“Yesterday. I got the short list this morning.”
The short list wasn’t really a list. It was more like a mini-collection, comprised of items that needed authentication, closer examination, or possibly restoration. Semele knew the manuscript would be one of the works singled out. She had logged the piece with several question marks about its origin and date.
“Back table.” Cabe motioned. “But I thought you weren’t on the Bossard Collection anymore.”
“I’m not. I just need to take a quick look at something.”
She headed toward the sink and was washing her hands when her cell rang—her mother, again. There was also a voice mail from Bren, no doubt fishing for the reason behind her emotional withdrawal this morning. She saw Theo had left her a message too and quickly played it.
“Semele, Mikhail’s insistent that Fritz handle the auction. It’s not ideal, but he feels it’s the best course. I’d still like to meet when I come to New York next month.” He hesitated. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
Semele’s pulse quickened and she listened to the message again. Theo wanted to see her. She had no idea what to make of that, and she would never find out—she would already be in Beijing when he came.
She put her phone back with a little sigh and washed her hands once more for good measure.
There were twelve pieces on the back table, including Ionna’s manuscript. She carefully opened the leather binding to examine the first leaf.
“I agree,” Cabe said when he saw what she was handling. “That one’s quite the stunner. I’m doing a DNA rundown.”
“Good. I was hoping you would.”
DNA testing had become one of the most precise methods of dating a work, though there were several handicapping factors. Usually the parchment was made of an amalgamation of animals’ skins from different time periods, which made pinpointing its exact origin and date difficult. Handwriting analysis would always remain a vital tool in the process; unlike DNA testing, it didn’t require samples.
“Call me when you have the results.”
“Sure. But why?”
“I’ve been reading it,” she confessed. He gave her a quizzical look.
“I made a digital so I could hone my translation skills.” She wanted to downplay her interest, and this wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t done a translation in years. “I think some of the leaves are missing.”
Cabe shrugged. “The translator will find out soon enough.”
Semele frowned. The idea that another translator would be reading Ionna’s story bothered her. But in less than a month a buyer would acquire the manuscript, and Semele would move on to another collection in another country. For the first time the thought made her weary.
She leaned down to study the binding where she had stopped reading this morning and saw the evidence.
Pages were missing.
They had been carefully cut out right at the spine, where the leaves were stitched. She leaned even closer and discovered that quite a few had been removed.
“What are you doing?”
Raina’s voice made Semele jerk upright. Raina was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips.
“Hey, Renie,” Cabe interjected.
Semele looked at him. Did he just call her “Renie” and smooth out his stained T-shirt? Semele looked back to Raina and noticed the slight flush on her face. She would have laughed if she wasn’t so irritated.
Semele stepped away from the table. “Leaves are missing from one of the Bossard manuscripts. It’s an important piece.” She tried not to sound like a thief caught in the act. Why should she feel guilty for looking at a manuscript she had authorized to be transported here in the first place?
“Mikhail gave you the rest of the week off,” Raina said, crossing her arms in that disapproving way of hers.
Semele stared at her without blinking and forced herself not to mimic her gesture, though she desperately wanted to. She didn’t say a word, her spine stiff with anger.
“Fritz has already noted that some pages are missing and informed Mikhail and his client. He’s very thorough,” Raina said in a clipped voice.
Semele caught the subtext—and you’re not. She decided to make an exit before she said something she would regret, and headed for the elevator. “Excellent. Ciao, you two.” On her way out she shot Cabe a stern look, which he purposefully ignored.
As the elevator doors closed, she caught a glimpse of Raina and Cabe sharing an intimate kiss. The sight of them felt like a punch in the gut, and it only reinforced the distressing thought that was running through her mind: she was about to lose her friend.
Message to VS—
Manuscript has missing pages.
Reply from VS—
Was it him?
Message to VS—
Unclear. Will dig deeper.
Reply from VS—
Dig quickly. Assemble a team.
All her life Elisa had received premonitions and she believed those visions were gifts from God.
She attended mass every day at the Golden House, a magnificent church that surpassed every building in Antioch. Built in the shape of an octagon, it had a gilded dome roof decorated in gold, brass, and precious stones that towered in the sky like God’s crown.
Elisa’s father was a great physician in Antioch, and last year Elisa had married one of his pupils, an earnest young doctor named Mathai. Mathai had loved Elisa from afar for years before gathering the courage to seek her hand. His mother ordered him more than once to choose a different girl. “She cannot bear a child. Look at her. She will snap in two!” she proclaimed with a grim shake of her head. A woman who had mothered four sons felt entitled to say such things.
Fortunately, as the middle child, Mathai was often overlooked. So when he decided to marry Elisa, his mother finally relented. It was Elisa’s father who took issue: he thought Mathai weak and doomed to mediocrity and had hoped for a better match. There had always been tension between the two men. Only Elisa knew she could convince her father to let them marry.
One day, when she was helping her father clean his medicine box, she confessed she had foreseen her future as Mathai’s bride. Not knowing how her father would react, she rushed to assure him she had also foreseen how, over the years, Mathai would stay dedicated to his studies and rise in prominence. More importantly, she promised that Mathai would treat her like the most priceless treasure in the world.
Her father listened while polishing his medicine vials, never once looking at his daughter. Even if he hadn’t believed in his daughter’s gift—which he did—he had never been able to say no to Elisa, his gentle daughter, whom he adored above all else.
He expelled a soft breath and nodded. “So it will be.”
*
At the end of their first year of marriage, Elisa confided in Mathai about her gift.
“Husband?” she called to him softly as he was leaving to go to her father’s school.
Mathai turned around and smiled at the sight of her sitting at the kitchen stool, her stomach just beginning to show with child.