Hector gave her a curious look. “You don’t?”
Tamara, Ms. Harmony and Light, punched him in the arm. Either she packed more of a wallop than her size indicated, or she’d put a little magic behind it, because Hector winced. Then he winked at her.
“It’s a fancy box.” He tipped his head. “A portable vault.”
“There’s something inside?” Sylvie asked, peering intently at the rock. Hector nodded, and then she asked, “Do we have to break it open?”
Hector laughed. “No. You don’t have to break it. What’s inside isn’t a physical thing.”
“Thank goodness. That would have made me feel terrible.”
Hector’s gaze met Sylvie’s. “Exactly. And that should be enough to tell you it isn’t the right course of action.”
“Hm. If you think so,” she said with no confidence at all.
Were Hector and Sylvie having a moment? If Clarence were here, he would probably know—or have a well-formed and incorrect opinion. Whatever was happening, it made me uncomfortable. If I was honest with myself, I was jealous. But there was also that unanswered question: what exactly was a demon? So . . . maybe I should be uncomfortable?
Either way, Clarence’s clock was ticking down. “What you’re saying is that we shouldn’t trade the portable vault,” I asked, “because we don’t know what’s inside.”
“You most definitely should not trade the vault, because I know what’s inside.” Hector held the rock between his hands, and as he replied, his voice deepened to a rumble and his eyes began to glow. “Power.”
Everyone in the kitchen grew very still, even Tamara.
A collective sigh of relief swept the room when his eyes dimmed, and he said in a casual tone, “Your family gifts power through inheritance.”
Inherited power? I hadn’t heard of such a thing.
But then Hector set the stone down and rubbed his hands together. “I have a plan.” The glint in his eye, a mischievous twinkle, not a demonic glow, made me wonder if Hector held a little love in his heart for the chaos he’d mentioned earlier. Or at least a love of conflict. That seemed a demon sort of trait.
“Are you going to share this plan,” Tamara asked, “or wait for us to beg?”
“I would never make you beg, Tamara.” He arched an eyebrow. “Not in these circumstances.”
Which made me blink. Maybe I didn’t need to worry about Hector and Sylvie. Maybe Hector’s love life was fully booked.
I hoped.
Tamara crossed her arms, but there was a crinkle at the corner of her eyes that softened the gesture. “Spill already, demon.”
“Do they know you have the stone? Or are you theoretically still looking for it?” Hector asked.
Given how little he knew of the situation, that seemed an awfully specific question.
“Still looking,” Sylvie said. “But how did you know?”
Hector touched the rock with a finger. “Because this power is meant for you. That you have the rock, and it’s not been emptied of its gift, tells me you haven’t had it for long.” He pulled his attention away from the rock. “Here’s what we’re going to do. First schedule a trade for a neutral, but controllable location. You pick both the time and place. Also, ask for proof of life.”
Sylvie paled. “Can we do that? They said they would give us instructions in twenty minutes.”
“They want what we have, and what we have is unique,” Tamara said. “It’s a risk, but I think a good one. And it gives us more time to dig through Hector’s armory.”
I tried not to blink at the word armory, but most likely failed.
Lilac lifted her hand. “We can have the handoff at my place. It’s not exactly neutral, but it’s familiar to both parties.” She narrowed her eyes. “Given that construct they sent after me, they certainly know about it.”
“But what then?” I asked. “How do we actually get Clarence back, preferably in one piece?”
“Well, we give them exactly what they want.” Hector tapped the rock again. “We just make sure Sylvie has emptied it first. And if that fails, we get our hands a little dirty.”
27
Wednesday early afternoon
Getting Clarence back in one piece and getting our hands a little dirty were difficult for me to reconcile. Potentially even mutually exclusive.
Hector had confidence it could be done, but he also had less at stake. Clarence might be a hassle, he might leave noxious gases in his wake and steal my credit card with alarming frequency, but he also seemed to be hiding a few good qualities under all that fur. Maybe I’d find out what they were if he made it home.
Hector and I left the lady folk—his words, not mine—to inspect the armory. They stayed in the kitchen composing the perfect text message, while Tamara also worked on enchanting the phone. She wasn’t sure persuasion would work via text, but she was willing to give it a try.
Hector opened a huge wooden door to a set of stairs and gestured for me to precede him. I walked up the stairs thinking that a basement would be a more fitting repository for what I expected to be his stash of crossbows, maces, swords, knives—
“Wow. This is amazing.” The words tumbled out as I stepped into a beautiful private library.
Except it wasn’t just a library.
Books lined two walls from floor to ceiling—no small task, given that the room we’d entered encompassed the entirety of the second floor of the house—but there was also an assortment of gadgets. I spun around. And pottery. Jewelry, vintage clothing . . . I wanted to spin around until I’d seen everything. No, I wanted to touch everything. Read everything.
“It’s like a museum and a library.” Then I spotted a massive wooden table that Hector was obviously using as a workspace. And then the reading nooks with the window seats and natural light. “A museum and library and office. It’s heaven.”
Hector quirked an eyebrow.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. No offense intended, just a turn of phrase,” I rambled, still overwhelmed by the absolute wonder the space evoked. No, wonder held an edge,
