We both stopped speaking as another sound cut through the air.
“That’s not a normal police siren,” I said. “That’s some kind of alarm.”
We hurried outside. The sound was much louder than it had been inside the shop, and on the sidewalk it was easy to determine that it was coming from the east, toward Central Park.
I looked at Berron. “You don’t think…”
“It’s her,” we both said. And we took off running, full speed.
Even when you have magic that lets you run flat-out without tiring, cold breaths still burn going in. Multiply that effect over a few blocks, and by the time we came within sight of the New-York Historical Society and the American Museum of Natural History, it was like I’d been inhaling Tabasco sauce.
The screeching alarm ricocheted off all the buildings as if it was coming from every single one of them. “Is it one of the museums?” I puffed. “Which one?”
“Which one has more jewels?”
“I mean, the Natural History museum is mostly animals, right?”
“Don’t forget the hall of gems and minerals,” he said, his shoes hitting the pavement in a steady run.
“Damn, I forgot about that.”
“But the other one has a gem exhibition right now, too.”
A milling crowd in front of the New-York Historical Society put an end to the debate.
“If she’s in one of her golden gowns, she should be pretty hard to miss,” I said.
We made our way through the crowd.
“What if they’ve arrested her or something? What am I going to do?”
“Hush. There’s a guard.”
We approached the entrance.
“Back, please. Stay back,” said the guard.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“I can’t give out any information on that.”
“Come on, man, this guy’s sister was in there. He’s worried.” I grabbed Berron’s shoulder, to inspire sympathy but also to hold Berron back in case he decided to grab the guard by the throat.
The guard’s face softened a little. “It’s an ongoing investigation, ma’am—”
“Did you see,” Berron said, his voice resonating so warmly it hummed the stone steps beneath our feet, “a woman in gold?”
Sweat appeared on the guard’s forehead. “I—uh—”
“We should be allowed to go in,” Berron pressed.
I silently hoped the man wouldn’t have a concussion from the sheer force of Gentry power Berron was bringing to bear.
“Yeah,” the guard said, looking slightly sick. “You two go on in.”
“Thank you,” Berron said. He touched his finger to the brim of his hat and gave the guard a charming smile.
The guard smiled back, but sweat dripped down his forehead.
