She carefully hefted the ball, admiring the way it glittered in the light from the museum’s distant windows. Greed flooded her chest, filling her head with a buoyancy.
She declined against the gallery wall, allowing herself a moment to reflect on another well-executed plan. From petty cons and small-time robberies, to orchestrating the entire scheme herself…who would’ve thought so?
She snorted softly to herself.
He had once told her a heist of this magnitude would’ve been all but impossible for someone as unintelligent and lacking in talent as she was. That she’d be lucky if she didn’t end up rotting between the walls of a prison cell instead.
Though the words had long since faded into her memory, a flare of bitterness still stabbed inside her chest.
Victor’s attempt to backstab his fledgling partner hadn’t deterred her. Carrie had made sure of that…and made sure he regretted ever even considering the notion to doubt her.
She slipped the orb into her pocket and pushed off the wall.
The columns of moonlight shimmering from the ceiling cast cold white puddles across the floor. Carrie tiptoed around them, her movements at once effortless from practice and tightly wound from care.
She spotted the shivering of a shadow a moment before it unfurled into a patch of light.
She stepped sideways, her jacket swirling around her in a silent whirl.
At the same time, the silhouette perched above leapt down to the floor, landing with the lightest of thunks into a crouch.
He sprung upright with a youthful energy Carrie envied. Then he glanced around. Whatever appraising gaze he wore was lost behind his mask. “Nice place. Didya come to appreciate history?”
Carrie smiled. “You know me better than that.”
“I do,” he confessed before springing forward.
Carrie snapped backwards, narrowly dodging the boy’s foot. “I really would like to hang around, but—” She swiped her leg, forcing her opponent to catapult into a flip. “—I’ve got business to attend to.”
She dug a hand into her jacket and produced a slim remote.
“I’ve left a present somewhere in here. You have ten minutes to find and deactivate it.” She gently pressed her thumb into the activation button. “You can save the museum, or…”
Xavier stiffened.
“Go on,” Carrie goaded, tucking the remote away again. “You know better than to test my bluff.”
The boy’s jaw slid. “Someday,” he muttered.
Carrie’s smile lingered as he turned and sprinted out of the gallery.
* * *
Moonlight dribbled from the boarded-up windows of the warehouse; much like a rotted imitation of the museum Carrie had infiltrated several months ago.
Only unlike that night, tension wound tight across the woman’s shoulders now. She didn’t like the plaintive whimper of the wind as it ruffled the stagnant silence. She didn’t normally take anonymous requests…but her curiosity had gotten the better of her this time. The note had included too many references; too many hints she hadn’t been able to explain.
Against her better judgment, she had to know.
Her host hadn’t specified where she was supposed to meet them; but up above the floor, winking like a star across the forest of old equipment, a light shone from the overhead office.
Carrie found a set of steps crawling up the wall, mounted it, and pushed open a creaky door.
A plain desk shared the space with a wall of empty cabinets.
A lanky figure propped upon the desk chair, sprawled as comfortably as if he sat on an oversized sofa. His feet perched upon the desk, and his hands folded in his lap. The brim of a wide hat blocked his face.
Carrie softly cleared her throat. “You said you had a deal to offer me?”
The man angled his head a touch higher. “No pleasantries?”
Carrie smirked. “Just business.”
There might’ve been a smile glimmering in the shadows beneath the hat. The man skimmed his thumb beneath the brim. “I like it. Then again, I shouldn’t have expected you to have changed.”
He leaned back, simultaneously flicking away the hat.
His voice was soft as he uttered those four simple words.
“Do you remember me?”
Carrie couldn’t even entertain a moment of confusion—just the cold of shock, an electric lance of terror, and a deep, boiling rage.
Victor unfolded himself from the chair. “Don’t worry—though you’d owe it to me, I’m not here for your head tonight. Because, in fact, I do have an opportunity for you.” His smile widened, like a crack of moonlight hidden behind a thick veil of clouds. “To convince you of my goodwill, I even brought along a little offering.”
He stood and crossed the room, reaching for a swath of canvas covering part of the wall. He yanked it away to a limp figure hanging by its wrists.
Victor grasped a fistful of tousled hair and tilted the boy’s head up.
Carrie blinked into a youthful face, blank in unconsciousness. When the recognition clicked, there was no satisfaction—just that persistent suspicion and vibration of danger.
She stepped towards the boy. “Would you mind…giving me a minute to think this over?” She tacked on a snort, shielding the real reason for her hesitation. “Though I appreciate the gift, it might take a lot more than one peace offering to mend our trust.”
Victor released his grip and slunk back. “Of course. I’ll be just outside.”
Once the door had groaned shut, Carrie lifted a hand to lightly brush over Xavier’s cheek. His voice and slender stature had already given away his youth…but she’d never seen it so plainly as on his face.
Her stomach churned with indecision.
At once, a chance to eliminate her troubles…
Though she could never forget how much trouble Victor had been, back in the day. How close she’d come to utter ruin at the man’s hands.
Yes, Xavier was irritating, but…
Carrie heaved a sigh, then leaned close enough to whisper in the boy’s unhearing ear. “You better appreciate this, kid.”
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