Page 25 of Sacrifice
She’d not even heard footsteps, but a man now stood on the dais, his features lost to shadow against the bright backdrop of the window. It took her a moment to work out who it was.
“DI Michaels, you startled me.” The shock of his appearance had made her heart stutter. She squinted into his face.
Michaels regarded her silently, looking down from his place by the window with a kind of benign serenity that made Eve forget what she was doing. Light reflected from his hair and refracted into feathery rainbows in mid-air. She blinked it away.
“I was lost in my thoughts,” she managed at last. “Can I help you with something?” Her cheeks flushed.
Michaels didn't smile.
Detective Michaels was lostin his own thoughts.
Mortals were generally weak, simple creatures, driven by primitive emotions. In all his time walking among them, he had developed an instinct for the types: the ones who were generally good but couldn’t resist their desires, the ones who indulged their vices without remorse, and then those who took pleasure from others' pain.
Which type was she?He found her harder to read than most. She emitted almost nothing. It was peculiar.Why had the reaver saved her?She didn’t seem his usual type. Not a Barbie-doll sex toy or dim-witted adorer. Difficult prey. After the thousands of years, they had spent on Earth together, very little surprised him anymore.
She looked up at him, blissfully unaware of who she was dealing with.
“I called by the gift shop,” Michaels said, looking around, “They told me you’d be up here.Sacrifice to the Gods. I saw the sign.” He flicked one hand in the general direction of the entrance. “An area of special interest to you?”
He really hoped that it wasn't.
“I have a degree in Egyptology and ancient history.” She tipped her head to one side, looking very pleased about it. “My thesis was on the Early Dynastic Period.”
Not one of my favorite eras.Michaels thought, keeping his expression neutral, but his nostrils flared with disappointment. “Is that right?”
Eve grinned broadly. “We have a well-connected benefactor keen to exhibit his own collection. We're bringing in pieces from all over the world to supplement it.” She tapped at her clipboard. Michaels stepped down from the platform and stretched out a hand. “May I?”
She passed him the list, and Michaels ran his eyes over it. The Aztec Stone of Tizoc, Akkadian daggers and demon bowls. Items from cultures across the globe that were linked to sacrifice. He turned the page.The Crown of Ishtar.That was a name he hadn’t heard for a long time. He flicked his eyes to Eve. Did she even know what it was?
Eve looked back at him, suddenly much more interested. He felt her gaze, her mind pressing in on his. There was something latent in her, something she herself was not yet aware of. He reinforced his mental defenses, and she squinted at him in frustration.
“Do you usually take so much interest in drunk girls that fall into rivers?” she asked.
Michaels swallowed hard and refocused. “It’s standard procedure to follow up with a witness, just in case they’ve remembered any more details.”
“I’m not sure that I witnessed anything,” Eve said, and Michaels felt the push of her mind against his once again.
He gritted his teeth.Interesting. There was definitely something more to her. “Memories can take a while to surface after trauma,” he added casually. “Do you remember anything new?”
“No.” Eve continued to study him. “Are you sure we don't know each other from somewhere?”
“Unlikely.” Michaels broke eye contact and turned away.
He walked slowly to pass behind her as if examining the room. “How much do you know about this rich benefactor?”
“Well, he’s certainly generous,” said Eve, turning to watch him, “and in Mr Knight’s case, I’m sure that the subject matter itself is motivation enough. He's very passionate.” There was a touch of snippiness in her voice now and Michaels could sense the raise in her heart rate. He sighed inwardly.
“I attended a function at the Dorchester with him only last night. He's very committed to sourcing the right artefacts.” She blushed deeply and looked down, trying to hide it.
So, she’d been at the Dorchester too. Michaels felt his heart sink. Lucien was using her, and judging by the fluttering in her chest, winning her over. He’d have to intervene,but how?Revealing the truth about himself was forbidden. The celestial laws that bound them to this realm where clear on that. Her life would be forfeited, and no game Lucien was playing would be worth that.
He needed to find a way to protect her without revealing their secrets; a way to make sure that she kept away from Lucien without knowing why.
“Meet anyone interesting?” he asked, as if he already knew the answer.
Her features rose and fell, initial excitement giving way to a frown.
“Ah, everyone has a dark side,” Michaels said. “Especially the rich and famous. People aren’t always what they seem, Miss Areli.” It was taking all his resolve to stop himself from telling her to stay away. “And after the party?”
