“Yeah, you should.” Shay shook her head. “But this only makes it clear that you need to decide, Peyton.”
“Decide what?”
Shay locked gazes with him. “You understand what’s gonna happen if your brother finds you?”
Peyton swallowed. “He’ll kill me.”
Shay shook her head. “Nah, always remember he’s too much of a pussy for that. He’s not gonna kill you. I’d have an ounce of respect for him if he had the balls to do that.” She sucked in a breath. “Instead, he’s gonna have you killed. What you need to decide is if you still want your family or if you’re done with them.”
“What are you saying, exactly?”
“I’m saying we can’t even begin to end this shit if you haven’t made up your mind about who your actual enemies are.”
Peyton heaved a sigh. “Screw the laptop. I’m going back to Warehouse Two to set up on my main computer and take care of these assholes.” He shuffled toward the door.
“Think about what I said,” Shay called. She picked up the receiver she’d been cleaning before. “In the end, this kind of shit always comes down to you or them.”
Her phone rang, and she sighed.
“What now?”
Shay pushed into the Leanan Sídhe, a frown on her face. It’d been a while since she’d last been in the pub, and her shoulders and neck tightened at the dense crowd. She wouldn’t have been surprised if some asshole strolled in someday and took a shot at the Professor and escaped because of all the drunks choking the place.
Smite-Williams always appeared at ease in the place, even trusting the owner enough to store some of his delivered artifacts for short periods. Magical defenses must have been set up that Shay couldn’t perceive.
Or maybe the old drunk just really liked the beer here.
The tomb raider maneuvered through the crowd, sparing an occasional glance toward the door. That was the other annoying part of meeting the Professor in the pub. She could almost never practice defensive seating since the man always sat in such a way where he could see the door, but her back was to it.
I swear, Professor, if I end up getting shot in the back, I’ll come back and fucking haunt you until you have to hire a witch to drive off my ghost.
The silver-haired man sat ruddy-faced in his usual booth, a happy smile plastered on his face. Father O’Banion didn’t usually come out during business, but it wouldn’t surprise Shay if he did.
She slipped into a seat across from the Professor and shrugged. “You said it was urgent, so I came.”
“Aye, Miz Carson. It’s urgent. Would you be available to leave for a job tomorrow morning? It’s in Paris.”
Shay leaned forward with a coy smile on her face. Sometimes the Professor shouldn’t have all the power.
“What if I said no?”
The Professor chuckled and took a sip of his beer. “Then you’d be throwing away millions of dollars and squandering some of my goodwill for no good reason.” He set his glass down and shrugged. “Everything is, of course, your choice, as always.”
“Not saying no, just curious about what would happen if I did.”
“I see. Do you want to hear about the job?”
Shay shrugged. “Hard to turn it down or agree to it if I don’t know what it is.”
“Aye, that it would be. Are you familiar with the Order of the Silver Griffins?”
“A little. They were supposed to patrol a lot of this magic shit back before all hell broke loose.”
The Professor gave a curt nod. “That’s a succinct way of describing things. Yes, before every random fool could wander the streets with a wand, the Order aggressively controlled unauthorized magic, including keeping many powerful artifacts stored away. They used to have a vault for magical artifacts in Chicago under the Water Tower.”
“Didn’t that place burn down twenty years ago?”
“It was destroyed, yes, but it was hardly an accident. Further details aren’t all that important right now, other than to note that among the artifacts that returned to circulation following the destruction of the Order’s vault was the Scepter of Dagobert.”
A waitress approached but turned away at the Professor’s nod.
“Scepter of Dagobert?” Shay echoed. “That used to be part of the French regalia, but it disappeared during the Revolution, right?”
The Professor nodded and gulped down some more of his favorite amber liquid. “Aye, but it’s not just a pretty stick, that’s for certain. It’s one of the oldest-known and most powerful wands.”
“But you mentioned Paris. It’s popped back up there?”
“Information has surfaced about a series of unusual occurrences on the streets of Paris, along with at least one sighting of something that resembled the Scepter. I believe that a very, very foolish witch or wizard has gotten their hands on it and are testing it out.” He chuckled. “Unfortunately for them and us, it’s too powerful. They’re likely already channeling more magical energy than can be safely handled, and the consequences and side effects might prove very severe.”
Shay frowned. “What kind of side effects?”
“The death of the wielder, for one.”
“Big deal. We wait until they finish getting off on the big wand and collect it from their corpse.” Shay shrugged.
“There’s a chance they might take Paris with them, either through direct use of the wand or a flare of magic from it.”
“Oh, yeah, that’d suck. I see your point.”
Shay might regret what she was about to say, but she also couldn’t deny its logic.
“What about bringing James in on this?”
The Professor’s brow lifted. “Calling him James now? I see.” A huge grin appeared.
Shay rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point is, you’re making it sound like some idiot kid is walking around with the magical equivalent of a nuke, and you’ve talked about them wandering the streets of Paris. This isn’t a tomb raid, it’s a hunt, and he’s useful for that kind of shit on occasion.”
The Professor chuckled. “Aye, the lad is, but he also has all the subtly of a
