Something in his expression said it had been a harrowing encounter. Jack hadn’t doubted Quinn — and Quinn didn’t doubt Jack for a minute.
“But hardly anybody’s even heard of the Infernals. Even Danni—”
“Danni — your partner who collects things?”
“Her shop is called The Cheshire Cat. It’s on Royal Street. She sells art, jewelry, and innocent collectibles. And she has a separate collection of things in the basement which will never be sold.” He hesitated. “We also destroy things when they need destroying. And when there are things out there that might cause… violence or havoc, people sometimes come to her — or The Cheshire Cat.” He shrugged. “We work together most of the time; she had to be at a ceremony with a friend of ours, a voodoo priestess.”
“So you’re moonlighting on your own?”
Quinn cast Jack a sharp glance. “That’s kind of what you’re doing, isn’t it?”
“This is how I make my living — just not so far from home.”
Quinn continued with, “The upper half of the scroll Chastain bought with the bracelet was copied before it was stolen. That copy and the original of the bottom half of the scroll were left to Danni on consignment.”
“Who left it?”
“Some weird old guy. Wouldn’t leave his name. Said he’d be back after she sold it. There didn’t seem to be anything — well, not right about it.” He hesitated and then said, “We usually have a nose for things that aren’t — right.”
“He trusted her?”
Quinn shrugged, hiding a burst of pride. “She has a flawless reputation.”
“Any buyer?”
Quinn felt a mild jolt of unease as he remembered Danni mentioning that she had sold the fragment.
And to whom she had sold it.
“Yes. Madame de Medici.”
“I thought you didn’t know the woman,” Jack said sharply.
“I don’t know her; I know of her. She doesn’t come into the shop herself; she sends a minion.”
Jack laughed. “Minion? She’s got a minion?”
“A number of them. Anyway, she’s purchased from Danni before and nothing bad has ever come of it.”
“So she does figure in this.”
“What the hell — maybe. But I still think Chastain is taking the two of us on some kind of a ride.”
“We’ll worry about Madame de Medici later,” Jack said, pointing to the bracelet. “What’s the deal on this thing?”
“The top half of the scroll claims the Cidsev Nelesso confers the ‘gift’ of knowing the thoughts of others. ‘No one can hide their thoughts from the wearer.’”
“I can see where that could come in handy during a negotiation.”
“For a collector like Chastain, who’s always haggling, it’s invaluable.”
“What’s the downside?”
Quinn was surprised by the question. “Why do you think there’s a downside?” He felt uneasy. They should have sensed something bad was going to go down.
“Always a downside with an Infernal.”
“How can you know that?”
“Supposedly there are seven Infernals. One of them damn near took the two people who mean more to me than anything else in this world.”
“How?”
“Too long a story for here and now.”
“Okay. Where is it now?”
“Gone. And don’t ask where because I don’t know. But it didn’t go alone. It took somebody with it.”
From Jack’s expression, Quinn knew better than to ask who.
Jack cleared his throat and said, “Enough about me. What’s the bottom half of the scroll say?”
“It says the bracelet isn’t of Greek or Egyptian origin — calls it ‘one of the Seven Infernals from the First Age.’ I obviously don’t have to explain that to you. But its ‘gift’ is considered a curse, so maybe that’s your downside.”
Jack shook his head. “If you know someone’s thoughts, they can’t hide anything from you. The truth can be ugly, and it can hurt, but knowing what’s really going down is better than getting the shaft.”
Quinn couldn’t disagree. The advantage in any relationship, business or personal, was obvious.
“But either way,” Jack said. “Why the hell are we here?”
“According to the scroll, the Cidsev Nelesso, like all Seven Infernals, must be triggered to work.”
Jack’s expression was bleak. “Yeah, I know.”
Quinn wondered just what the hell had happened to him.
He held up the bracelet. “Well, this one requires violence to activate it.”
“So, there you have it. That’s why we’re here. Was I actually supposed to kill you?”
“The scroll says death isn’t necessary. Just violence.”
Jack began wandering in a tight circle, muttering. “Curse. No one can hide their thoughts from the wearer. Violence.”
Suddenly Jack whirled and punched him in the gut. Quinn doubled over, as much in surprise as in pain.
“Are you out of your—?”
A right cross to the jaw snapped his head back.
That did it. If this son of a bitch wanted a donnybrook, he was going to get one. Quinn charged, head down, catching Jack in the midsection and slamming him back against the shelves.
“You son of a bitch!” Jack gasped in a breathless voice.
And then he grabbed Quinn’s arm and flipped him on his ass.
Ah, hell! Quinn thought, rolling and leaping to his feet.
But he was smiling as he charged at Jack.
“Is it going as you hoped?” said a soft, feminine voice behind him.
Jules Chastain whirled, then relaxed. Even in the meager light he recognized Madame de Medici. He had found a vantage point fifty yards from his family mausoleum and had settled in to see if the seeds he had planted bore violent fruit. How had she found him?
“Not quite. And why are you here?”
“As an involved party, I have a right, yes?”
He had been trying to place her accent in the years since she’d appeared in New Orleans, but it remained elusive.
“You recommended the New York mercenary, nothing more.”
She said she’d heard of a so-called Repairman Jack who hired himself out to “fix” situations. She had assured Jules he was real and reliable, though known to have a violent streak. She’d even passed along his number. Jules had liked the violent-streak aspect, and had hired Michael Quinn as cannon fodder — everyone in New Orleans knew not to mess with Quinn. The two made for a combustible combination.
She focused her amber gaze on him. “But I have an interest in the Cidsev Nelesso as well. After all, I used to own it.”
Those eyes. One could almost fall into them. Could almost believe she really had lived for millennia.
But Jules chose to humor her rather than challenge her. The Cidsev Nelesso had been found in Heracleion, which had sunk in the third century BC. The idea of Madame de Medici once having owned that bracelet was beyond delusional. More like psychotic.
So, never challenge a psycho.
“I hope you’re not thinking of trying anything sneaky here.”
“Dear Jules, the idea never crossed my mind. I will be quite happy to see it on your wrist. I lost it in a civil upheaval. Where it lands after that is up to fate.”
Whatever happened to the Cidsev Nelesso, dear lady, it landed with me.
He had made up that story for Jack about stealing it from her. Quite clever, he thought. But he had bought it fair and square on the black market. It was his.
God, she was beautiful. She’d emigrated from Cairo during the so-called Arab Spring and wound up in New Orleans with a trove of antiquities. She tended to dress in gauzy fabrics that covered everything and hid nothing. He’d asked her to dinner a hundred times but she’d refused. I’m not looking for a relationship, was her eternal excuse.