“I thought you said you had a system set up at Warehouse Five to handle it.”
“That’s not what I mean. After what I saw, no one should get their hands on this thing, so I’m gonna put it somewhere that’s safe. And, yeah, that’s Warehouse Five, and not in the hands of some Light Elf with delusions of fucking grandeur about how he’s the magical FBI for the whole damned world.”
“That sounds good and all,” Peyton began, “but can’t he magically track it or something? You’ve done a good job of hiding the warehouse from me, but I rely on technology, not magic.”
Shay changed lanes and zoomed past a Currus. The magical autonomous taxis always vaguely annoyed her.
I’m too much of a control freak to give up my control to some spell.
“Don’t worry about Correk tracking shit,” Shay explained. “I recently upgraded Warehouse Five, including paying for serious magical scrying protection. Half the reason I was so interested in this job was that I spent a lot of money on those upgrades, both technological and magical.”
“Okay, fair enough. What about the client, and the twenty million? If anything, it sounds like you need it more than you normally do.”
The tomb raider snorted. “Fuck the client. Nothing good will come of anyone having this thing. I’m not letting this shit back into circulation, even if I piss off Correk and the client.”
“I can understand that.” Peyton blew out a breath. “You’re going to take a hit to your rep, though, and what should I tell the client?”
“You tell the client we lost it. I’ll survive the hit to my rep. It’s not the first time Aletheia has failed, and I’m guessing if what happened to the Hollingsworth guy gets out, a lot of people won’t even want to try to find the egg.”
The hacker whistled. “I’m surprised.”
“By what?”
“It’s just hard to figure you out sometimes. I think we’re good friends, but someone makes a casual joke, and you pull out your gun. Then I think I don’t know you at all.”
Shay snorted. “A few pointed reminders never hurt anyone.”
“Sure. It’s just interesting to see there’s a line that you won’t cross, even for twenty million dollars. I don’t know if the Shay I originally worked for would have cared.”
“Spare me the psychoanalysis, Peyton. You don’t know as much about me as you think. But who the hell knows? Maybe there are more than a few lines that I won’t cross now.”
An hour later, Shay sat with her arms crossed across from Correk and the Professor. The latter wore a soft smile as he sipped at his beer. She wasn’t sure if he was leaving the anger to his Light Elf friend or if he didn’t care as much.
Correk shook his head. “Did you just say what I think you said? I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it’s jet lag, and you’re confused. That has to be the explanation.”
No, you didn’t just go there, elf. It’s time to remind you just who the hell I am.
Shay snorted. “Unless you’re deaf, then yeah. You can’t have the egg. I don’t give a shit if you’re the Fixer. In case you forgot, I agreed to share information with you, and I’ll recover artifacts for you if you pay me, but you don’t tell me what to do. I don’t work for you. I only fucking work for me.”
Correk scrubbed a hand over his face. The Light Elf grimaced so hard he looked like he was in pain. “This isn’t about trying to order you around, Miz Carson. It’s about the danger associated with that artifact. It needs to be in good hands for your personal safety and the safety of everyone else.”
The Professor glanced at the two but said nothing. He took another small sip of his beer and offered her a wry smile.
Shay scoffed. “I thought I’d already proven it to you, but apparently you need a reminder. I’m not a fucking idiot, Correk. I know how dangerous it is. I’ve witnessed it firsthand. Poof, insta-pool.”
He frowned. “Then why not make sure it’s in safe hands?”
“Because it already is.”
“Whose?”
Shay narrowed her eyes. “Mine.”
The Fixer blinked. “Wait. You didn’t sell it?” More than a little surprise colored his voice.
So much for trust, you arrogant asshole.
The tomb raider glared at him with so much anger she was surprised he didn’t wither and melt. She concentrated on the idea as if she could bring a lethal gaze into existence through sheer force of will. Unfortunately, the Light Elf didn’t melt.
The Professor let out a loud laugh. A good swill of beer followed, and he shook his head, looking amused and not a bit angry or confused.
He shrugged. “I’m sorry, old friend, but I think Miz Carson answered your question.”
Correk stared at the Professor like he’d lost his mind. “You can’t possibly think it’s okay?”
“Aye, I do. I think the egg stays with Miz Carson. For now. Some enemies are not worth making.” He winked.
“Is this about James Brownstone?”
The Professor shook his head and nodded at Shay. “Nope, it’s about Miz Carson. She’s just as lethal and apt to…make a point with those who have wronged her.”
At least someone at this table understands I’m not to be fucked with.
Correk rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t a game. This is more serious than you can possibly imagine.”
Shay tried to put even more irritation into her look. “No one fucking said it was a game. As I told you, I’ve seen the egg in action. Why do you think I’m not selling it? I’m giving up a lot of money, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop acting like some idiot who doesn’t understand what’s going on.”
“You have to understand that it’s a lot worse than just the possibility of melting people.” The Light Elf shook his head and looked down. “The energy in that egg can never be let out.
