“It was my grandmother’s ring,” David insisted. “Lovena shouldn’t have been hiding it. It deserves to be seen by the people of this town. This is our history.”
“We need to speak to your mother. Your aunt sent my father here to inquire about this ring. It’s very important.” I quickly described him, looking around to point to the man I’d mistaken for him.
“Oh, yes. The American treasure hunter. He was here yesterday. He talked to my mother and left.”
“Why did he leave?” I asked, fighting another wave of nausea. “Is he coming back?”
“He asked to buy the ring,” David said matter-of-factly. “My mother refused. It is part of the museum’s collection now. He asked to inspect it, which she allowed, and then they argued, because he made insulting claims.”
“What kinds of claims?” Huck asked.
“He claimed that the ring was not genuine. That it was a reproduction. Which it is not. It has been in my family for decades.”
I hated to break it to him, but “decades” was nothing. Vlad lived in this house more than four hundred years ago. If my father thought it was a reproduction, then likely it was. He was stupid about a lot of things, but dating artifacts wasn’t one of them.
Then again, Lovena was convinced there was sleeping power in this particular ring. She was certain this one was authentic. Had she been wrong? Or was my father mistaken? Who was I supposed to believe?
Thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump.
MyGod!What was that infernal noise? Was I the only one hearing it?
David gestured loosely with one hand. “Mr. Fox was rude. He needed a bath. And he insulted my family, so my mother told him to leave. And now I am askingyouto leave.”
“Wait!” I said, trying to figure out what to do. I believed my fatherthoughtthis ring wasn’t real, but he also pooh-poohed the idea that my mother’s death was due to that cursed crown she handled in India, of which I’d tried to convince him a hundred times. If she were still alive, she’d tell me to question—and document—everything. Just in case. So I set my satchel on the floor, opened it, and dug around for my camera bag. “May I snap a photograph?”
“Absolutely not!” the man said firmly. “No photography. This is a living museum. Did you not read the sign outside?”
I couldn’t answer. My insides were trying to exit my body. And that noise... that damned noise! It was as though I were hearing everyone’s heartbeats inside this room, all at the same time. If I concentrated, I could almost pick them each out. Huck’s especially. How could that be?
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Was I hearing my own blood inside my temples?
When magic is plentiful, it is easy to hear.
I slowly stood up from my satchel and stared at the ring. Impossible. Or was it? I took a step toward it and put my hand on the case.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
Dear God. It was... alive.
Terrified, I jerked my hand away.
“Theo!” Huck said firmly. Confusion and concern churned behind his narrowed eyes.
“The noise, it’s—” I started to explain.
But I never finished, because David was angry at me again. He raised a hand to summon the guards, so I quickly said in Romanian, “I’m sorry! We will leave the museum now. But I beg you, is there any way I can speak with your mother? Even for a moment? My father is missing. It’s urgent that I find him. Bad people are after him. Please.”
David hesitated, fidgeting with his cuff links. “Perhaps for a moment. But not now. She is giving a speech in a few minutes to officially open the festival, in front of the clock tower. Once it’s over, you can return here and ask for me at the ticket booth. I will try to arrange a meeting, but I cannot promise. She is a busy woman. Please do not barge inside without a ticket this time.”
“I understand,” I said, switching back to English. “And thank you. We’ll come back.”
He nodded rigidly and said something to the guards, who hung back but were clearly there to escort us out of the house. As we left, the thumping noise grew fainter and fainter, until I stood out in the snow-wet square, wondering if I’d been imagining it.
I hadn’t. I knew it as well as I knew my own mind.
I’d heard the ring.
