“It fits you.”
Shay snorted. “It makes it sound like I’m a delivery girl.”
“Technically, you kind of are. You go find something, then you deliver to the client.”
“But I don’t deliver fucking pizza.”
“Okay, okay.” Peyton muttered something under his breath Shay couldn’t make out over the phone.
“How about Aletheia?”
“Aletheia? As in the Greek Goddess of Truth?”
“The one and only. Unless you want to go Roman?”
“Nope, the name sounds good.” Shay smiled, slowing down at a light. Goddess of Truth. She liked that. Goddess of Truth and Asskicking, but no Greek goddess covered both of those.
“See, I’m not just a well-dressed techie.”
“Things are really going to break out from here. When I finish this job, I can finally land a meeting with Smite-Williams.”
“What if you can’t finish the job?”
Shay scoffed. “I don’t fail to finish.”
“You never failed in your old job?”
“Came close a few times, but I don’t walk away. Half measures add up to nothing. I do what I’m paid to do. Set up a boiler plate contract. We can’t wait on this one. Need to get there before whatever douchebag patrol gets there first.”
The next morning when Shay arrived at Warehouse Two she noted the presence of yet another cubicle room. The invasive species was growing.
“Good morning,” Peyton called from the office, a bright smile on his face. “I can’t believe that guy hired you so quickly. Does my cool nickname have anything to do with it?”
“Or Greg vouching for me.” Shay shook her head. “This one reeks of magic, though. That’s promising for my rep.”
“Oh? Tell me the details, woman.”
Shay gave him a cold stare.
“Okay, uh, tell me, please?”
Shay moved to Peyton’s cubicle living room and took a seat. “Here’s the short version. There’s an island off the coast of Nova Scotia called Oak Island. I’m already liking the location.”
Peyton joined her, sitting in a chair across from her. “Why the warm and fuzzy over the locale?”
“Fewer murderous cartels running around in Canada, let alone Nova Scotia.”
“If you leave out the eighteen-million-dollar maple syrup mafia. Some pretty murderous Mrs. Butterworths.”
“I’ll make a note to steer clear of pancakes while I’m there.”
“I’ve confirmed there is another group on the move, and they’ve brought along some nasty help. A bunch of thugs calling themselves mercs.”
“A little hired help doesn’t bother me. If I kill someone like that, at least I’m not gonna end up with half a country on my ass.”
Peyton snorted, sitting cross legged in a chair. “What’s so special about Oak Island?”
“Back in 1795, a teenage boy claimed he saw some mysterious lights coming from the island. That was the great era of piracy. Treasure was being squirreled away all over the map. This kid heads over and finds a circular hole cut into a rock wall, big enough for say, a thin man with a peg leg to crawl into it. He comes back with his crew, figuring it might be pirate treasure and they go to town on it. They find evidence that the original hole was manmade but jack shit for all their work.”
“Not exactly a stunning example of treasure hunting.”
“There’s more. A legend grew about the place.”
“Rumors run amok.”
“Pretty much. Other people came to try their luck and, eventually years later, 90 feet down from that original hole, some treasure seekers found a stone with mysterious symbols on it. No one could decode them, but that didn’t stop the people who found it from keeping it from the public. People spent a lot of time digging in what came to be known as the Money Pit, convinced they would find some pirate booty. People dug so many holes and shafts to find treasure and to drain out water from looking for treasure that the original site’s long since lost.”
“But you think you have a good idea where it is?”
Peyton flipped his hand back and forth in the air. “Our client provided some survey data that gives me a good idea, yeah.”
“My plan is to investigate, secure the site and excavate if necessary.”
Peyton scratched the day-old growth on his chin. “This seems pretty straightforward, except the whole mercenary and weaponry thing. But no one’s found anything in over two-hundred years?”
“Lots of people have searched, a few have even died, but no one really found anything important. Occasionally someone claimed they found a gold coin or some shit like that, but not much was really confirmed other than coconuts and that stone. Hell, even Teddy Roosevelt took a swing at the place.”
“Coconuts? Aren’t those on islands anyway?”
“Not Canadian islands.”
“Good point.” A confused look spread over Peyton’s face. “Another gold hunt, then? Pirate treasure. Arrrrgh… Someone had to do it.”
Shay grinned. “I’m not after the gold this time. The important thing here is that mysterious stone.”
“What about it?”
“The symbols aren’t so mysterious.”
Peyton leaned forward, his forehead wrinkling. “They aren’t?”
“Our client came into possession of the original stone some years back. They have a large collection of curiosities. He’s learned a few things about them.”
“Anything we can use?” Peyton rested his chin in his hand.
“The reason no one could translate them or figure out what they mean is because they belong to a language that never existed on this planet. They’re from a lost Oriceran language.”
Peyton lifted off his seat in excitement. “The mysterious lights?”
“I’m guessing someone from Oriceran was opening a portal, which means there’s a good chance there’s still an Oriceran artifact there. The client’s information said there should be another matching stone.”
Peyton looked away for a moment, lost in thought. “I wonder what it does.”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Only care about the million and the boost to my rep.”
“You honestly don’t care about a magical artifact? Untold powers?”
Shay gave a hard shake to her head. “Look, my policy is to only use tools I understand. An artifact with instructions in a language I don’t understand doesn’t strike me as something I want to mess around with. When the day comes, and I find a magic trinket that’s worth more to me as
