“Really, now,” he said. “I find it hard to believe that you, Alexandra—named for your great-great-grandfather—know nothing.”
I held up a finger and smiled. “I didn’t say I knew nothing.”
“So . . . what can you tell me?”
I held my tongue. If one of the rules set upon Stanis centuries ago had been to keep his gargoyle form hidden from humanity, who was I to screw that up? It was impressive Stanis had managed to pull it off for all this time in a city of millions, with security cameras and iPhones.
At that point, I wasn’t convinced that telling Desmond Locke or his Libra Concordia anything about the gargoyle was a smart idea. At least not on a first date.
Desmond Locke looked to Marshall, then to Rory, but as I suspected, neither of them was offering up anything either. He sighed.
“Very well,” he said. “I can perhaps understand your reluctance. These are dark and important matters, not to be taken lightly. But think of this: Something destroyed your family’s catacombs and your great-great-grandfather’s studio. If you’re as smart a girl as I think you to be, then you’re probably smart enough to be scared. The Libra Concordia has ways to help you with that.” He gestured to the caged-off area behind us. “We have the resources to help you, Alexandra, but you have to give me something.”
“How can I trust you?” I asked. “You claim to be a man of God yet you pulled a gun on us. You also know about the arcane world. How can I believe you when you’re a man of conflicting ideologies?”
He smiled across the desk at me. “You can be a man of God and believe in magic,” he said. “Or, as your friend Marshall called it, a science we do not yet fully grasp. After all, who gave science to us but God?”
It made a sort of sense, and I wanted to believe him, especially if it meant he might be of some help in getting Stanis back.
“I need some time to think,” I said. “I’m not the trusting sort.”
“He could have already shot us,” Rory whispered from behind me.
I spun around and glared at her over on the couch. “Not a compelling argument there, Ror.”
“Perhaps this will help,” Locke said, standing up. He walked to the edge of his office area and called out toward an area filled with other workers farther down the aisle. “Caleb!”
A figure rose from a shadowy corner of the offices farther along and stepped forward, heading down the aisle toward us. This Caleb stepped into a pool of light, revealing his muss of blond hair and long brown coat. They hadn’t changed much since I had last seen him in my great-great-grandfather’s guild hall.
The potion thief.
“You!” I shouted, only to get looks from the other people working around the office.
The strange man paused in the aisle, looking both sheepish and panicked at the same time. The hesitation lasted only for a second, but then he hurried down the aisle toward me, rolling his legs over the low wall and stepping into Locke’s office space. Rory was on her feet in an instant, but Marshall was taking his time, not having actually seen the man that night.
Mr. Locke gave him a raised eyebrow. “You two know each other, Mr. Kennedy?”
“We’ve met,” he shouted out before I could get an answer out. “Big fan of her great-grandfather’s work.”
He moved across the space quickly as he came to join us.
“Great-great-grandfather,” I corrected.
“Yes, of course,” he said, not missing a beat, laying his hands on my shoulders. “Great-great-grandfather. She and I met at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We were both studying some of his statues there. So good to see you again.”
Caleb Kennedy’s eyes stayed with mine, locked, the smile on his face wide and forced, wavering slightly. His hands on my shoulders dug in hard, almost causing me to cry out, but I held it in, trying to read this man who—last time I had seen him—had knocked Rory unconscious.
Examining his face as best I could in our short reintroduction, I decided to play along. We were both of us in mixed company at the moment, and I doubted much could happen that was harmful this time, so I went along with whatever he was doing.
“Yes,” I said. “Of course. I remember.” I turned to my friends. “Rory, Marshall. This is . . .”
“Caleb,” he said to them. The blond’s face washed with relief, and he let go of my shoulders to vigorously shake hands with both my friends. Marshall, who had never seen him before, took Caleb’s hand and shook first, but Rory only did so reluctantly, and when she did, there was a burning fire set deep in her eyes.
Caleb mouthed the word “sorry” to her, but it did nothing to change her expression, and he quickly dropped his hand away from her before stepping back toward Desmond Locke.
Locke eyed Caleb with a hint of suspicion, but the blond’s face didn’t falter. He simply stared at his boss, waiting.
“As a token of trust,” Locke said, “I want you to help Miss Belarus here in one of the reference rooms with anything pertaining to her family.”
Caleb’s eyes went wide like those of a child. “Really?”
“You can handle that, can’t you?”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation, and turned. “Please follow me.”
Rory, Marshall, and I fell in behind him, but Desmond Locke’s words stopped us all.
“Just Miss Belarus,” he said. “For now.”
I looked over at him. “Why not all of us?” I asked.
Caleb stopped as well and turned back to Desmond Locke.
“The things we keep record of are precious to us,” Locke said. “And since you’re being a bit tight-lipped with me about your father’s angel, Miss Belarus, I will do the same in return. As I said, this is a token of our trust, one that may turn into a mutually beneficial arrangement, but it is just that. A token. So for now, only Miss Belarus may have access to our records. If things go well, I promise your friends will be welcome in the future.”
Rory shook her head and stepped up to Locke. “I’m not leaving Lexi alone with him,” she said.
I laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be fine,” I said, pulling her away from him, then lowered my voice. “Do you really think blondie’s going to start trouble here?”
Rory didn’t look convinced, but she relented and went to stand by Marshall.
Caleb turned and again started off down the main aisle of the converted church, and I followed him all the way to the back of it, leaving my friends and Desmond Locke behind us. I only hoped they would be safe with him.
Past the caged-off area to our right lay a series of doors, and Caleb headed for the one farthest back. I remained silent as we stepped in, and he shut the door behind us, which left the two of us alone in a stylish one-room book-lined library with a wide reading table at the center.
Locke’s man smiled at me with such a level of smugness that I couldn’t help but run to him and slam him up against the wall until I was pressing my forearm across his throat. “You want to tell me why you lied to Desmond Locke and his Libra Concordia about how we previously met?” I asked. “Or maybe why you attacked us?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he croaked out, already trying to struggle his way out from under my arm, but I wouldn’t let up. He was probably stronger than me, but I was riled and pushed even harder as he tried to wrench my arm away from his throat.