“I didn’t adopt you because I wanted to steal shiny baubles and old journals,” he said, his voice twisting with his annoyance. He stopped short then, as though realizing he’d let his emotions get away from him, and then started again, more measured this time. “This has never been about getting rich, girl. Each of the jobs you’ve done has had a purpose.” He opened the box. “I needed information, and that information led me to the various treasures you’ve managed to bring me.”
One by one he took the objects out of the box.
“You’re familiar with the Pharaoh’s Heart,” he said as he removed the newly stolen dagger from the bag. “But your first real piece was the Djinni’s Star.”
He took out a heavy necklace that Esta remembered taking from an Upper East Side jeweler four or five years back. In the platinum settings was a rare turquoise that seemed to hold an entire galaxy within its blue depths.
“And I’m sure you’ll remember the Delphi’s Tear,” he said, holding out an agate ring with a stone so clear and pure it looked almost liquid.
Of course she remembered. She was barely thirteen when she’d slipped it off the finger of a socialite sometime in the 1960s. It had been the first of the pieces she’d taken from the past and the first piece she’d stolen with Logan’s help. He’d been an unexpected—and not altogether welcome—addition to the Professor’s crew. Esta hadn’t been happy when Professor Lachlan had introduced Logan, the nephew of one of his contacts. She’d seen it as a sign that she wasn’t trusted enough, that Professor Lachlan didn’t think she was ready to go out on her own. She’d been even less happy when they’d all gone together, with each of them taking one of her hands to slip back through to the midcentury city. Logan had found the ring, and she’d taken it. And she’d hated him a little for being so necessary.
He’d won her over, though—too fast. She’d been young and didn’t have much experience with anyone outside the Professor’s small circle, so she didn’t know at first to look beyond his charm. She’d fallen for it, until she realized that everything was a game to Logan. It wasn’t that he was heartless or uncaring. He was as dedicated and loyal to the team—and to Professor Lachlan—as she was. But whether it was a shiny jewel or a never-been-kissed girl, he was only interested in the chase. And once the chase was over . . .
“Then there’s the Dragon’s Eye,” Professor Lachlan said, bringing Esta’s attention back to the present moment as he removed a glittering tiara from the box. ?At its center was a large piece of amber so flecked with gold that it practically glowed.
She’d found that piece in Chinatown sometime in the forties. She’d been fourteen, and it was the first big job they’d done without Professor Lachlan escorting them. By then she’d accepted what Logan was and had forgiven him for making her think he was something more. She’d even formed a begrudging friendship with him. Professor Lachlan needed and trusted Logan, and she trusted Professor Lachlan. So that was that.
“And then there’s the Key.” Finally, he pulled out the most familiar treasure of all—Ishtar’s Key. The rock was a strange, dark, opal-like stone that glimmered with a deep rainbow of colors. Set into an arm cuff that fit perfectly against Esta’s own biceps, it was the stone that allowed her to slip vertically through the layers of time. Her stomach sank when she saw the jagged line bisecting its smooth surface, the reminder of yet another consequence of her mistakes.
When they’d finally gotten back to their building on Orchard Street, Esta had discovered the crack. The only explanation was that she’d used it too much without giving it time to cool, but they didn’t know what it might mean for the stone’s power. She hoped it was a positive sign that even from across the room, its familiar warmth and energy still called to her.
Looking at the objects on the table was like looking at her own history, but she understood that there was more to the display than a walk down memory lane. Seeing the five objects there on his desk, she could tell there was a pattern she hadn’t previously understood.
Professor Lachlan ran his finger over the crack in Ishtar’s Key, pausing thoughtfully before he spoke. “These five stones were once in the possession of the Ortus Aurea. Back when the Order was at the very pinnacle of its strength, it kept them in a secure room called the Mysterium, a vault deep within their headquarters in Khafre Hall. Only the highest circles ever had access to them, but their existence was the very source of the Order’s power, until they were stolen.”
She looked up at him. “Stolen?”
Professor Lachlan opened one of his notebooks and flipped through it until he found a page with a yellowed piece of newsprint taped onto it. He turned the book so Esta could read the story.
“Back in 1902, a group of Mageus attempted to take down the Order,” he explained, pointing at the clipping. “They broke into the Mysterium and stole the Order’s most important treasures. But one of the crew double-crossed the rest, and the job went off the rails. ?The crew scattered, and the artifacts disappeared.”
She scanned over the faded column of print. “This is a story about a fire,” she said, confused. There was no mention of a robbery.
“Of course it is. The Order couldn’t let anyone know what had really happened. If word got out that they’d been robbed of such important treasures—by the very people they were trying to control, no less—they would have looked weak. It would have put them at risk for more groups to try retaliating. They hid their losses. They hid their failures. They pretended nothing had happened, that everything was the same.
“It worked, for a while at least. I’ve already taught you about the early years of the last century. You know how dangerous this city was for anyone with the old magic—the fires, the raids disguised as simple policing to protect the city. And there was always the Brink. Stealing the Order’s artifacts didn’t change any of that. But as the years passed, the old magic began to fade and be forgotten. New generations were weaker than the ones who had come before, and the city began to forget its fear.
“The Order never forgot, though. For years the highest members of the Order tried to find these pieces and bring them back together, but because of the work we’ve done, they’ve never managed to. Occasionally a piece would pop up at an auction, like the one at Schwab’s mansion, or rumors of another would surface, but since that original theft, these pieces have never been in the same room.” The Professor smiled, his old eyes sparking. “Until now.”
He didn’t have to tell Esta that there was something about the various stones that made them more than they appeared. Just as Ishtar’s Key called to her, the artifacts together seemed to saturate the entire space with a warm, heady energy.