Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong
Whumplet by @whumpadoodle
“I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Quinn shrugged. “We don’t have to like it, we just have to get it.”
Lucas sighed. “You’re right, as usual. But why? Why do we have to get it?”
“Did you fall asleep during the briefing again?”
He cut his eyes to the side. “Hey, it’s not my fault Fletcher is so boring, he could make the SuperBowl sound like the stock exchange.”
Quinn giggled. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”
Lucas leaned over and bumped her with his shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Hm. Maybe I wouldn’t. But then again, maybe I would.” She crouched down to examine the lock on the display case. “Hand me my kit?”
Her partner pressed the set of lock picks into her hand. “Seriously, though. Why are we here?”
“Oh, you know. Handshake deal, you scratch my back, that sort of thing. Someone stole this from some muckety-muck, and she wants it back. Fletcher implied she’s willing to be very cooperative if we can deliver.”
Lucas studied the artifact while Quinn worked at the lock. “Is it...religious?”
“Pagan, I think.” Another tumbler clicked into place, prompting a smile. “Almost got it.”
There was another soft click, and Quinn froze. “That wasn’t me,” she hissed.
Lucas straightened, glancing around the room “I thought this place was supposed to be empty,” he whispered back. “I’ll go check it out.”
“Hurry up. I’ve almost got this.”
Lucas nodded and slid over to the entryway. Quinn’s pencil-thin beam of light did nothing to illuminate the darkened hallway beyond, which was just as well. Pausing at the opening, he listened, straining to detect any anomalies. The near-noiseless snickt inches from his ear focused Lucas’ attention like a rubber band snapping back into place. He froze, not daring to breathe. That had sounded an awful lot like the safety being released.
“You know,” a male voice said conversationally. “You picked the wrong day for this, you really did.” The tone was casual, but forced.
Lucas had one job now: keep the threat away from Quinn. That’s why they had been paired on this mission, after all: Quinn to get them in, Lucas to get her out.
“I tried to schedule an appointment,” Lucas said, matching the newcomer’s casualness. “Just wanted a tour.”
All levity vanished. “It’s not enough that I caught my wife with another pool boy. It’s not enough that some moron scratched my Porsche. And of course it’s not enough that my sure thing came up lame around the last turn.”
The man stepped into a pool of moonlight, allowing Lucas to catch a glimpse of the weapon. A Ruger Mark IV. Judging by the way he held it, it was more than a toy to him.
“No, the universe decided my day wasn’t crappy enough, and sent a thief to top it off.” He raised the gun level with Lucas’ eyes.
Lucas held his hands up and took a step forward. Always interesting to see what a threat would do if he moved toward, rather than back. “Whoa, now. Who said anything about stealing?”
The man looked surprised that Lucas hadn’t backed down, but held his ground. “You’re in my private gallery. Uninvited. Long after visiting hours. Is there another explanation?”
Motion caught the corner of Lucas’ eye. He didn’t dare risk a look, but it had to be Quinn. What was she thinking? She was supposed to grab the thing and run. The owner of the small statue must have seen it, too, because he did turn. Lucas pounced on the shift of attention, taking two quick steps forward and knocking the gun offline.
The man spun back to him, moving faster than Lucas had anticipated, and backhanded the butt of the Ruger against Lucas’ jaw. He dropped, the world spinning around him.
“Where’s your friend? Huh? Where’d he go?” the man demanded, aiming the muzzle of the gun right between Lucas’ eyes.
“Right behind you.” Even as she spoke, Quinn swung a heavy vase at the man’s head. It made a musical toonk and he crumpled to the ground in a heap.
Quinn stepped over him and grabbed Lucas’ hand. “Come on!”
He let her pull him to his feet, grateful for the assistance. The room swayed dangerously, and he didn’t trust his balance. Quinn kept hold of his hand as they ran down the hall to their secondary exit. By the time they reached the window, Lucas had recovered his balance enough to push it open and insist Quinn go first. It was a drop, nearly half a story, but she landed in a crouch.
Lucas hesitated, caught by surprise. There was no way the man could have recovered that fast. Then white-hot pain stabbed through his upper arm, a piercing counterpoint to the gunshot that rattled the paintings on the walls. He glimpsed a guard’s uniform and swore at himself for losing focus, even as he tumbled out the open window into the night air.
