What the fuck is so important that the Professor is snapping his fingers to get me here?
She looked up and down the sparse post-dawn streets before approaching the front door and trying it. It was open.
Her hand slipped inside her jacket. Maybe the whole damned thing was a trap.
Shay frowned and stepped inside. No one else was inside the bar except two men in the back: the Professor and Correk.
It was a trap, all right.
She narrowed her eyes and marched over to their table. “What’s he doing here? If this is about the damned egg, I’m not fucking giving it up, so waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn was a waste of everyone’s time.”
She dropped her hands to her sides. She was pissed at Correk, but she didn’t plan on shooting him. Not yet, anyway.
The Professor smirked. There were no empty glasses in front of him and no rosiness to his cheeks. Apparently, he had a limit to when he’d start drinking.
Correk raised his hand. “This isn’t about the egg. I come in peace. There’s no argument between the two of us. I came to offer help, and you’d be wise to accept it given what you’re about to do.”
Shay frowned and looked at the two men. She doubted they’d pull some long-play scheme just for the egg, and the Professor had seemed fine with her keeping the melting artifact of doom.
The tomb raider sat down reluctantly, her face twitching. “Help with what? What’s the Professor got for me?”
“Anzick. I know that the Demon Generals were seeking information on the site from your department head at UCLA.”
“How the hell do you know about that?” She rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “Don’t answer it. It probably ends with, ‘I’m the Fixer. Of course, I know.’ Well, Fixer, it doesn’t matter. The Demon Generals who were interested in the site only cared because of a new leader. I took care of that gentleman in a rather permanent way. Those bastards will stop caring about ancient history to artifacts soon enough, so it doesn’t matter if they got the coordinates from the old papers.”
“Coordinates. That makes sense.” Correk nodded slowly. “It’s a good thing more competent people haven’t come looking for that information.”
“I told you, I ended it. Those assholes aren’t gonna be artifact-hunting anymore.”
The Professor leaned back in his seat, observing them in silence.
The Fixer sighed. “Unfortunately, you taking care of their leader isn’t enough. I wish it were that simple. Unfortunately, the gang was even more short-sighted than you realize.”
Shay frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They were blabbering too much, trying to look like big men among their fellow criminals. Their new leader should have taught them the value of discretion.”
The tomb raider shook her head. “What am I missing?”
“My wife, Leira, is a bounty hunter.” A proud smile crossed the Light Elf’s face. “The original of the modern sort, really. James Brownstone is simply following in her footsteps.” He shrugged. “But anyway, an informant of hers recently coughed up some information to save himself.”
The tomb raider smirked. “Apparently, your wife rolls a lot like James.”
“She can be very persuasive and stubborn when she needs to be. She also shares his penchant for destroying Japanese gangster organizations.”
Shay nodded. “Definitely like James. So what did this informant say?”
Correk frowned. “That the Montana burial site is on the lips of a lot of seriously dangerous people in the dark underworld.”
“Why exactly? Dr. Weber says he thought it used to be a portal to Oriceran. Why would they care so much about that? It’s not the only site like that. If he’d proved that thirty years ago it might have been a big deal, but now it’s just more proof of something we already know.”
The Fixer nodded. “You’re right. It isn’t unique for that, but there are a lot of rumors that there’s a powerful and extremely old artifact buried there. Some people claim the magic of ancient Oriceran kings is contained in it. Others claim it’s a concentration of Rhazdon’s dark magic.”
Shay winced. Rhazdon was like Hitler, if he had been an Atlantean and controlled particularly powerful magic.
Correk leaned forward. “Others say it’s something else entirely, perhaps some source of magic ancient and complicated even by the standards of Oriceran.”
“Don’t you know what it is?”
“Being the Fixer means I have access to certain spells and books. It doesn’t make me omniscient.” He shrugged. “The point is, I think you should go after this artifact immediately and expect the unexpected. Watch your back. This isn’t going to be a simple artifact hunt, no matter what it looks like on the surface. I know that much.”
Shay eyed the elf. “If it’s so dangerous and important, why aren’t you going?”
“I’ve got limitations due to my situation, and some recent encounters would make it dangerous for me to go there. I’d rather not upset the status quo too much in such a volatile situation.”
The Professor cleared his throat. “Thirty million if you return the artifact, Miz Carson. You’ll need to depart today, and unlike the egg, this time we can’t let you keep it no matter what happens. Understood?”
Shay stared at the Professor. He wasn’t wearing his customary amused smile or smirk. Even Smite-Williams could be serious when needed. The lack of booze probably helped.
She took a deep breath. “Fine, you’ve got yourself a tomb raider.”
Someday, I’ll spend weeks planning a raid and take my time. Always in such a damned hurry.
Ten minutes later, Shay was on the road again, dialing Peyton.
“Is this revenge for earlier?” he whined. “I’m sorry I woke you up, but the Professor made it clear the time limit was non-negotiable.
Shay snorted. “This isn’t about revenge. It’s about money. “The Professor offered me a thirty-million-dollar job. Correk was there to give me extra info on it.”
“Thirty
