Free Saint Peter’s Wolf by Michael Cadnum

Cherry’s leaving me.”
    I regretted telling him, his expression was so pained. He cared so much about people, about life, that it was easy to hurt him. “That’s awful, Ben. I’m sorry.”
    We were silent then, staring away from each other, each absorbing what I had said. Then I leaned forward. “But that’s not really why I came to see you. And not only because of the encyclopedia, either. There’s something else. A treasure.”
    Curiosity made him glow. “Tell me about it.”
    â€œSomething I brought with me. I want you to look at it.”
    He rubbed his hands together. I always brought him something a little bit unusual, a Syrian vase, a Holbein autograph. “I can hardly wait. Where is it?”
    â€œI have it here, with me.” I touched my jacket pocket where it hid, heavy as a gun.
    I was reluctant to bring it into this healthy light, men and women eating salads, stirring sugar into their coffee. I would have mentioned it upstairs, but as I began to do so I had found myself reluctant to talk about it. Even now I wanted to change the subject, to put off showing it to Stan. I could not entirely understand why.
    â€œWhat is it? Where did you get it?”
    â€œIt’s not like anything else I’ve ever shown you. I need you to do some work on its background. I need more information.” I was stalling now. “I got it from Zinser.”
    â€œNo kidding! It must be very interesting. Tell me.”
    It wasn’t like me to drop a name, and we both knew that I had never dealt with the famous collector before. I put my hand to the coat pocket, and it could not take the box from its hiding place. It wanted to stay where it was.
    Stan thought he understood. “Okay, we’ll go up to my office.” He nearly winked. He thought I had an artifact of unusual value and that I didn’t want to expose it here before all these lunch-eating potential thieves.
    I welcomed Stan’s discretion, but I felt that I was deceiving him. We chatted about mutual acquaintances in the elevator, and paused to admire the work an assistant had begun on the rat blood, and then Stan ushered me into his office, and shut the door.
    He tugged down a hinged lamp, and snapped it on. He cleared a few invoices from his otherwise empty desk. “So let’s see what you have.”
    My hand would not move. I forced it this time, and withdrew the heavy, dark box, feeling the vibration from within the box, from the inner life of the darkness where the thing reflected nothing, only the dark around it. When I tilted the box, setting it down on the bare desktop, it felt as though there were a gyroscope inside it. Humming, and keeping the box oriented toward some unguessable pole.
    Stan’s eyebrows lifted for a moment as he observed my caution, my reluctance to open the box. His lips were parted. He focused on nothing but the dark cube, and my trembling fingers.
    I worked the hasp, and the box sprang open.
    Stan took a step back. “Jesus!”
    The bright light sang off the silverwork, and shone from the fangs themselves. Again, I had not been able to anticipate how magnificent they were. The full set of teeth, taken from some tremendous animal, gleamed under the light.
    â€œWhat are they?” I asked hoarsely.
    Stan would not take the step that would bring him back to the desk. “Where on earth did you get those?”
    â€œI told you. I got them from Zinser.”
    He made a gesture. “Close it. Please.”
    I was shocked at his reaction, but I reached into the warm pool of illumination and closed the box. Immediately a constellation of light I had barely noticed, a reflection on the wall, vanished.
    Stan seemed to be trembling. He stepped toward the light, now, and leaned on his desk. “What did Zinser say about them?”
    â€œNot much. He’s having his people find out more about them.”
    Stan nodded. “I bet he was glad to get rid