The Judas Relic: An Evangeline Heart Holiday Adventure (3 page)

He might be a thief, but I wasn’t exactly working at a hospice, either. We held to the pirate’s code and while I might not trust everyone, I did trust Clay.

“Yep.” He held up an invitation. “Well-to-doers, maybe even some of the royal family, all at a little Christmas shin-dig, and you, are attending as my missus.”

“Oh, wait a minute there. I don’t think so.”

“I’ll shave. Have a nice tux. You can wear a gown.”

“I don’t do gowns.”

“Hmmm. I’ll split payment.”

“How much?”
 

“Two mil. One or you and one for me.”

I let out a low whistle. “Where do I get this gown?”

He laughed. “Monetarily motivated. I knew we had some things in common.”

“Right.” What he didn’t know is what I’d do with that kind of cash. I wasn’t necessarily motivated by money for my own gain. I had my causes. The monies would be channeled toward them.
 

He rubbed his palms together. “You’re in, then.”

“Well…” I slowed for the tollbooth, paid our fee, and hopped back on the main road, scanning both sides for a pub. But I also didn’t want to pick one too close, because he’d never get me all the details and I didn’t want to show up to this job unprepared. “What’s the fence?”

“Oliver Lareaux. Painting.”

“What? Who?”

He sighed. “This guy … Oliver was this up-and-coming artist out of Paris. Lived in Manhattan. He did some weird contemporary crap. If you ask me, I could do the same thing with fingerpaints, but rich people like weird shit. Anyway, this was back in the early ’70s. He was all into the Studio 54 club. You know … everyone who was anyone back then hung out there. Apparently the dude was murdered, and there’s some kind of lame-ass story that he was painting this particular painting on the day, and possibly while the killer was in his place. Folklore has it that the answers are in the painting. It’s been traded by private collectors for the last four decades, and now my guy wants it. I guess it’s worth several mil. Like fifteen, or something. I don’t know. Now, it is being showcased in some castle in West Sussex. My client is pissed that the Duke of Whatever won’t sell him the piece.”

“So, he wants you to steal it.”

“That’s why I like you. You’re smart.”
 

The car wobbled beneath my grip. “I’m not sure that this is a great fence. Might not be your best idea.” My stomach turned over. I risked a glance at him and got my breathing under control.

“You gonna be okay? Of course, it’ll be fine. It’s rich guys stealing from rich guys and it equals a very healthy payday for us.” He gave me a lazy grin. “I mean, this is nothing. When we’re on your jobs, we’re stealing shit that demons are after. We’re not only putting our lives at risk, but our souls are in the balance. A little piece of art is easy in comparison.”

If I could have punched him in the gut right then, I would have. I eyed him and shook my head. He was making some valid points, but this wasn’t just some little art piece, obviously. Plus, the bastard knew I got heartburn over stealing. Eliminating evil on the wrong end of my gun was a totally different deal. He did this solely for the payday. I did it to eradicate scum from the earth.
 

“What if I don’t want to help you?”

He shrugged and propped his elbow on the door, fingers drumming the upholstery. “Then I’ll probably get caught, killed, thrown in jail and you’ll have to figure out how to get along without me.”

He made it sound like I’d be pining for him, and that most definitely wasn’t the case. But I did need him. We hadn’t gotten any info on the second relic yet, but I knew it would be every bit as tough as the first and he’d masterminded our entire heist and successfully pulled it off.

Taking out twenty guards? Hmmm. “You have blueprints?”

He snorted.

“Right. Okay, I need to see the entire plan and figure out what alternatives we have. I’m not killing two dozen innocents.” I turned and stared at him as we careened down the road. “Understand?”

He winked.

Lina

I pulled into the narrow parking lot of the Blue Boar Inn, a two-story brick bar with a crumbling exterior and crooked sign that nearly guaranteed good food and better beer. We headed inside, and immediately I felt like I’d been transported back into seventeenth-century England. It was dark, lit only by lantern and a large fireplace at its center. Hard woods abounded, and the seating was wooden chairs set against wooden tables.
 

A young waitress came by and set down menus. Clay didn’t even look. “I’ll have fish n’ chips and a Kipling.”

“I’ll just have tea and toast, please. Oh, and a side of bacon.”

She smiled and nodded.

I shook my head at Clay. “A Kipling for breakfast?” I asked, referring to the ale.

He shrugged. “I told you that it’s five o’clock somewhere and that somewhere happens to be home.”

“Fine. It’s your liver. Want to finish going over the details of this little venture we’re going to take?”

“Nope,” he replied.

“Nope?”

He shook his head. “Not here. We have time.”

“How much?”

“Until tomorrow night. We have a day to plan and I’m already ahead of the game. You just need the peripheral details.”

“Hmmm.”

“Most important is we must go shopping and find you that gown.”

I frowned and took a sip of my tea. “I’m really going to play your wife on this?”

“Most definitely, darling,” he said in a British accent. “And, I suggest that you begin preparing now.” He placed his hand over mine, rubbing the back of it and smiling at me.
 

I snatched it away. “No one says that we are happily married.”

“Two million dollars says that we are.”

I sighed and took a bite of my toast after the waitress set it in front of me.

“Oh, Lina, just go with it. I’ll give you the details as soon as we get to the cottage?”

“Cottage?”

“I’ve taken the liberty, darling Duchess, to secure us with a humble abode in West Sussex. It’s quite quaint, according to the photos I’ve seen.”

“Your accent needs work.”

“And you’re a grump. Not much for the holiday spirit, are you?”

I looked up at him, and didn’t know what came over me. I felt emotion in the back of my throat and I had to bite my lip to keep tears from coming. I shook my head. “Not so much this year.”

He eyed me and his demeanor changed. “Yeah. I’m guessing with Griffin gone…”

The tears welled up and I brushed them aside. “He loved Christmas. He genuinely cared about people. Every Christmas Eve ever since we met, and I know he did it before me, we would go down to one of the soup kitchens and feed the homeless. Then, he’d have some elaborate meal waiting for the two of us when we got home, where we’d exchange gifts … just the two of us. The next day was all about his family, and all I had was Malcolm, so we all got together and celebrated.”

“I’m sorry, Lina. I really am.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Have you spoken with his family?”

“No.
 
Not since his funeral. I can’t. It’s too hard. I’m responsible for his death. They don’t know that, but it’s enough that I do.”

He set down his beer. “We’ll make it right for him. We will.”

I mustered a smile and we sat in silence for a few moments. “How about you? Any plans after our, uh, little venture goes down? Going to see family?”

He shook his head. “I saw my mom already. She’s um, well she’s got Alzheimer’s and so we already did the holiday thing. She’s all I have, besides Marvin.”

“Guess we both have our M&M’s,” I replied, referring to my mentor and his dog.

“Guess we do. And, another thing in common.”

“Right.” I finished my tea with the realization that Clay was probably just as lonely as I was.

Lina

“This is where we are staying?” I looked around the huge interior of the massive stone building. It was nothing like what I’d expected. “I thought you said it was a cottage? A humble abode?”

“No place like home, my love. I may have taken a few liberties in, um…fibbing.” Clay extended his arm in an elaborate bow.

I rolled my eyes.

A butler had welcomed us to the
cottage
. It was a castle. A flipping castle. “What in the world?”

He cleared his throat as the butler grabbed our luggage. “Welcome, Duke and Duchess Merriweather. I’m Lloyd and I’ll be at your service while here at Castle Artesia. We are pleased to have you as our guests. Do follow me.”

I was seething. I had to rethink this. Why was I seething? I suppose it was the fact that Lloyd and whoever else I was about to meet in the next forty-eight hours were going to think that Clay and I were married … not just married, but some duke and duchess. Jesus! How was I going to pull this off?

Lloyd took us to our suite, which was elaborate and more beautiful than I wanted to admit. It was decorated for the holidays, brimming in gold and silver silken fabrics, white and red candles in glass votives, and a to-die-for floral arrangement with red and pink roses, holly berries, and evergreen. A ping seared my chest and my gut sank at the memory of Griffin and I planning our honeymoon in Italy. We had talked about staying in a castle for a couple of nights.
 

“Darling, isn’t the bed lovely?” Clay asked in his stupid fake accent, snapping me back to what was my new reality.

“Quite.” I didn’t bother to hide my displeasure. Lloyd could think what he wanted, and I was sure we weren’t the first duke and duchess to bite at each other.

One suite. One bed. Well, Clay would be sleeping on the velvet upholstered sofa by the large arched window facing the moor and a bridge. I would be in that bed.

“If you should have any questions, please ring for me. Feel free to explore the castle. The holiday party is tomorrow at seven o’clock, as you are aware. This evening is free to any guests staying with us, as Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries are in Paris and returning in the morning.”

“Of course. Of course,” Clay said. “I don’t think the Duchess and I will be needing much of anything, Lloyd. You see, we’ve only recently married and I do believe our mums are expecting grandbabies as soon as possible,” Clay said, and slapped me on the butt.

I all but coldcocked him, but kept my wits, my fists balling up. I turned and walked to the window, but out of the corner of my eye I caught Clay handing Lloyd a piece of paper.

“What the hell? Babies? Married? Slapping my ass!” I yelled as soon as Lloyd was out of the room.

“Shhh! Come on. We have to play the part.”

I shook a finger at him. “You slap or grab my ass again, I will fucking kill you.”

He held up his hands. “Got it.”

“And what was up with the little trade of the paper with you and the butler?”

“Nothing. I just gave him my cell number and asked him to call me with a time for dinner reservations.”

“Oh.” I scowled, not sure he was being truthful, but I had nothing to call him on, either. “I don’t think we should go out to dinner tonight.”

He shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way. Guess we can just eat in.”

“Great. Let’s order food and make our plan.”

“Okay, Duchess, you’re the boss. Look, I want to get a little shut-eye, then we can get to our formal plan-making. You good with that?”

“Sure. I’ll have a look around, and be back in a bit. FYI, you can have the bed for your nap, but I get it tonight.”

He spread out on the bed, hands behind his head. “You’re the boss.”

Lina

I walked through the grounds, lost in thought, surrounded by beauty and freezing-ass temperatures. There were sculptures, and even with the snow and cold temperatures, the gardens were glorious with snow-capped trees. The archways were lit by candlelight throughout, and on an iced-over pond, a young family and a handful of teenagers skated. Overtaken by the beauty and serenity of the picture-perfect imagery, I sat on an iron bench, tucking my hands deep in my pockets.

Malcolm hadn’t returned my call yet, and I wondered how he was. I’d left him a message, unsure where the agency had sent him, but knowing that he’d get back to me if he could. I hoped he was being careful after his recent hip surgery. After that, I’d called Ralph and Anna and let them know I’d be in Chelsea in a couple of days, and they said they were happy to entertain me whenever I could come by.
 

I needed to see Ralph. I didn’t like the lack of information, and was getting antsy about when and how we were supposed to go about finding the next relic. When I’d started this mission of Metatron’s, I’d thought that all the info and pieces would come swift and keep us moving. I’d never been good at waiting. But Clay’s little side trip had distracted and sidetracked me, making me second-guess the decision to come help him instead of going straight to Ralph to bug him for more information about relics and where he thought I could be headed.

While I watched the skaters twirling and floating carefree across the ice, I wondered where life was headed for me, and whether I could save Griffin’s soul. I buried my face in my palms, and under my breath said a small prayer. “I need some answers, Metatron. I need to know what’s going on.”

“What’s going on is that you, dear girl, have taken a separate little adventure with your friend Clay.”

I looked up. Seated next to me was the distinguished, handsome archangel with steely blue eyes and slicked-back hair, more platinum than blond in the evening’s frigid air.

Everything around us had come to a complete stop. The people, the deer and rabbits sheltered beneath the trees—all of it. They were frozen in Metatron’s special space, one I had yet to understand. I wondered if all archangels did this, or if Metatron was uniquely quirky as a guy who’d once been human. It creeped me out, how he just froze everything, and how it would all return to normal as if nothing had happened, once he was gone.
 

“Now, you show up?” I yanked my hands from my pockets and waved them toward him. “I’ve been calling for you and trying to find out what I needed to do next! And, just now, you show up like everything’s perfectly fine.”