The Wicked (Elder Races #5.5)(11)

How did your first meeting with his lordship go? Steve asked her telepathically. Did he give you the same ‘my way or the highway’ speech that he gave the Djinn?

Taken aback, Olivia said the first thing that popped into her head. His lordship?

You know what they say about short men and Napoleonic complexes, Steve told her. He glanced toward the head of the plane, his eyes filled with a sharp gleam and his expression cynical.

She had been so focused on how people would react to what she had done, she hadn’t given a thought to how different someone else’s perspective might be. And she was immediately convinced she did not want to have this talk with Steve.

She leaned back in her seat as if trying to put more distance between them, as she said cautiously, I don’t know what you mean.

Steve might be intelligent, but he did not appear to pick up on her verbal or nonverbal cues. His lips twitched into a thin smile. As soon as I heard that the great Sebastian Hale himself would be leading the expedition, I did a little more research on our fearless leader. He has quite the reputation for being aggressive and dictatorial. Just like I said, Napoleonic complex.

The “great Sebastian Hale”?

What was great about him?

Don’t ask. This conversation was a minefield. She rarely developed a dislike for someone as quickly as she did for this symbologist, and she fought again the impulse to squirm.

Steve looked at her expectantly. She wanted to stay silent and ignore him, but he was one of the two people she would be working with daily for the next few weeks, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to shut him down so flagrantly.

Fumbling for a neutral, diplomatic response, she said, I’ve never heard of him before. I didn’t research anybody who came on the trip.

Though she hadn’t intended for him to, Steve took that as a request for more information. He said, Hale runs one of the best security companies in the world. They’re based in Jamaica. He won’t have anything to do with Dragos or the Wyr demesne, but word is, he could have been a sentinel if he’d wanted to. He’s supposed to be that good.

There were seven demesnes of Elder Races in the United States—Wyr, Elven, Light Fae, Dark Fae, the Nightkind, Demonkind and the human witch demesne, which was based in Louisville, Kentucky.

Dragos Cuelebre, ancient dragon and multibillionaire, governed the Wyr demesne in New York. At the core of his governing structure were his seven sentinels who were reputed to be the strongest Wyr in the world. She didn’t want to be impressed by anything Steve told her, but she couldn’t help it. She glanced over her shoulder at where Sebastian sat, deep in his work. The hard planes of his face were as remote as ever.

Steve continued, Not that Hale would be a suitable choice any longer as a sentinel in any case. As an owl shifter, his lifespan is only around two hundred and fifty years, and he’s grown too old. When she turned around to face the table, Steve’s expression had turned calculating. Of course, if his eyesight is so sensitive that he can’t even take off his sunglasses in daylight that might have disqualified him too.

But Steve was wrong about that. Despite popular belief, Olivia knew that owls could see perfectly well in daylight, and in fact their vision was extraordinary.

Sebastian wore his sunglasses for an entirely different reason. Not for the first time, she wondered why.

Chapter Four

Thankfully at that point, Dendera returned from the lavatory and put an end to Steve’s unwelcome gossip. The three symbologists spent the next hour discussing how they would approach safely packing the most fragile items in the library, which included a rich collection of works on papyrus.

“Carling said she kept a handwritten catalogue of items in her office,” Dendera told them. “Unfortunately, it’s not based on a professional library catalogue system, but we’re not to reorganize anything. Our job is to simply keep the collection structured the way it is, and make sure it’s all packed properly. We also need to make sure that the magical works are safely contained, so that they don’t cause damage to anyone when they’re shifted.”

When Olivia thought of the work ahead, her excitement rose all over again. As a private collection, not many people beyond Carling herself would have viewed the contents of the library. Perhaps assistants had gotten the opportunity through the centuries, or protégées that Carling might have taken on. This opportunity really was the chance of a lifetime. Of several lifetimes.

The rest of the day sped away in a flurry of activity. When the plane landed in SFO, more Cadillac Escalades were waiting to take the group to the Marina Yacht Harbor, just east of Chrissy Field and the Presidio, at the northernmost tip of the peninsula.

The private yacht was massive, with plenty of space in the cargo hold to transport the collection. As soon as Olivia saw it moored in its slip, her mental tally of the cost of the expedition shot higher. A crew of six waited on board for them, each one of them members of Sebastian’s security company. From the snatches of conversation she overheard, apparently Sebastian owned the yacht—or at least his company did.

As soon as they boarded, Sebastian disappeared. Olivia found herself disturbed by how disappointed she was at his absence. She had all too quickly developed a fascination for him. Making a determined effort, she managed to banish him from her mind and concentrate on the tasks at hand.

The crew showed the newcomers to their tiny cabins, which were little more than glorified closets with bunk beds built into the walls. Olivia and Dendera were to share one cabin.