Page 20 of Icarus

Angus was dust blowing a granite piece that looked freshly sanded. He looked up in surprise as Icarus yanked the plug out of the wall.

Icarus took the figurine out of his jacket and slammed it down next to his father’s right hand.

Angus let him leave without a word. Rare as it appeared, Angus never seemed like he knew what to do with Icarus’s rage. He cowered before it.

Three

Bereft, Icarus curled into a tight ball, squeezing his eyes hard until sparks danced behind his eyelids.

His ceiling was a mess, half done, gray cutting roughly into the sunset oranges and pinks. He’d have to go back and get some primer to hide the mistakes and start all over again, and somehow that was upsetting him even more than tonight’s chaotic events.

Usually after a large haul they stopped for a month or so before picking back up again. Angus’s schedule varied and special opportunities were unpredictable but there were breaks. This would have been the beginning of one of those breaks, if they hadn’t had to deal with this forgery.

Now, it was up to Icarus to show up there on his own. Helios probably wouldn’t wait a month or two before assuming Icarus wasn’t coming back. He would maybe wait a few days at most before freaking out and narcing on him. Icarus knew he would in that situation. This entire situation was so frustrating and frightening. He didn’t like being so reckless.

“My Crucified Jesus, wash me with your most Precious Blood. Look upon me as the good thief, qui iuxta te in Calvariae cruce pependit. Peccator, pro sceleribus suis reddens; sed cognoscit numen tuum et veniam petit et quaerit: Iesu, memento mei cum veneris in regnum tuum.”

Icarus closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Thief problems, Thief’s prayer—but he hated to use it.

He shouldn’t be having to do any of this at all.

Brown

The statue was cleaned, wrapped, and shipped back with its authentication paperwork. It was accepted and placed back on display with the rest of the collection. Its minute differences in color, lacquer, and condition unchallenged and unaddressed.

Angus never accepted restoration jobs from that museum again, no matter the pay or significance of the piece.

When Icarus was older, he went to visit it as often as he was able. Until he couldn’t visit anywhere anymore.

Flush

Icarus took a sip of the strawberry smoothie Julian had brought him and winced. It was sweeter than he’d expected, and not in a good way.

“If you don’t want it, I can always take it back,” Julian snapped.

Icarus pulled the drink toward himself, guarding it possessively. “I’ll choke it down for you.”

Julian smirked. “I’m only joking, loser. You don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” he said, softer.

Icarus shrugged a shoulder and continued drinking it. It was Wednesday, two days after the most recent incident with Helios, and he had decided that today was the day that he would go back.

He had to assess what that would mean.

Everything about his approach to this break-in had to be different. He couldn't wear his gear: no silent socks, no jacket with hidden pockets, no tools, gadgets, or supplies, no mask—frightening as that might be.

His weapons . . . Icarus wanted to bring his baton very badly. But for all that it was just some stick, it was designed to break bones and legally classified as an assault weapon. He also had a knife that he mostly used for prying. But that would still be considered an armed break-in. Even rope to help with climbing might get sticky.

He had to consider worst-case scenarios, and the worst-case scenario for this would be Mr. Black catching him with Helios. It would be easier to be an apologetic friend of Helios’s who’d managed to sneak in. A normal kid. Someone who might be more of a threat to whatever situation was making Mr. Black trap Helios in the house than to Mr. Black’s rapidly depreciating art collection.

Even if Mr. Black had him carted down to the police station: wearing normal clothes and having nothing of interest on him would hopefully get him driven back home with a stern warning, instead of a swift meeting with Interpol.

He didn’t know what to do about the fact that he looked so much like his father, though. Mr. Black would instantly recognize him. Maybe he could—

“—carus? ICARUS.”

Icarus looked up from his notebook. His classmates were giggling.

“Do you have an answer or are you just keeping us all waiting for your own entertainment?” Mr. Harrison said dryly.