“To spite me, perhaps,” he grumbled.
Did he seriously think I would buy that?
“Who despises you so much that they would spend €95,000 to spite you?” I asked, incredulous.
The air around my head compressed, and my ears rang. Whoa. Was Gordon hitting me with his magic?
That is of no interest to you,a deep voice boomed hypnotically in my mind.That is of no interest to you.The message echoed again and again.No interest to you…
I curled my hands into fists, shocked. Was Gordon trying to brainwash me of my suspicions?
I resisted the urge to chew him out. Better for Gordon to think I wasn’t onto him.
But, yeesh. Did he think I was stupid?
“It’s complicated,” he said, keeping up that pounding pressure.
I forced my facial muscles to relax. “I suppose it must be.”
And, whew. The pressure eased.
I wasn’t sure whether to cheer or frown. Being taken for an idiot was not a nice feeling.
A good thing Roux interjected, shifting the focus from me.
“I have my team following the painting and the vampires. That could lead us to the anonymous buyer, but tracing them via the online bidding system will be just as important.”
“I have my man on it now,” Gordon grumbled.
That meant hacking. Amazing, how casually he mentioned a crime.
I jutted my jaw, wondering how many times that casual tone had fooled me in the past. Then there was the matter ofhis man. Was the guy even human? And did he specialize in online crime, or did he double as a hit man?
I bit my lip, thinking of Roux, Henrik, Bene, and Marius. Could Gordon use them as a hit team too?
You need to watch yourself around them,Mina had warned me from day one.
I’d had a hard time taking those warnings seriously, but now…
No one spoke for a time, and I forced myself to think. Gordon might have a hidden agenda, but so did I. Priority number one was bringing Claudette’s murderer to justice. Priority number two was recovering my father’s painting. Both, I was sure, were related.
At that very moment, my sister and Marius were out stalking a mysterious, millionaire art buyer. Bene and Henrik were following ruthless vampires. That put them all on the front lines of danger, while I sat in my godfather’s luxurious apartment. Not exactly fair, but I could still contribute to our cause. Not through strength or stealth, but cunning.
I stood and considered the artworks hanging on the wall.
“As long as I can remember, Dad’s painting hung there,” I said quietly, pointing. Then I gestured to the other artworks. “I’m sure he would have been honored to know his piece hung in a collection as impressive as this.”
“The honor is all mine,” Gordon said solemnly.
He sounded like he meant it — truly — but I had given up on trusting my judgment. Instead, I focused on facts, such as the value of Gordon’s collection. It didn’t include anything as jaw-dropping as one of Monet’s water lilies, of course, butmany of Gordon’s artworks were worth five or six figures, like that Picasso sketch of dancing fauns or one of severalVue de la fenêtreby Matisse.
“Did my dad help you find any of these?” I asked, channelingsweet, clueless goddaughterinstead ofamateur sleuth.
“Many, yes.” He pointed. “The Miró, for example.”
“Constellations,” I murmured. “That’s always been one of my favorites here.”
It was also one of only twenty-three in the world. How on earth had Dad found it?
