Chapter 19

NICOLETTE

After finding out I lost four days and the justified freak-out that followed, I decided I couldn’t be in my apartment anymore. I had four days of work to make up for, and there was a lot to do.

I strode into my office, passing Bernard’s desk on the way. “Is there coffee?” I asked over my shoulder.

“Here, boss.” He followed me in and handed me a macchiato.

I took it and sat at my desk. He sat opposite me.

“What have I missed?” I began setting up my computer.

“A lot. About the Malta excavation.”

My head snapped up, and I waved him to continue.

“The team finished the dig, and the site’s ready to be closed up.” He turned the laptop in his hands to face me and clicked on some pictures.

I sipped while I watched.

“Did they find any more artifacts?” I asked when the slideshow finished.

Bernard nodded. “Everything is being sent to the Superintendence of Cultural Heritage as we speak.”

He pulled out a binder. “There were a couple of museums that expressed their interest in the artifacts.”

He showed me a list. “I told the curators to send their letters of intent to you for approval. Oh, do you still have that mirror?”

I choked on my coffee. “No, I…I donated it to the Costard University Museum.” I murmured, casting a glance at my shoes. “And I guess they sold it. To some businessman.”

An image of Lucien flashed in my mind, and I groaned internally. In his suit, across the dinner table, in the elevator. No, he was Darien here. I needed to remember that.

“Well, that is one sought-after piece.” Bernard ruffled through some papers, scanning them as he did.

“What do you mean?” I leaned forward.

He glanced up at me and shook his head slightly. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Now that it’s sold.” He gave me a quick smile and went back to his papers.

“Bernard.” I waited for him to look at me before continuing. “Tell me what you mean. Did someone ask you about the mirror?”

He caught the seriousness on my face and sat up. “Uh, yeah. An agent was calling nonstop about it. Since you were unreachable, I said it wasn’t for sale.” He squirmed in his seat.

Darien wouldn’t be trying the same trap twice, would he? That couldn’t be right.

“What agent? Who did they work for?” I asked.

He began shuffling through the binder again. “The agent is Shirley Banks, of Wilkinson Properties and Holdings. Her client is a Mr. Ira Andretti.” He handed me two business cards.

The first card was Shirley’s, so I set it aside. The second had ~Black Horizons Institute of Research~ in bold lettering on one side. The other side showed that Mr. Andretti was its owner.

It looked pretty legit, so I wondered what his interest could be in the mirror. And how he’d found out about it. Did he know it was magical? My interest was officially piqued.

I set his card down and looked at Bernard. “What do you know about this Ira Andretti? Did you check him out?”

“Actually, I did. Both he and his agent were persistent. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. She even came here in person to demand an appointment to see you. That’s when I turned her down for good.”

I waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, I said, “So what did you find out about him?”

“Oh, right. Well”—he turned the page in his binder and scanned it—“I didn’t find much. Only that he owns Black Horizons, which is a research company. A laboratory.” He looked up at me.

“That’s it? Nothing else?”

He shook his head. “That’s all I could find. He has almost no footprint on the Internet. No virtual presence.”

I leaned back in my chair. “That’s rather unusual, isn’t it? So is he a collector?”

Bernard shrugged. “I’d assume so. Why else would he want a random old mirror?”

That was the million-dollar question. And I had to find out the answer. No one besides Darien and me knew about the mirror. Or so I thought.

I pursed my lips. “I want you to call him.”

His eyes widened. “Call him? Why? The mirror is gone.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

Bernard looked at me, his face asking for more information.

“Please, Bernard, just do it. I want to meet with him.” I handed him back the business cards and turned to face my computer. “Call him now, please.”

Bernard nodded, picked up his laptop, and walked to the door.

“And Bernard? See if you can arrange that meeting for first thing tomorrow, alright?”

He nodded and smiled, then walked out the door.

I went onto the Internet to do some digging of my own, but Bernard had been right. This man had no digital life. He was a ghost. So I gave up and went back to my emails.

I didn’t look away from my screen until Bernard poked his head back into my office.

“Hey, boss. I’m leaving for the day. That meeting is all arranged for you tomorrow. You’ll see it in your calendar.” He smiled at me and waited for any last instruction.

But I had none. “Thanks, Bernard. Goodnight.”

I looked at my screen, and my eyes started to swim. It was time to go home too.

I shut everything down and locked up the office as I left.

When I was finally home and in bed, I knew that despite my exhaustion, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Tomorrow, I was meeting a ghost.