Darker Days (The Darker Agency #1)(5)

I swallowed and gripped the edge of Mom’s desk, hoping to God that my cheeks weren’t fire engine red. “Um, I mean, can we help you with something?”

“Klaire Darker?”

“I am,” Mom said, stepping forward. She set the folder down and extended her hand. “And you are?”

He took her hand and gave what my dad would have referred to as a proper shake. “Lukas Scott. I just spoke with your daughter about a consultation.”

Daughter, huh? How had he put two and two together? I studied Mom. We were day and night. She was light skinned with crystal blue eyes and white-blond hair, and I took after my dad, with olive skin, dark hair, and eyes to match.

Mom must have been just as suspicious. “Who referred you to us, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m familiar with your family.”

“Well, then you must know we don’t take cases from minors.” She turned and gave me the I’m-talking-to-you eye. “Ever.”

“I’m aware of your policy, Ms. Darker, and I assure you I’m eighteen.”

She gestured to the seat on my left and he took it. “What exactly is it you need from me, Lukas?”

“I need to track someone down.”

Bah. Missing person? It didn’t get lamer than that. I picked up a pen. “Their name?”

“The family’s last name is Wells.”

Could he be more vague? “Do you have a first name?”

He shook his head. “Nothing current. This person would be the descendant of a woman named Meredith Wells. Born in Penance in the eighteen hundreds.”

I scribbled some notes.

“There’s also something else. A box. I need to find it.”

“What kind of box?” I asked, sticking the end of the pen in my mouth. I needed to do something to distract myself from staring at the guy, so I started picking at the edge of Mom’s address book. “And was this your box? Is it connected to this Wells family you’re looking for?”

He hesitated, then said, “It’s not my box and no, it is not directly related to the Wells family.”

Not directly related. Hmm.

“You’re being a bit vague,” Mom said, slipping into observation mode.

Silence.

We got a wide range of cons and bullshit artists on a daily basis looking to get us to steal their loot for them—we were the best after all—but Mom could always see through it. I attributed this to her time spent with Dad. He might not be around much anymore, but he’d left a lasting impression. It was great for business—bad if you were a teenage girl trying to slip something past your parental.

“What’s inside the box?” she pressed.

No answer.

“I need all the facts if I’m to do my job.” Mom stood and pointed to the door. “If you’re here wasting my time, I suggest you leave.”

“Sin,” he said after a moment.

Mom and I said at the same time, “Sin?”

“Sin. That’s what was inside the box. Seven of them, to be exact.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean by sin?” She sank back into the chair. He had her full attention again.

Had mine, too.

“The box containing the Seven Deadly Sins. That’s what’s been stolen.”

“Are you serious?” I turned to Mom. She used to tell me stories about it when I was a kid. Some parents told their children bedtime stories about knights in shining armor and fairy tale princesses—I got folklore and boogiemen. “Wasn’t the box tucked away in a little monastery in Tibet?”

“That was never proven. The true location of the box is a mystery—for good reason.” Her lip twitched with the barest hint of a smile. Hah. I did listen once in awhile when she talked. Granted not all the time—but once in awhile.

Lukas cleared his throat. “Not that big a mystery. The box has actually been here. Since the early nineteen hundreds.”

“Here? As in, Penance? No way was something that big sitting under our noses without us knowing…”

“There’s an old church—”

“Saint Vincent’s,” Mom said, stomping her foot. She turned and pinned me with an I told you so smile. “I knew something felt off about that robbery.”

Lukas cleared his throat. “The theft of the box isn’t the worst part.”

I pulled the pen from my mouth and tapped it against the desk. “Not seeing how it could get worse than that.”

“The box was opened.”

Definitely worse. “Color me corrected.”

“Earlier, the Sins were released. They’ve infected human bodies and have five days to find a witch and the person who released them.”

“Back up a sec,” I said. “Infected?”

“Infected,” Lukas repeated. “Think of it as a possession of sorts. When out of the box, they need vessels to carry their essences. They infect a human body—one vulnerable to their sin—and use it as a vehicle. The person is still in there—still conscious and unharmed—but has no control.”

“Jesus,” I breathed.

“What happens if they find what they’re looking for? A witch and the person who set them free?” Mom’s face was pale.