Althea takes a laptop from the table and opens it, turning the screen to show me an enormous mansion.
“Grigore Voronov,” she sighs.
“Voronov,” I repeat.
The name gives me chills. I know him well, though not in person, just what I've heard about him. He's a regular client of my team. A millionaire with a weakness for stolen antiquities and a shitty temper.
“He's the current owner of the Arrow of Veritas,” Sylara explains. “Though he doesn't know what it really is. To him, it's just some kind of ancient relic, like so many others in his collection.”
“Wait, you want us to rob Voronov?” I ask incredulously. “That guy has military-level security. And I'd rather not tell you what he usually does to punish people, though it usually involves a chainsaw.”
“We're not going to rob him,” Sabina intervenes.
“Yet,” Sylara completes. “First, we need to verify a few things. Like the exact location of the arrow inside the house.”
“We think he has a vault in his master bedroom, but we need to confirm it.”
I'm starting to see where this is going, and I don't like it at all.
“And exactly... how are you going to get that information?” I ask, though I already sense the answer won't be pleasant.
The three exchange an uncomfortable look before letting the elf speak.
“Grigore hires a masseuse twice a week,” she explains. “He almost never repeats, but he always uses the same agency.”
“Who's going to pretend to be a masseuse?”
“You,” Sabina whispers, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
“Are you kidding me? I don't even know how to give a massage! There's no way I'm going in there. One thing is getting thrown in jail if you get caught and another is getting your arms and legs cut off. I'm sure some of you can grow them back, like lizards, but I can't,” I protest, shaking my head emphatically.
“Relax. It won't be as hard as you think,” the siren assures. “You just have to follow some basic instructions. The important thing is that you can explore his bedroom and find the vault.”
“And take pictures,” Althea adds, showing me a small camera disguised as a brooch. “We need to know what kind of security it has.”
Nervous, I run my hands through my hair, trying to process what they're asking of me. It's not that I haven't donerisky things before, but this... this is complete madness. If Voronov discovers me...
“That guy is scary,” I murmur. “He's not like the rich idiots I usually rob. He's dangerous. And besides, why does it have to be me? Any of you could do it. You,” I point at Sylara, “you're a damn supermodel. I'm sure he'd hire you as a masseuse without even thinking about it.”
“Precisely why,” the Kobold interrupts. “We shouldn't draw attention and the one who draws the least attention here is you. We don't even know human customs well.”
“Why doesn't the siren use her powers and force him to hand over the arrow?” I insist.
“My magic works better in humid environments,” she explains. “And that place is dry, I'd be at a disadvantage against many people.”
“What about the mountain of muscles?” I propose, looking at Althea.
“I'm not exactly subtle, little one,” she growls. “It has to be you.”
“I don't have a choice, do I? I mean, either I do it or Kaelisar hands over all the evidence he has against my friends to the police.”
“I'm sorry,” Sylara hisses, and for the first time I see something like compassion in her gaze. “If there were another way...”
Althea stands and sits next to me. Her closeness emits a strange warmth, though comforting, like sitting next to a bonfire on a cold night.
“We'll prepare you well,” she promises, placing a hand on my knee to squeeze it lightly. “You won't be alone. If something goes wrong, we'll come in immediately.”
“Yeah, you three against Voronov's security?” I ask, making a skeptical face. “That would be three against at least twenty and all armed to the teeth.”
