Free Storm of Shadows by Christina Dodd Page B

Malay and her stolen cache of pre-Columbian art.

    “And the heels?” Charisma stuck out her foot and turned it from side to side, admiring the tacky gold sandal.

    “I can’t begin to guess.”

    “Ha! They’re Zappo’s! Since no one will let the womenfolk leave the house”—she was getting sarcastic about their enforced confinement—“we’ve been hitting the Internet with Irving’s credit card. It’s all about overnight shipping.”

    “But what brand are they?” He was guessing something cheap.

    “I dunno.” She shrugged. “But this outfit needed some pop.”

    “Clearly.” The Chosen Ones had known each other for five days—five strife-ridden, challenging days—and from the first moment, Charisma had been his favorite. She made him laugh.

    Aaron looked around. “We’re missing Jacqueline and Caleb.”

    Samuel thumped his fists together.

    “In bed again?” Jacqueline was their seer. Caleb was her bodyguard. In the days since the Gypsy Travel Agency had blown up, they had gone through hell. Now desperately in love, they seized every available moment to be together.

    “They’re celebrating.” Charisma took off one of her heels and rubbed her foot. “They went down and got their marriage license.”

    “I knew they were going to get married, but . . . their marriage license? Already? I was only gone a few hours.” Although the last few days had been life on fast-forward.

    “That’s the plan,” Sam said. “He’s so freaked out because Jacqueline was kicked around and he wasn’t there to save her, and she’s so freaked out because of her mother, they want to be married in the eyes of God. They’re looking for a chapel or nondenominational church.”

    “Okay.” Aaron supposed that made sense. “Wow.”

    Irving appeared in the doorway, tall and thin, looking every day of his ninety-three years, and at the same time hale and hearty. He had recovered from the shock of losing so many friends and associates in the blast of the Gypsy Travel Agency building, and now showed the steel that had made him one of the pioneering CEOs of the twentieth century. He extended his hand to Rosamund. “Dr. Hall, how good to see you again. I’m so glad you managed to carve some time out of your busy schedule to visit me.” He was obviously unsure exactly what to say, so he cleverly said little.

    “I knew she would enjoy your library,” Aaron said, “and I hoped we could convince her to return to help us find our prophecy.”

    Irving frowned. “She can’t stay?”

    “She has a date tonight,” Charisma said.

    “With Lance Mathews,” Isabelle said.

    Aaron looked right at Irving and said with meaning in his voice, “He’s the other guy.”

Chapter 9

    R osamund looked from Charisma to Isabelle to Irving to Samuel to Aaron.

    They were talking in code. She could tell they were, but for all her talent at translation, she could only comprehend the actual words.

    And really, why was this diverse group of men and women living together in Irving Shea’s mansion? Even she knew that was odd.

    She needed to leave, and she had the perfect excuse. Standing, she said, “I probably ought to go now and get ready for my date.”

    “My dear, you’ve come to see my private library, which I would love to show you. Furthermore, it has come to my attention your father has passed on. You must allow me to offer refreshments and my sympathies. You can’t refuse an old man who is feeling very, very guilty about his neglect.” Irving offered his arm. “This will take only a few minutes, and of course, as soon as you’re ready to go, McKenna will drive you home.”

    Irving was right. She couldn’t refuse him, not when he was being so kind and thoughtful. Taking his arm, she walked with him toward the stairway, but she couldn’t resist looking back at Aaron.

    He was following close on their heels, an Indian warrior stalking his prey.

    Yet his presence reassured her.

    Funny. She didn’t know if