Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties #2)(64)

He exhaled heavily. “If you want to know the truth, I’ve seen them before.”

The muscles in Hadley’s neck tightened. “Where?”

“Someone I used to know,” he said, removing his hat. “Someone I used to care about. I didn’t understand what was happening at the time, but I’ve since learned things. And I can help you, I promise. If you give me a chance, there are so many things I could teach you. So much I could show you.”

He sounded so sincere, and if it were any other matter but this, she might give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’ve never even heard of another person plagued by such a thing. And yet, you’ve somehow met two of us?”

“When I first came into town, I heard rumors from other curators about strange things happening in the de Young Museum. All of those rumors seemed to lead me to you.”

Anger swelled. The edges of her vision darkened. “You courted me under false pretenses?”

“No! I was curious, of course, but when I saw you, everything changed. My entire world opened up. Look at you—brilliant and strong. A scholar who’s not afraid to make her mark in a man’s world. Just like your mother.”

“My mother?”

“I know you say you don’t remember her, but surely you’ve read about her achievements. That photograph of her standing in front of the temple at Karnak with your father was printed in a dozen publications—you look just like her. It’s uncanny.”

Yes, her father had often said the same thing when he was feeling sentimental. But when Hadley looked at her mother’s image, all she saw was the woman who had paid her nanny.

“Everyone said your father stood upon her genius, and you have that same spark,” Oliver insisted, his hand reaching out for her face. “And so much more.”

She drew back sharply. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am not my mother’s daughter. Nor am I some curiosity to be studied.”

His dark brows knitted. “Of course you aren’t. And I can’t apologize enough for not telling you sooner that I knew about your gift. It’s just that I wanted to make sure the rumors were true, and I wanted you to trust me. I’m not interested in you as a curiosity or a whim. I truly believe fate brought you into my life. Fate brought us together,” he insisted, reaching out unexpectedly to trace her jaw with the tips of his gloved fingers. “You’re not cursed, Hadley. You’re blessed. Let me into your life, and I’ll prove it.”

His hand curled around the back of her neck. He leaned in before she could pull away. Cool lips pressed against hers, unyielding and insistent. Tobacco and the strong scent of bay rum smothered her senses as a keening anxiety turned her muscles to stone.

Everything inside her screamed no! And that was enough to tear her out of her panic. She shoved at his chest and stumbled backward, wiping her mouth on her coat sleeve. Good God. If she ever had any doubt about the lack of spark between them, she certainly didn’t now.

Wrong man. Absolutely the wrong man.

Jaw slack, he blinked as if dazed for several moments. His chest heaved with labored breath. Then his mouth warred with a manic smile. “Oh, Hadley. My darling—”

“I’m late for an appointment.” She brushed by him and headed toward the waiting cab.

“If you give me a chance, I will give you the world,” he called out behind her. “And instead of suppressing your gift, you can be what you were born to be.”

What exactly he thought that was, she didn’t bother to ask.

• • •

Lowe followed Dr. Bacall’s butler through a drafty Russian Hill mansion. The old man sat in a wheelchair on a closed-in porch that overlooked a sizable backyard for this part of the city, and, in the distance, San Francisco Bay, shrouded in dusk. A fine view, no doubt, but the blind man couldn’t see it. And yet he faced a large window as if he could still picture it all, a plaid blanket over his lap and a cup of steaming tea in his hands.

The servant announced Lowe.

“How are you, m’boy?” Bacall said, seemingly glad for the company.

“I’m sorry to bother you right when you’ve just gotten home from your workday, but I was hoping you might have a minute to answer some questions.”

“Sit,” the man said. “I’ll be glad to help however I can. Tell me about the search while you’re at it. Do you have good news?”

Lowe pulled a wicker chair closer to Bacall and tossed a glance toward the door to ensure servants weren’t lingering. “I’ve found the second crossbar.”

“Indeed?” Bacall grinned. “That’s marvelous!”

“Yes, but I’m a little worried about looking for a third piece.” Lowe set his hat on his lap. “Someone nearly killed me. I’m being tracked, and not in the usual manner. Someone’s using a very specific kind of magic to try to steal the crossbars.”

The man stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Someone who has the power to manifest mythical Egyptian chimera.”

The surface of the tea inside Dr. Bacall’s cup wobbled, but he didn’t answer.

“When my sister-in-law channeled your wife, her spirit warned me to keep the amulet away from Noel. I’m going to take a wild guess and assume this is your old excavation partner.”