No Quest For The Wicked

As we went down in the elevator, she said, “Katie, be honest with me, are you really undercover here, or is this the only job you could get?”

“Oh, I’m definitely undercover,” I said. “I’m a terrible waitress. Let’s just say it’s a security situation.”

“Who do you work for, FBI? CIA? Homeland Security?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, but there are initials involved.”

“How did you go from being a marketing assistant to that?”

“My unique talents were recognized.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

As we entered the gallery adjacent to the courtyard, we nearly ran into Owen, who was heading in our direction like he was on an urgent mission. As soon as he saw us, he abruptly changed course, turning his back to us to look at a piece of medieval artwork. I kept walking Mimi toward the courtyard, then said, “Now, are you going to be okay?”

She took a couple of deep, long breaths, then nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“Okay, then, have a good event, and I’ll keep an eye on things for you.”

As soon as she was gone, Owen and I rushed toward each other. “I got it!” I whispered when I reached him.

“Yes!” he exulted, throwing his arms around me and giving me a big kiss. Then he took me by the arm and said, “We’d better get out of here.”

“What about the others?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder as he walked me toward the next gallery.

“We’re safer away from them now that we have the brooch.”

“My grandmother will never forgive you.”

“She will if I keep you safe. And to do that, we have to get out before anyone notices that the Eye’s gone.”

Before we even reached the next gallery, Mimi’s voice echoed through the museum, shrieking, “My brooch! It’s been stolen!”

Chapter Thirteen

“That was sooner than I expected,” Owen said, hurrying us into the next small gallery in the chain that led to the exit. It was full of religious medieval artwork, and I hoped some of that holy mojo would rub off on us. We needed all the help we could get.

We practically ran through the smaller galleries into a large, open space full of even more medieval art. It felt like we were running down the central aisle of a cathedral full of relics. Now we had a straight shot to the exit. Then there came a strange rustling, whooshing noise behind us, and I was afraid to look back, for fear of what I’d see. Owen didn’t look back, either. He was running full-speed while on his phone with Sam. “Yeah, we’ve got it and we’re coming out, so we’ll need cover.” There was a pause, and then he added, “Yes, I noticed.” He pulled me quickly along as he ended the call. “Sam says the old gargoyles are on their way.”

“I thought that’s what I heard.”

“Rod and Granny have them bottlenecked, but some got through. Sam’s sending help.”

I hoped help would come soon enough because the zombie gargoyles were now diving at us, and the only saving grace was that they were slow and clunky enough for us to dodge them. As we ran, I said to Owen, “Will the Knot protect me, even if I don’t have any magic for it to work with?

He ducked, then pulled me out of the way as a gargoyle dive-bombed me. “I don’t know, but something tells me you’ll find out soon.”

Now I could see the Great Hall ahead of us. We were nearly out of the museum. That made me wonder something … “Where are the puritans?” I asked. “You’d think they’d want to stop us from ruining their party by running away with the brooch.”

I should have known better than to say anything, since that was as good as summoning them. As soon as we came into the Great Hall, a group of men there rushed at us. They tried a magical attack first, obviously not realizing we were immune. The magic didn’t do much to us, but we were caught between them and the zombie gargoyles.

That’s when I learned that, no, the Knot didn’t protect magical immunes. The gargoyles were able to clutch at my clothing and hit me when they dove at me. “This is not fair!” I shouted as I fought to fend them off. “I get all the bad effects of this thing without any of the good ones!”

The puritans soon overwhelmed us and had us pinned with our arms behind our backs, just as the front doors of the museum opened and the guests began arriving. Instead of dragging us away or trying to take the brooch from us, the puritans forced us to stand there as the rich and powerful entered the museum for the gala.