Spirit and Dust by Rosemary Clement-Moore

Author:Rosemary Clement-Moore [Clement-Moore, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9780375982712
Google: N9XdP-zu4LcC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 16156154
Publisher: Delacorte
Published: 2013-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

20

THEY BOTH TURNED at the sound of my voice, McSlackerson with shock and dismay, and Carson—his gaze lit with undiluted relief that brought a totally inappropriate flush to my face.

McSlackerson was easy to read. He must have realized the attempt to grab me had gone wrong and stalling Carson—why else would the thief still be there?—was no longer necessary. His hand tightened on his messenger bag and he raised it up high. “If you come any closer, I’ll drop this, and the jackal will break.”

Would it? Would he, after all this trouble to get it?

“What would the Brotherhood say?” I asked, drawing his attention.

His brows shot up. “Oh, you know about that?” He glanced from me to Carson. “You two do work fast.”

“Shut up,” growled Carson.

Cleo was studying the situation, walking freely around us, invisible to the guys. “I don’t think the statue will break. He wrapped it most carefully.”

“He wrapped the artifact up,” I relayed, relishing the flare of alarm in McSlackerson’s eyes and the complete lack of smirk on his face. “It might take a bump or two.”

Anticipation made Carson almost smile. Yeah, that looked personal, all right. We would be quite a team if one of us stopped keeping secrets from the other.

He launched himself after McSlackerson, who had started running. Carson caught up with him in a few long strides and took him down in a flying tackle. The bag fell out of the thief’s hand just a few inches off the floor.

The two guys, however, hit the ground with a bone-jarring crack and slid across the tile to crash against a pillar holding a Meissen vase. The pillar rocked, and I held my breath. This could be a bad day for vases.

“This is the most exciting thing that’s happened since I woke up in this place,” said Cleo.

McSlackerson heaved Carson off him, flipping him with an abruptness that smacked Carson’s head against the floor. It stunned him and gave the thief time to struggle to his feet.

He was going for the messenger bag, and I moved to head him off. But Carson was on it. He grabbed the wires leading to the alarm on the pedestal where they’d crashed, then, with a huge stretch, he just barely got a finger on the thief. But it was enough. McSlackerson stiffened and dropped to the floor.

“What did you do?” I gasped, staring at the guy as he lay twitching like a dog chasing rabbits in its dreams. “Did you just magically Taser him?”

“Something like that,” wheezed Carson, still on the ground. “You wanted to know if I could whammy someone.”

“But he still lives,” said Cleo, petulant with disappointment.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “But he probably wishes he didn’t right now.”

“Is the magician going to cut out the knave’s heart?” she asked hopefully.

“No!” I snapped, because I was a little unnerved by the way Carson had just dropped the guy in his tracks. “There will be no removing of hearts or any other body parts.”

“Tempting,” said Carson, standing up with a groan, “but there’s no time for that.

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