I can contribute too,my own words echoed in my mind.
So did Mina’s sharp rebuff, and the awkward silence that followed.
How?
A question answered by the cold, hard truth. I couldn’t contribute.
Even Mina’s well-intended comments offered no solace.There are a million things you’re better at than I am…
Sure, like decorating theater sets. Getting back on my feet after nasty breakups. Hearing background noises in paintings.
Not exactly a résumé to gloat over.Mopewas more like it, and over the next half hour, that was what I did.
Then a Mercedes screeched into the hotel parking lot, and Henrik ran in.
I jumped to my feet, waving him over to my corner of the lounge.
“Henrik, what’s—”
“Where are the others?” he cut in.
I scowled. Right, the others. Thecompetentones.
I slid back into my seat, even more deflated than before.
“Grepper left, so they headed to the villa,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“They what?” Henrik barked.
The receptionist at the hotel desk looked over, then away.
“They’re going in for the painting,” I whispered. “Wait. What’s wrong?”
He snorted. “Where do I begin?”
He went on immediately, flooding me with everything he’d discovered about Alexandre Ernaux’s coven.
“We have a day’s head start on them,” I said, dismissing his warning.
“Says who?”
“Gordon.”
Henrik stared at me with pinpoints of red in his eyes. The air around me grew heavy, and a faraway ringing sounded in my ears.
The bastard was trying to enthrall me, wasn’t he?
I smacked the table. “Cut that out!”
“The coven is on its way now,” he insisted. “You don’t believe me?”
I crossed my arms. “I believe people who convince me, not jerks who try to enthrall me.”
“I was merely trying to speed things along.”
I snorted. “Well, that’s the thing about trust, Henrik. It takes time and consistency. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to watch the road.”
I said it all haughtily, as if I’d actually chosen that job.
