“There’s an old woman living above this store,” I lied.
“Pity we can’t warn her. It would look suspicious if we do.”
Steve scuffled around the store, leaving behind him a trail of gasoline that led to the counter. Matteo switched on his lighter, and a flickering flame materialized. He stared at it in fascination.
“Please don’t burn my store.”
“Will you do the job?”
“I… I can’t.” I couldn’t go back to prison. If I stayed outside, and out of trouble, perhaps one day I could connect with my daughter again. Get to know her. Perhaps I could feel those tiny hands holding mine. But if I started working for Breadknife again, there were only two ways it could end: with me either behind bars, or dead.
Matteo crouched to set fire to the gasoline.
“Boys.” Breadknife’s voice changed. It had an edge to it now. “Leave me and Ms. Vitalis alone.”
“Uh… are you sure, sir?” Matteo asked, straightening.
Breadknife whipped around, fast as a snake. “Never question me!”
Matteo nodded, his face suddenly terrified. He backed to the door and quickly left. Steve followed.
Breadknife turned back to me. “Normally, I would just burn this store to the ground, Lou. You know that, right?”
I nodded, dumb.
“But I need this job done. And you’re the only one who can do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cisternino, but—”
“What would your daughter say about it?”
The words died on my lips.
“What would her adoptive parents say, if they knew their daughter’s criminal biological mother lived just a few minutes away, and was stalking their adopted child, Tammi?”
My hands were smoldering, and I clenched them, trying to still the flames threatening to erupt. A fire right now, in the gasoline-soaked store, would be disastrous. How did he know? How had he found out? I had been so careful!
“We have only two options, Lou,” he said simply. “The first is that you do the job for me, and I forget the debt ever existed. In the other, the shop burns, and Tammi finds out her real mother is a criminal. Her adoptive parents will find out as well. I assume they’ll take legal actions to keep you away from her. After all, what parent wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect his child?”
My shoulders slumped, and the feeling of defeat made the heat in my hands dissipate. “Okay,” I whispered. “One more job.”
Magically, the smile reappeared on Breadknife’s face. “Fantastic!”
I took a moment to compose myself. Breadknife had shaken me to the core, but I couldn’t let emotions cloud my judgment. Steve had left the gasoline canister on the floor. I went over to it and screwed the cap back on it, taking long, measured breaths. When I felt like I was in control again, I turned to Breadknife and asked in an almost cheerful voice, “What do you need me to steal?”
Breadknife peered at me for a moment. “You’re an alchemist. Do you know what the Yliaster crystal is?”
I snorted. “Sure. It’s an alchemical legend, like the philosopher’s stone. Supposedly it can be used to store a soul just before a person dies. It’s just another story, a false hope for immortality.”
“I have an acquaintance who believes there is a box containing the Yliaster crystal in Boston.”
“Your acquaintance is an idiot.”
“I suggest that you don’t say that again.” Breadknife’s voice became steely, cold.
I was taken aback. I had never seen him care about anyone but himself. “Okay then. He’s not an idiot, but he’s wrong. Trust me, there’s no such thing.”
Breadknife shrugged. “But there is a box. Containing a crystal. It took me and my acquaintance a long time to find it, Lou. The box was lost when Troy fell.”
“The Troy? With Helen and Achilles and the wooden horsey?”
“That’s the one. Some think Odysseus himself had found the box and taken it with him—isn’t that rich? For centuries, no one had seen it. And then suddenly, there were witnesses. Claiming it had surfaced in a market in Beirut. Sold to its current owner. Stored in a safe. Inside a vault. Which is where you must break into. That’s what I want, and what my acquaintance wants. The box with the Yliaster crystal.”
“And where is this vault? Because I’m not keen on breaking into a bank. I mean… burglary is one thing, but bank robbing…”
“It’s not in a bank.”
I sighed in relief. “Good.”
“It’s in Ddraig Goch’s mansion.”
I blinked, my heart sinking. “Ddraig Goch… the dragon?”
“That’s the one.”
“But the thing is—he’s a dragon.”
“Yes.”
“Like, one of those fire-eating, ass-kicking lizards.”
“That’s what a dragon is, yes.”
“And you want to steal from it.”
“No. I want you to steal from it.”
I needed a drink, and it was just after ten in the morning. “Can we rob a bank instead?”
“This is the job, Lou. I told you, it’s a big one. I need the best.”
“You need the craziest.”
Breadknife’s smile widened, and he said nothing.
“No one ever stole something from a dragon and lived to tell about it.”
“Well.” Breadknife clapped his hands together, satisfied. “You always told me you wanted to be famous.”
Chapter Seven
On a one-to-ten scale of difficult-to-break-into, where one is the public restrooms of the nearby McDonald’s and ten is the earth’s inner core, the Ddraig Goch vault was a solid nine. Although Breadknife thought very highly of my burglary skills, I couldn’t do it alone. I needed a team for this one. A team of the very best, and only people I could trust implicitly.
Luckily, there was already one person I trusted more than anyone else in the world, and she was definitely one of the best.
Sinead Byrne was the topmost name in my favorites list. I texted her a quick message.
Where R U?
While I waited for a reply, I rummaged in my bedroom for my handbag. I almost never used it, but my backpack was gone, and I had to make do. Magnus, trying to help, wedged himself between my feet, whining inquisitively, and when I bent down to check under the bed, licked my face with rampant excitement. Trying to ignore his wet communication, I grabbed the strap of my handbag and yanked it out from under the bed, at which point Magnus grabbed it between his teeth.
“Magnus, let go!”
He growled and pulled at the handbag harder, naturally assuming I was playing “tug of handbag.”
My phone blipped and I let go of the strap, which resulted in Magnus somersaulting backward.
The screen read 101 Federal Street. 13th floor.
I glanced at Magnus and asked him in an excited voice, “Where’s the ball, boy? Where the ball?”