Infinityglass (13 page)

“I can transmutate. Ghosts don’t seem like a stretch.”

Dune cast a quick glance over at Carl, who just smiled.

“Bye, Carl,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.

“Good luck, and be careful.” Carl wiped hot chocolate foam off his upper lip. He was still smiling.

I hooked my arm through Dune’s and led him toward the
living room. It was a really nice arm. Strong. Defined. Tan with just a scattering of dark hair.

“You’re pretty open about your ability,” he said.

“Carl’s been around for years. We don’t have extended family. Or friends.” I wasn’t ready to let go of his arm yet, so I guided him toward the stairs and my bedroom. “Dad just hires staff instead.”

“You aren’t tight with the people you work with?”

“Not really. I’m older than Amelia and Zooey.” I wasn’t even going to touch the Poe relationship. “Besides that, it’s me and my dad, and the guards. Are you tight with the people you work with?”

“The Hourglass operates as a family. Our boss encourages it. You care about people; you have their backs when it comes down to the hard situations. I know how hokey that sounds.”

“It doesn’t sound hokey at all. Kind of nice, truthfully.”

“You’re lonely.”

He said it in a gentle tone, and it was an observation, not a question, but I felt like I needed to explain. “I have other people besides the ones I work with. There’s Gina, my dance teacher. I mean, it’s only the two of us, but I see her three days a week. I’ve taken a couple of classes at the theater where she teaches.”

“Dance class and Chronos jobs.” He raised his hand, and for a second, I thought he was going to touch my face. My heart caught in my chest, but he scratched his chin instead.

“What? You don’t like the way I live my life?”

“You have so much to offer, Hallie. The world needs you like nature needs sunlight.”

“That’s … possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He answered with a frown.

Feeling too close and too obvious, I pulled away from him. My body went cold without his heat. He rubbed his arm, like he was missing my warmth, too.

Or I was losing my mind, or something worse.

“Anyway, neither of my parents had big families. So it’s just us.” I walked into my bedroom, looking over my shoulder to see if he’d follow. He hesitated, but he came in. Then I dropped the bomb on him. “How do you feel about staying with me in the hotel this weekend?”

He blinked a couple of times. “Non sequitur much?”

“Sit.” I took the tiny vanity stool, partly from guilt that it was so small it barely supported him, and partly because I wanted to see what he looked like on my bed.

“A hotel?”

“Yeah.” I did a nervous side to side spin. “For a job. We need to retrieve something from the lobby.”

“When your dad hired me, he told me there was a good chance I would end up going on a Chronos job. I think he said many of them were questionable. He never said anything about taking his daughter to a hotel.”

“If you want to bail …”

“No! No, I don’t want to bail.”

My slow grin was answered with an immediate blush.

“I mean, I’m going to do the job. You’re stuck with me. I just … if I’m going to get arrested for a ‘retrieval,’ I should maybe make arrangements for bail ahead of time.”

“No one said anything about stealing. A family donated an antique crystal ball for display, but there was some kind of mix-up, and the hotel got the real thing.”

“Were they supposed to get a copy?”

“Yes,” I said. “The family needs the original back. They can’t waltz in and get it, you see, because they’re respectable now, with political aspirations. None of them wants the public to know what kind of value they place on it, or that it tells the truth about the past and shows the promises of the future.”

“We’re doing a bait and switch, then?”

“Just a switch.” I grinned. “You really don’t know much about breaking the rules, do you?”

He shook his head.

“Well, then. I look forward to teaching you.” I meant it.

Except … every time a Chronos job came up I felt torn. There was a constant pull between the desire to get out of my house and do a job well and the need to define myself beyond Chronos and my father’s expectations. Dance allowed for that, but only within the boundaries of my studio.

Taking Dune on the Bourbon Orleans job was necessary to keep him on Dad’s good side, and to keep him around. While I
was the one who suggested he go on the job with me, it had been before he and I had become … whatever we were now.

He was the only part of my life that wasn’t solely connected to Chronos, and suddenly, I didn’t want him to see me in light of what I did there. I didn’t want him to forget the Hallie he’d managed to discover over the past couple of weeks.

And I didn’t want to forget her either.

The hotel was just off Jackson Square.

We caught a cab instead of using my dad’s driver. Maintaining anonymity was a bitch. The rain had cleared out, and the sun was shining. The cabbie dropped us off on the corner of Orleans and Bourbon so we could walk to the main entrance from the side street.

“I brought my computer,” Dune said, lifting up his backpack. “Did you look at the file I sent you? If we have time, we could go over it.”

I had a vision of us sitting, our heads bent close together, staring at his laptop screen. It progressed to our hands touching accidentally, and then our shoulders, and then …

He was looking at me, and I was standing on Bourbon with my mouth hanging open.

“Sure. If we have time.” I’d only skimmed it. I pushed my sunglasses up on my head so I could see his eyes. “We’ll check in first. I need you to scout the case the crystal ball is in. Make
sure it’s movable, see if there’s a lock, that kind of thing. It’s in front of the check-in desk. We’ll do some observing, and later, I’ll create a diversion in the lobby while you take the crystal.”

“If that doesn’t work?” he asked.

“Then we’ll apply stealth.”

“Maybe we should apply it from the get-go.” He put his hand at the small of my back, and the valet and the doorman held the double doors open for us. The lobby was full of grandiose furniture, fine art, and huge bouquets of flowers in crystal vases. The blooms smelled absolutely divine.

I sashayed up to the check in desk and plopped down my fake ID and credit card.

“Welcome to the Bourbon Orleans. How may I assist you?”

“Check in. Christian Arnold.”

“Yes, miss.” Her name tag read O
LGA
, and I was pretty sure the accent was Norwegian. “Would you like to leave the room on this credit card?”

“I would. And you should have a package for me?”

She frowned. “I don’t see a note on the reservation. Just a moment, please. Excuse me.”

When she disappeared through a doorway, I pushed Dune away from the desk. “That case. Over there. Just be casual.”

I turned back just as Olga came around the corner.

“I’m sorry, Miss Arnold. We didn’t have anything for you.”

“Oh, let me check my e-mail and make sure I read it correctly.” I was trying to give Dune more time, but cut it short when
I realized Olga was doing a thorough job of checking him out. “Never mind. I’ll look later.”

I stared at her for a couple of seconds before she startled and began flipping through a stack of papers.

“Certainly. And you’ll be staying in one of our signature Saint Ann balcony loft suites. I do hope you’ll enjoy it. It’s very romantic.” She shot a look of approval over my shoulder.

“Romantic?” Oh hell. When Dad’s assistant had made the original reservation over a month ago, she’d counted on me being in the hotel alone, and Poe popping in and out. No need for two rooms or for two beds. “Do you have anything else?”

“We’re booked for the weekend, but the suite is one of our nicest. I’m sure it will meet your expectations.” I turned to see that she was focusing on Dune, who was leaning intently toward the glass case and talking to a hotel employee, while
pointing to the crystal on the top shelf
.

“I’m sure it will be lovely. Where’s the elevator?” I asked with forced cheer.

Olga pointed. “Right that way.”

I gave her a smile that displayed all my teeth, then spun on one high heel and approached Dune, grabbing his arms and dragging him away from the case.

“Thanks for the info,” Dune called out over his shoulder to the bellman.

“Enjoy your stay,” the bellman said back, tipping his cap.

“I’m sure I will.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I muttered, squeezing his elbow and steering him toward the elevator.

Dune

“You don’t have to squeeze so hard.” I stifled a yelp. “Or pinch.”

Hallie pinched me again, I guess for good measure. “Could you have been any more obvious?”

“There was a plaque with tiny, tiny print that covered the occult in Victorian times, and information on the
plaçage
. And some other stuff.” I gulped at the scary-angry look on her face. “I’m a reader. I was reading. It gave me a good excuse to ask the bellman questions.”

According to the plaque, the Bourbon Orleans had lived through many incarnations, starting as the home to the Orleans Ballroom in 1817. It had seen masquerades, carnival balls, and quadroon balls, and then turned into a convent and a school. In 1964, it became a hotel, with a reputation for excellent service and numerous hauntings.

From the orphan children who’d suffered through the yellow fever epidemic to a Civil War soldier to a dancer who whirled under the ballroom chandelier, there was a promising possibility of ghosts, or a terrifying rip or two.

“You didn’t need to ask questions. You were talking to an employee about the thing we are planning on stealing.”

“You said we were retrieving, not stealing.”

She pinched me again as we got on the elevator.

“You’re bossy,” I said. “Maybe a little bit mean.”

“It’s like you forgot why we were here.”

“Maybe I was a little thrown off when I overheard that we’re staying in the ‘romantic’ loft suite.” Or a lot thrown off.

The elevator doors dinged open. “It just worked out that way. Don’t worry, Saint Dune, I don’t plan on compromising your integrity.”

“No, of course not, because stealing has nothing to do with integrity.” The words were a whisper, but they echoed down the hallway.

“Retrieval,” Hallie said through gritted teeth as she pushed me inside the suite. “Here’s an idea. Try not to blow it all before we even get started. And I told you, we’re not … whoa.”

A red leather couch was backed up to an exposed brick wall. Across from it sat a small desk and a huge flat screen. The room was perfectly proportioned. French doors opened onto a private balcony, or gallery, as they are called in Lousiana. A split staircase led upstairs. To the bedroom.

Where there was one bed. One big, big bed and a bottle of champagne.

“I’ll take the couch,” I said. Or better yet, we’d finish the job today, and I would go home, lock myself in my apartment, and stand in a cold shower for two solid days.

“Don’t be passive-aggressive.” She threw her bag on the desk, unzipped it, and pulled out a sweater. “We can share the same breathing space for a day. Screw this job up and get me in trouble, and I’ll be forced to find inventive ways to injure your man parts.”

I tried to hide my smile as I sat down on the couch. Everything with Hallie was easy and complicated at the same time, in the very best way, but being alone with her in a hotel room with one bed was one complication I had no idea how to handle.

“Maybe you just want to think about my man parts.” Apparently I was going to handle it overtly.

She blinked a couple of times. Finally. I’d managed to throw her off. “Maybe I should do this myself.”

“I said I was in. I’m supposed to be helping you.”

“Right. Because you were so helpful in the lobby?”

“We both know you could do this job blindfolded in a blackout,” I argued. “Just like I know why you want to be here.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“You wanted out of your house,” I said. “You’re out. What else is there?”

Her look of frustration told me there was a lot more. “Maybe I wanted to get somewhere private and give you a chance to kiss me.”

I almost fell out of my seat. Her excuse was a diversion from the truth, and the perfect one to throw at me. I stood.

Tilting her head up, she moved close enough that our chests were almost touching. “Hallie,” I warned.

“Don’t you want to?”

“Want to what?”

Her hands went to her hips. “Kiss me.”

Caution spun my brain dry. “Not a good idea.”

“Not good,” she agreed.
“Great.”

“It isn’t—”

“We’re alone. Legitimately alone. Hint. There’s … tension, and maybe I’d like to ease it. What’s the problem?”

“Too fast. Out of nowhere. Complications. Cloudy motives.”

“All I see is sunshine.”

I couldn’t give in for a few reasons. One was fear of an imminent explosion. Another was that I was obviously outmatched, and I didn’t know how I’d make myself stop kissing her if I ever started.