lucifer.

They made their way to the open archway leading into the Swan Room, but a man in a sloppy black suit stepped in front of them and said, “I'm sorry, but this is a private function and closed to the public.”

“We just want to look inside real quick,” Lucifer said as she twirled one of her pigtails.

“I'm afraid that isn't possible,” the man said without bothering to smile. And with that, the conversation was over.

Lucifer and David stepped away as a well-dressed couple sauntered past. Lucifer wanted to get a better look at what was on display but had to make due with surreptitious glances around the growing crowd of people inside.

David put his hand on her shoulder and said, “While you're playing spy, I'm going to the restroom. I'll be right back. You'll still be here?”

“I'll think about it,” she said.

“Just remember, I'm your ride home.”

“You just remember, I'm a thief and I've already stolen your car keys.”

David reflexively put his hand in his pocket to check, visibly relaxing when he felt the familiar tangle of keys.

“You are so easy,” Lucifer smirked. “Hurry up. And don't go messing with that pedestal. Remember. Covert.”

David winked and gave her a mock salute before turning and walking away.

Lucifer stood on her tiptoes but still couldn't get a good view of the pieces inside the Swan Room. She could always investigate the room during the heist, but the more time she spent looking for the right thing to steal, the more likely there would be complications. She wanted to get in, get the piece, and get out. In order to do that, she needed to know exactly what she was coming here for.

“It's much easier to admire the art if you're actually in the same room.”

Lucifer dropped back down to her heels and turned to see a woman standing next to her. The woman was older, perhaps in her early fifties, with short white hair that stopped sharply at her jawline. The woman wore gray slacks with a man's black sport coat tailored to fit her small but athletic frame. It was a stark contrast to the other women Lucifer had seen wearing various styles of dresses.

The ice in the tumbler of brown liquid the woman was holding clinked when she gestured toward the crowd. “Are you familiar with Felino?” the woman asked.

Lucifer didn't want to waste any time getting caught in small talk. “I don't know much about art, really. I'm just here with . . . my date. I should probably go find him.”

As Lucifer started to walk away, the woman said, “Are you sure you don't want to see the Felino Exhibit? She's quite talented.”

Lucifer stopped. That was exactly what she wanted. “It's a private showing. The public isn't allowed,” she said.

The woman took a sip of her drink. “Yes, the professional art community can be right snobs sometimes. C'mon, let's go crash their party.”

“I, uh—” Lucifer tried to say something, but the woman put her arm around her shoulders and guided her to the entrance of the Swan Room. Lucifer definitely wanted to get inside and look around, but she also knew that her typical teenaged girl costume was going to look wildly out of place among the formal attire. That was if this woman could even get her in.

The man in the sloppy suit came forward when he saw Lucifer. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when he saw the woman with her. “Oh, Ms. Brisendine,” he said, nodding his head. “Good afternoon.”

The woman, Ms. Brisendine, politely smiled but said nothing as she ushered Lucifer past the man and into the Swan Room.

“Ms. Brisendine. This is your gallery, isn't it?” Lucifer asked.

The woman smiled down at Lucifer and said, “It is indeed. But please, call me Val. Only people who owe me money have to call me Ms. Brisendine. And you are?”

“Lucifer,” she said and instantly scolded herself for telling her. She had several aliases that she used from time to time since “Lucifer” wasn't exactly a name people forgot. And if she was planning on robbing the gallery, it probably wasn't a very good idea to have given the owner her real name.

“Lucifer,” Val said. “That's such a pretty name for a girl.”

Lucifer was taken aback. No one had ever told her such a thing. It was always some comment about the devil or how much her parents must have hated her. But Val Brisendine thought her name was pretty? Now Lucifer felt guilty. She was still going to rob this woman, but she certainly was going to feel bad about it afterward.

By now, everyone else was staring at them, mostly with smiles but a few with bemusement. Lucifer's discomfort must have been visible on her face since Val said, “Don't let all the fancy dress fool you. Everyone here is harmless.” Val stared at her over the lip of her tumbler, eyeing Lucifer with one eyebrow arched. “Well, almost everyone.”

A man walked by holding a silver tray. Val swallowed the last of her drink and placed her empty glass on the tray. She said, “I'm afraid I have to go play host now. It was very nice meeting you, Lucifer. Feel free to enjoy the exhibit. And if there's anything you need, all you have to do is ask.” Val then turned to an attractive couple politely waiting nearby and shook their hands, losing herself in conversation.

Lucifer looked back through the archway and saw David on the other side, staring at her. She held up a finger then scanned the exhibit as quickly as she could. The patrons seemed more interested in each other than the exhibit, which made it easier for Lucifer to move from painting to painting.

One of the paintings had a small plaque at the base of its frame that read
Night
on
47th
. The painting was an impressionist take on a modern city street. Warm pastels imitating the unnatural lights that illuminated the city with smears of orange and red cast odd shadows against the black slabs meant to represent buildings. Only a few yellow windows occupied the dark rectangles, showing a city barely clinging to consciousness. It was quite beautiful.

And it was exactly what Lucifer needed.

A few minutes later, she met David just outside the Swan Room.

“How did you manage to get in?”

“I met the owner. Or more like, she met me.”

“What about this being a covert operation?”

“Operation is over. Let's go.”

“So you found something?”

Lucifer looked back into the Swan Room where Val was holding court with a handsome man twenty years her junior. The woman caught Lucifer's gaze for a moment, giving her a quick nod before turning her attention back to the man.

“Yeah, I found something.” Lucifer put her arm through David's and led him to the door. “And tonight, I'm stealing it.”

CHAPTER 17

“Pull up here.”

David did as he was told, but he said, “The gallery is three blocks up the street. I can get you closer.”

“I don't want any security cameras picking up your car,” Lucifer said. “Here is fine.”

The city was dark except for the lampposts snaking along the sidewalk. The skyscrapers and office buildings in downtown proper just a few blocks away were lost in the early morning fog, their weak light swallowed by the mist. The moon was low on the horizon, just beginning its slow crawl across the sky.

Lucifer felt more relaxed now that she was in more suitable attire. She wore dark jeans, an olive T-shirt, gray sneakers, and her ever-present black hoodie. Her hair was loose again, and the headache she had from wearing pigtails had finally worn off, allowing her to think more clearly.

Though Lucifer was always focused when on a job, David's presence was distracting. A pleasant distraction, but still, his being there kept getting in the way of her thoughts. Instead of imagining the layout of the gallery or the details of her plan to sneak inside, her mind wandered to thoughts about David. The way he held her hand, his crooked smile, his calming yet engaging voice. She needed to be on top of her game, and he was making that difficult.

Lucifer could see David's scowl in the dim red light of his dashboard. He had been in a sour mood ever since she told him he wasn't coming with her. It was her own fault, she supposed, since she never expressly told him he wasn't.

David pulled his car to the side of the road and killed the engine. The fog outside turned the city into puffs of black and amber cotton while a small cloud of condensation crept up the windshield in its slow, determined quest to hide the already blurry world from view.

“You don't have to stay here,” Lucifer said.

“I might as well,” said David. “The least I can do is drive the getaway car. I'm sorry. I mean the
most
I can do.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Don't be a brat about it. I told you. This is serious stuff. I'm about to commit a felony that could land me in jail for decades.”

“This is to help Gina, right? Then it's a risk I'm willing to take.”

Lucifer pulled her hood up over her head and started tucking her hair safely inside. “It's not a risk I'm willing to take. And it's my decision. Not yours.”

“Gina is my girlfriend.”

“And I'm really happy for you,” Lucifer said, though the words came out harsher than she had intended. “But I'm the thief. Not you.”

“I can be helpful,” David insisted.