Map of Fates (The Conspiracy of Us, #2)

I frowned at him. “Well, it’s the best chance we’ve had for a long time, and I had to trick a very nice family into thinking I might marry their son to get here,” I said, “so I’m going to give it my best shot. Now what’s the plan? Is there an unlocked door?”


The group of Indian men had followed us across the street and were edging closer. Stellan grinned at them. He called out something in what must be Bengali, and a few of them responded, then did those side-to-side head shakes I’d seen everyone here doing. Stellan pulled a wad of money from his pocket, peeled off some bills, and pressed them into the hand of one man, who counted it and hurried off, while the rest of them continued to gawk at us.

I raised my eyebrows.

“He’s letting us in,” Stellan said simply.

“I thought you said you had a plan to get us access,” Jack said witheringly.

“This is the plan.” We followed Stellan through a propped-open iron gate into a wide courtyard. “Everyone here has a cousin or a brother-in-law or a barber who can make things happen. Trust me.”

I shook my head and looked around. The inner courtyard was impressive, with double rows of arches surrounding an immaculately manicured lawn and hedges. “Yeah, this place looks like a complete mess,” I said sarcastically.

“Just wait.” Stellan stubbed out his cigarette and held up a hand to wave at a different man, who’d just opened a door at the far end of the complex. “After you,” he said.

The guy let us in, and Stellan asked him something. He shrugged and answered, pointing down the hall, then left and shut the door behind him, plunging us into a dark, damp quiet.

“That was sudden,” Stellan said. “He said he has no idea if there are any Napoleon artifacts here, but that if there were, they’d probably be this way. He also said we shouldn’t get caught, because he’ll pretend he doesn’t know how we got in and then we’ll go to jail for breaking and entering.”

“Wonderful.” Jack clicked on a flashlight he must have stashed in his pocket and handed me another, and we made our way up a set of dingy steps. We emerged into an impressive gallery formed by arched wooden beams that loomed high overhead. Down the middle of the gallery marched—“Elephant skeletons?” I said.

They were bathed in moonlight from the windows above, and it wasn’t just elephants. Deer, giraffes, and smaller animals whose bones I couldn’t identify, all in a macabre parade. “I don’t think this is the gallery we’re looking for,” I whispered.

Just then, a door slammed shut at the opposite end of the gallery. I scrambled one way, pulling Jack after me, and Stellan ducked behind a cabinet in the other direction. Unfortunately, Jack and I had nothing to hide behind but the elephants themselves.

A flashlight beam swept toward us. Jack hit the floor flat on his stomach behind the elephant skeleton’s platform, and I started to do the same but it was too late. The guard was looking this way. I froze just behind the elephant’s rear leg.

The flashlight beam hovered for a moment. Then the sound of footsteps receded.

I let out a breath as Jack jumped up, and we tiptoed across the room. Stellan was already heading down a connecting hall, gesturing for us to follow. “Apparently there are night guards on patrol,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.

We made our way into a long gallery with dim security lighting, and for the next hour, we scoured rows of glass cases, first in this room, then in a second, and I grudgingly admitted that Stellan had been right about the mess. It reminded me of the thrift store in Lakehaven where my friend Lara and I pawed through the cases for old jewelry. This was less fun—and took forever, especially since each of us only had one little flashlight. Even so, it felt amazing to finally be doing something after weeks of feeling powerless.

As far as I could tell, though, nothing we’d seen so far was connected to Napoleon. And none of the jewelry looked even a little like the bracelet we had.

Jack joined me at the end of the rows we were searching, and shook his head.

“Let’s try the next gallery—” I whispered, but stopped.

Over his shoulder, there was movement at the far end of the gallery. “Stellan,” I hissed under my breath, and yanked on Jack’s sleeve. We crouched behind a display case and I had to bite my lip to stay quiet when an unidentifiable insect scurried across my foot. But after a few seconds, no footsteps came into the gallery and there was no flashlight beam, so it couldn’t have been a security guard.

I stood up, shaking off thoughts of cockroaches, and Stellan emerged from behind a cabinet a few feet away. “I guess I’m seeing things,” I whispered. “Sorry. Do you know where the Alexander artifacts are?”

Stellan led us down another hall.

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