“Listen,” Kat says, laying a finger on Drew’s forearm, a totally unnecessary gesture that I’m sure we all notice. “You need to see the pendant that Cole just got.” She bumps me with her elbow. “From a guy.”
Drew looks at me expectantly. “Oh? A guy?” He raises his eyebrows in a way that’s both amused and vaguely condescending. He’s probably a little older than Francesca—maybe twenty-two or twenty-three, and the fact that he sees me as just a kid is obvious from his tone.
I glance at Kat, hoping she’ll drop it. “It’s no big deal.”
“No, but it’s really cool,” Kat says. “I think it’s an antique, and we thought you might be able to tell us something about it. Maybe you could use it as a model for a new line. Something Egyptian and gothic.” She turns to me. “Drew’s stuff sells out almost the minute we get a new piece in.”
Drew smiles at her, acknowledging the compliment. “I’d love to see it. I’m always looking for new inspiration.”
They’re both looking at me expectantly, so I sigh and reach for the chain, wishing she’d never seen it in the first place. As I pull the ankh out of my shirt, Drew gasps, and all the blood seems to drain from his face. He reaches for it, and as his fingers brush my skin, I feel the same unmistakable vibrations I’d learned to detect with the others, a flash of overwhelming emotions.
Drew is Akhet.
I search his face, trying to find a connection, but as he regains his composure, it’s as if a heavy curtain comes down and the vibrations go from sharp and pronounced to dull and faint.
“Allison,” he murmurs. Slowly he brings his eyes up to meet mine, their clear blue color marked with pain and questions, but somehow familiar. I hold his gaze as jolts of electricity race up my spine. Drew knew Allison. There’s no question that somehow we were connected five hundred years ago.
“It’s Cole,” Kat says, looking from me to Drew, a questioning look on her face.
“I’m sorry?” Drew says, as if he’s just remembering she’s in the room.
“Her name is Cole. You called her Allison.”
Drew clears his throat. “Yes. Sorry. Cole.” He turns back to me. “This pendant. It’s … it’s fantastic,” Drew says, running his fingers lightly over the ruby. “Where did you say you got this?” His voice is no more than a whisper.
“It was a gift,” I say clearly, feeling more in control. I glance over at Kat, who’s just staring at the two of us, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open.
“I would love to see this again,” Drew says, letting the cross drop back to my chest. “To do some sketches. Perhaps take some measurements.”
“Maybe,” I say, knowing I’m not going to just hand it over.
“That would be wonderful,” Drew says. Briefly, he lets his hand drop to my arm, and I get a quick but immediate sense of loss and longing—emotions I’m sure he’s letting me see. He seems to shudder, coming back to the present, pulling himself away from any memories he’s experiencing. His phone vibrates on the desk, and he glances at it and then back to me.
“You should get that,” Kat says, her voice cold and distant.
“Right,” he says. “I, um, probably should.”
Kat pulls me away from the office and down the hall. “What the hell was that all about?” she demands.
“What was what?” I ask as innocently as I can.
“That whole thing!” she says quietly. “The two of you were staring at each other like you were in a trance.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He just liked the necklace,” I say, hoping that’s enough to get her to drop the subject. “Why do you care so much?”
“Look,” she says, glancing toward the office door and ignoring the question. “I know when something’s going on. Drew and Francesca are practically engaged, and if you so much as think of coming between them, you’re insane.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, following her down the stairs. “You were the one who dragged me all the way over here.”
“I’m not stupid,” she whispers to me. “Bye, Francesca!” she calls as we walk through the shop, her voice light and happy. Kat glares at me as Francesca waves back. I’m so not looking forward to the ride home.
Drew catches up with us as we head out the back door. “Thanks again for showing me the pendant,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card for me. “Here’s my number if you need to get hold of me. Call me anytime. That necklace is truly one of a kind. I haven’t seen one like that in a long time.” His eyes hold mine so steady that I can’t look away. “A very long time.”
Twenty~Four
Veronique stands at the bottom of the Pacific Coast Club steps, linking her arm through mine like we’re old friends.
“Why here?” I ask, looking up at the dimly lit windows. When I called Veronique from home, she suggested we meet here, saying it wouldn’t be very busy on a Sunday. Now I’m not sure it’s such a great idea.
“Where better to put this whole episode behind us than the place where we last saw each other? What we need is a new start.” Veronique looks at me with a smile so wide she seems almost uncharacteristically giddy. “Definitely, a new start.”
The big brick building seems more menacing now that I know what happened here. My stomach is in knots, and I tie my jacket tighter against the cold spring wind. I put my right hand into the pocket to make sure the newspaper printouts are still there and feel something crumbly at the very bottom. I haven’t worn this jacket since Friday on the beach with Griffon. A lump forms in my throat, and I know what the pieces are before I pull out the broken sand dollar. Like everything associated with him the past few days, this has been destroyed, too.
I start up the front steps, but Veronique stops me.
“Not that way,” she says, walking quickly around the right side of the building. “We have to go in the back way. Last time, when it was someone’s home, things were different, but women have to go through the back now. Sexist bastards.”
I remember the “members only” greeting I got the last time I was there. “Are you a member?”
Veronique glances over her shoulder and laughs. “No.” She slows so that I can catch up with her. “I can’t be. Not being a man and all. But it does help to know people who are.”
We reach the back door and ring the bell. After a few tense seconds, it’s opened by a bored-looking man in a uniform. “Welcome,” he says and stands back to let us through.
“Thank you,” Veronique says briskly as she pushes past him into the back hallway.
I stand for a second, taking in the ornate ceiling and wood trim that seems to cover every surface. The place even smells old, and the combined scent of hair tonic and cigar smoke that has worked its way into the building over the past hundred years triggers a pang of familiarity in my chest. I haven’t seen this part of the building in my memories, but part of me deep inside remembers being here.
“Come on, this way,” Veronique says, and turns down a back hallway. For someone who isn’t a member of the club, she sure seems to know her way around. Somewhere in the distance I can hear soft piano music and the disjointed mumble of several male voices deep in conversation.
“Is there a meeting room or something?” I glance down at the doors that line the hallway and wonder if one of them is where I’d overheard Signore Luisotti seal Alessandra’s fate that long-ago night.
“There are, but that’s so boring,” Veronique says, pulling open a heavy wooden door and gesturing grandly. “We’re going to the roof.”
I stop at the entrance to the stairwell, thinking about what happened the last time I was on the roof of this building. “I don’t think so,” I say