He shrugged negligently. “You have no proof.”
No, but Farida would. And the knowledge of it helped me stand my ground. He didn’t know about her magical camera. He didn’t know about Whit sneaking around the corridors. But my mind caught at the thought of my husband. He could be betraying meyet againand stealing as many artifacts as he could carry. Even now, he could be strolling out the front door, leaving us all behind.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, inching backward. Any hope of locating my mother disappeared. My plan would never work now. This night had been doomed from the start.
“What does any man in my position want? Information.”
“I have none—”
“Tell me where to find Lourdes and her known associate,” he said. “A Mr. Fincastle, I believe?”
By some miracle, I was able to keep my face neutral; Whit was rubbing off on me. How on earth did Mr. Sterling know about Mr. Fincastle? Well, I suppose they ran in the same shady circles. “I don’t know where she is, or him for that matter.”
Mr. Sterling tilted his head, as if he hoped to catch a lie in the tone of my voice.
“That’s why I’m here,” I said, insistent. “I have no idea of her whereabouts or those of Mr. Fincastle.”
“Ah,” Mr. Sterling said. “Which is why you bid on the item, hoping to know where to direct the funds.”
I flattened my lips, disappointment crowding close to my edges. Of course he would have thought of the same thing. “She gave a fake address,” I guessed.
“She’s no fool, more’s the pity,” he said. “Well, it seems you are of no use to me after all.”
I stiffened and took another step backward.
Mr. Sterling observed my trajectory and shook his head ruefully. “It seems I’m frightening you. Well, I suppose that can’t be helped. It’s a shame you think so, since we seem to have the same goal in mind. Think of what we could accomplish together.”
“You’re not actually suggesting that we work together,” I said, aghast.
“It would be the pragmatic course.”
“I would never help you,sir.”
“I can’t say that I’m not disappointed,” Mr. Sterling said. “But as a gesture of goodwill, perhaps I can return something of yours?” He slid off the golden ring and held it out for me.
I stared at it, my hands curled into fists. “It’s not mine. It belonged to Cleopatra.”
“But somehow it made it into your possession,” he said. “Finders keepers, as they say. Come, come. Is this your way of saying you wouldn’t like it back?” He started to slide the ring back onto his pinky.
I couldn’t let that happen. That was the last thing Papá had given me, and wherever he was, dead or alive, he wouldn’t want this vile man to have it.
“No,” I said quickly. “I do.”
Mr. Sterling paused and then once again held it out to me. “It’s yours, then.”
No part of me wanted to draw closer to him, but he had remained on the other side of the room. I crossed it and snatched the jewelry from out of his hand. The magic took a hold of me, at once familiar, and the taste of roses bloomed in my mouth. I felt as if I had become reacquainted with an old friend. The feeling crested, and it took several breaths for me to get used to the tingling sensation sweeping up my arm, making the hairs in its path rise on end.
Mr. Sterling motioned toward the door. “You are free to go, just as I promised.”
I fled without a backward glance.
Isadora waited for me on the other side, arms crossed, her foot tapping against the crumbly floor. When I stepped out, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Where’s your companion?” I asked.
“I shot him,” she said smoothly.
“What?”
