Buried Page 10

  Alejandro’s lauvan spasm when he says the last words, and I know that under his outrage, he feels the loss of Jen keenly. I carefully choose my next words.

  “Was that exactly what Jen said, or are you paraphrasing?”

  “Close enough,” he says. “She got her point across.”

  “Did she perhaps say something like this: that’s terrible news, Alejandro. I’m so sorry. Life is cruel when it’s too short, isn’t it? I wish we could all be immortal like Merry. Carpe diem, seize the day, right? Life is too precious to waste. I hope your uncle had a beautiful, full life in the short time he had.”

  “No, she didn’t say that,” he snaps.

  “I’m sure her words were different. But do you think that was what she might have been trying to say?”

  Alejandro stares at me for several long moments. Then, his body deflates and his lauvan sag. He puts his face in his hands.

  “Oh, no. What have I done?” He looks back at me with horror. “The things I said. How could I do that?” He whips his phone out and dials Jen’s number. Ringing leads to voicemail, and Alejandro leaves an anguished apology, followed by a pleading text.

  “Now that we’ve dealt with that,” I say briskly. “Let’s go to March’s house.”

  Alejandro looks at me with hollow eyes.

  “I should go find Jen.”

  “Leave her to cool down. You’ve said your piece over the phone. Give her some space until tomorrow.” I pat him on the back. “And what better way to distract yourself than with some burglary?”

  ***

  Alejandro peers at my phone one last time then up at the house number on a wrought-iron gate that cuts across a driveway between impenetrable cedar hedges.

  “This is it. Assuming Jen texted you the right address.” Alejandro’s lauvan twitch when he says Jen’s name aloud.

  “Looks right. Anyone able to afford a place on Marine Drive in this market has multiple full bank accounts and is on Christmas party invites with their financial planner. March will be here.”

  I pull over in front of the neighbor’s house. Cars drive past while I consider our options. Alejandro cranes his neck to examine the hedge.

  “How are we going to get in? The gate has a key pad, and that hedge is thick.”

  “Can’t go under, can’t go through…” I say, then glance at Alejandro. “Shall we go over?”

  He stares at me for a moment until understanding blossoms on his face.

  “Fly over? Oh, yes.”

  “All right, here’s the plan. We transform and fly to the top of that fir tree.” I point beside us. “We watch for activity for a few minutes. Once I have the lay of the land, we will fly to the safest place to transform back into ourselves. Understand?”

  “Yes.” Alejandro’s voice holds repressed excitement. “I’m ready.”

  The prospect of a flight has cheered up Alejandro, as I suspected it would. Hopefully, it will make him forget about Jen for long enough to keep his mind on the task.

  We exit the car and I walk around to the passenger’s side. There are plenty of cars zooming by, with many disinterested eyes gazing at us. Someone will notice when we transform into birds.

  “Come on.” I gesture to the gap between March’s cedar hedge and the towering laurel bush of next door. “In here, where no one can see.”

  “Why don’t we just push through the hedge?” Alejandro slides between branches then grimaces. “There’s a fence in here.”

  “Over we go. Hold still.” I reach for Alejandro’s lauvan and he stops moving with a patient expression, although his strands twitch with excitement over his upcoming flight.

  I changed him into a golden eagle only a few short weeks ago, and the pattern of knots and twists needed to transform are still fresh on my fingertips. Before long, Alejandro shrinks in a moment and reappears as a ruffled-looking eagle perched unsteadily on the ground. He tilts his head at me and clicks his beak.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” I swiftly grab the necessary lauvan and yank. After a breathless nothing, I arrive into a dazzling world of sound and detail. Every scale on every cedar leaf is crisp and vibrant, and the roar of traffic is nearly overwhelming. I take a moment to orient myself, to become inured to the foreign senses, then I nod my head to Alejandro and shuffle out of the hedge in an ungainly waddle.

  When there is enough room, I spread my wings wide, the blue-gray wings of a merlin falcon, and with a mighty effort, lift off from the ground. I circle in ever-increasing loops, up and up, until the boughs of the Douglas fir beckon. My wings angle for landing, and I grip the branch tightly with sharp talons. Alejandro lands heavily beside me and flaps a few times to regain his balance. I survey the scene below.

  March’s house is a sprawling, Tudor-style mansion on an expansive treed lot hidden from the road by the towering hedge. Dormers peek out from a steep roof, and a covered area built for driving through protects exiting passengers from the rain. There are no cars in the driveway, but that is to be expected with a three-car garage. I strain my falcon ears to hear past the traffic noise. Although one neighbor is conversing loudly, and another is having their house vacuumed, no sounds emerge from March’s house. It doesn’t mean there isn’t someone quietly reading a book inside, but I don’t have definite proof that the house is currently occupied.

  That’s good enough for me. I turn to look at Alejandro. His gaze is fixed on a spot on the ground and I follow his line of sight. There is a mouse sniffing under a dry leaf in a flower bed, its tiny whiskers twitching clearly in my enhanced vision.

  I forgot to make sure Alejandro wasn’t hungry before we transformed. He’s in mourning and angry about Jen, so he likely didn’t make breakfast his top priority. Just as he opens his wings to swoop down from our branch and strike the unsuspecting mammal below, I reach out with my sharp beak and nip him hard on the wing. He squawks indignantly, and the mouse scuttles out of view.

  We had better transform, and soon. It’s too difficult to fight the impulses of a hungry bird. I open my own wings and glide to a large rhododendron to the left of a side door. Before my talons touch the ground, I release my lauvan and land on steady feet as a human. Grace is the reward for years of practice. Alejandro lands awkwardly on the ground and I press a few knots in his lauvan between my fingers to release them. He reappears in his usual form, sitting on the ground with rumpled hair and a dazed expression. He rubs his arm and frowns at me.

  “Did you have to bite so hard?” he whispers. I nod.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to eat a mouse for lunch. The aftertaste is terrible.”

  Alejandro looks a little green and accepts my hand to pull himself up. We survey the closed door for a moment.

  “How do we get in?” he says quietly.

  “I could pick the locks, either manually or with lauvan manipulation. We could break a window and climb through that way. I could scale the wall and see if any windows on the top floor are open.” I reach up above the doorframe and pull out a key. “Or we could let ourselves in with the spare key.”

  “How did you know that was there?” Alejandro looks impressed.

  “People are predictable. When you’ve lived as long as I have, common habits are easy to spot.”

  The key fits in and slides the deadbolt over with a soft clunk. I hold my hand out for Alejandro to wait, and I open the door.

  A spacious coat room is lined with carefully hung coats, rubber boots of various sizes, and a stand of folded umbrellas. The door to the rest of the house is closed, so I beckon Alejandro forward. He tiptoes in and shuts the door behind him with a quiet click.

  “Take off your shoes,” I whisper. “It’s quieter that way. Just in case.”

  “I thought there was nobody here?” Alejandro gulps and removes his shoes. I stash both pairs behind a pair of black rubber boots.

  “I’m fairly certain, but you never know.” I shrug and grin. “Let’s go.”

  Alejandro looks like he wants to protest but simply shakes his
head and follows me. I open the door and peer out. There is no sound, so I fling the door wide and pad onto the carpet runner in the hallway. Beautiful honey-colored wood floors gleam softly below mahogany wainscoting and ornate picture frames housing serene watercolors. Two chairs reside in the unused space beside the staircase, and they look identical to ones I have sat in during Queen Victoria’s reign.

  “Where would the safe be?” Alejandro breathes in my ear.

  “Let’s try the bedrooms.”

  The carpet runner leads us upstairs, past a grandfather clock on the landing and potted plants on a windowsill. The first door is a bathroom, but the second is a luxurious master suite, with a four-poster bed and pink and gold furnishings. The walk-in closet, however, is devoid of safes, even after I check behind clothes and open drawers.

  “Now where?” says Alejandro. He must be feeling bolder now, because he speaks at a normal volume while running his fingers along the nightstand to check for hidden latches.

  “An office, then basement. After that, we’ll have to rip up floorboards.” I say it in jest, but Alejandro looks at the carpet with an appraising eye.

  Downstairs, a door off the hallway reveals a study lined with bookshelves over burgundy walls. A sturdy oak desk accompanies a padded office chair and two expensive-looking upholstered wingbacks. Alejandro runs his fingers along each shelf, but I shake my head.

  “Check the desk drawer, if you like, but I don’t see any evidence of the safe in here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There will be some of March’s free-floating lauvan swirling around the area. She put the grail in recently, and it is too important to her for her to be calm about it. She’ll have shed some strands for certain.”

  Alejandro looks crestfallen, then he brightens.

  “But the basement might have it.”

  “Then we had best look there.”

  In the downstairs kitchen, we pass a vast expanse of dazzlingly white counter to find a well-stocked pantry. Inside, hidden behind a discreet door next to an upright freezer, is the entrance to the basement. Surprisingly, it is unfinished. The raw boards of the stairs lead to the bare cement of the foundation. There is nothing here, nothing except a furnace and…

  “Look, Merlo. There it is.” Alejandro runs to the safe, a sturdy metal box too large and heavy to lift, and drops to his knees. He looks up at me. “Where is the key?”

  I draw it out of my pocket then peer at the safe more closely. It has a keypad, with no keyhole in sight.

  “Where does the key go?” I say slowly. Alejandro gapes at me, stares at the safe, then frantically searches every side of the black box.

  My brain whirrs, trying to make sense of this mystery. Did August lie about her sister’s key? If so, she was a very good liar, as she convinced me with body language and lauvan alike. March must have told August that the key opened the safe. But why? I hold the key before my eyes. It is tiny, truly a charm on a bracelet rather than a proper key. But on the shank, there is a roughness that I hadn’t noticed before. I squint to see better.

  Engraved on the metal, only faintly discernable in the copy I created, is a series of four numbers. Bingo.

  My fingers tap the code onto the keypad and the safe clicks open with an accompanying buzz. Alejandro pops his head over the back of the safe, where he examines the footings.

  “How did you do it?”

  “Through my immense wisdom and superior intellect,” I say. When he rolls his eyes, I laugh. “The numbers were carved on the key.”

  “Tricky.” Alejandro shuffles to the front of the safe. “Let’s see the famous grail again.”

  The door swings open on well-oiled hinges. The only item inside is the grail. Its enameled bowl sits directly on the floor of the safe but is barely visible under a thick layer of multicolored lauvan. The metal gleams between the strands in the dim light.

  “I remembered it as being bigger,” Alejandro says in a contemplative tone. “More impressive.”

  “That’s often the way. Legends elevate reality to epic proportions. Reality can rarely keep up.”

  “Let’s take it and go,” he says with a glance behind us.

  “Yes, we’ve been lucky thus far. Perhaps we shouldn’t tempt fate.”

  I reach in to pick up the grail. Before my fingers touch it, a boiling mass of silvery-brown earth lauvan erupts from inside the cup and pushes my hands back. Intense pain enflames my skin and I stifle a yelp with difficulty. At the sight of my palms rubbed raw as if grated along rough granite, Alejandro blanches.

  “Now what?” he says.

  “I was half-expecting that.” I catch a glimmer of silver inside the cup. It must be another amulet. “March was anticipating my attempt to retrieve the grail, so she has it charmed against me. That’s why I brought you along.”

  “Me?” Alejandro glances at my hands again then nods with resolution. “Okay, let me try.”

  “Good man.” I pat him gingerly on the back and move out of the way. “I can heal any wounds you might sustain.”

  He takes a deep breath then pushes his hands toward the grail. Closer and closer he draws, until both hands cup the bowl of the grail between them. He looks at me with triumph.

  “Good,” I say. “Now take it out.”

  Alejandro’s fingers tighten, and he attempts to pull his arms out of the safe. He frowns, and his biceps strain. The grail doesn’t budge.

  “It’s not coming,” he says. “Why not?”

  I bend my head closer to the safe. So thin I can barely see them are dozens of earth lauvan, crisscrossing through the multicolored strands and holding the grail firmly to the ground. I look on the outside of the safe, and similar threads anchor the safe in place. Neither the grail nor the safe are going anywhere without March’s permission.

  I heave a sigh.

  “It’s stuck,” I say. Alejandro’s shoulders slump in disappointment, then he stiffens.

  “Did you hear that?”

  CHAPTER XV

  A click of the front door being unbolted freezes me. We were too slow. What is March doing home at this hour? Doesn’t she have businesses to oversee or evil organizations to run?

  I curse under my breath and think through our options. The only way into the basement is through the door in the pantry. Our shoes are in the coat room, and although we could leave without them, there is a convenient and hidden exit door in that room. It depends where March goes.

  “What are we going to do?” Alejandro breathes in my ear. His lauvan dance with agitation.

  “Listen for where she goes, first. If she goes upstairs, we’ll make a dash for the exit. If worst comes to worst, I can transform us into mice, and we can scuttle out like that.”

  Alejandro visibly relaxes.

  “Assuming she doesn’t have a cat,” I add. “And that I can remember how. It’s been a while.”

  His lauvan stiffen again, but he creeps to the stairs without further speech. I follow him, and we listen for clues to March’s whereabouts.

  Soon, it’s clear where she has decided to go, and she’s not alone. Anna’s soft voice floats through the door as she and March settle into chairs at the kitchen table. My fists tighten. How long will we have to camp out here? Now even my mouse plan won’t work. They would notice the door opening from their vantage point and would certainly not leave mice to roam freely. My mouse trick worked much better in the past, when rodents were commonplace in houses.

  I sit on the third stair from the top. We might as well get comfortable, since we’ll be here a while. Perhaps March will discuss sensitive information with Anna, and we can learn something of interest to make this trip worthwhile. Alejandro follows suit on the fourth tread, and we listen closely.

  “I love this tea, March,” Anna says. A teacup clinks on a saucer. “Where do you get it?”

  “It’s a special blend. I’ll give you some when you leave,” says March. A chair scrapes over the floor, and March sighs. “Oh, it’s good to sit for a m
oment.”

  “Busy times, for sure. Linda tried to weasel out of meeting duty yesterday, I had to give her a talk about priorities,” says Anna. “Honestly, as if everyone doesn’t have enough to do.”

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you,” says March. There’s a pause while she swallows tea. “Jeremy Barnum asked me out for a drink last night at headquarters.”

  “What?” Anna gasps then chuckles. “You could do worse. He’s very put-together, and good-looking, too. Always easy to talk to, that one. What did you do?”

  “I went. Why not? It’s not every day that a man asks me out on a date, not anymore. You’re still young and beautiful, but one day you’ll understand how invisible an older woman gets.”

  “You’re still beautiful,” Anna says in an admonishing tone. March laughs.

  “For my age, maybe. In any event, we went for drinks. As you say, he is quite pleasant to speak with, and that evening was even more so than usual. Quite a charmer.” Alejandro glances at me with raised eyebrows, and I grin. “So much so that I started to wonder. And here’s where the story becomes strange.”

  “How so?”

  “I finally realized that I wasn’t speaking to Jeremy Barnum at all. Someone had taken Jeremy’s looks and was masquerading as him.”

  “What? Do you know for sure?”

  “When I confronted him about it, he didn’t deny the charge. And when I saw Jeremy the next day at headquarters, he had no recollection of meeting me the night before.”

  Anna whistles.

  “Do you have any idea who he was, or what he wanted?”

  “I don’t know what he wanted.” March sounds pensive. “But I have a shrewd idea of who it might have been. Fiona has been helping me uncover my past lives, and lately I’ve been making incredible progress. Ever since I had that episode on the boat.”

  “Dreams of your past lives?” Anna sounds eager.

  “Yes, that’s right. Have you been having your own?”

  “Yes, ever since I touched it. And I think I also know who was pretending to be Jeremy Barnum.”