Free Shades of Earl Grey by Laura Childs

no, thought Theodosia, her heart in her throat. Not again!
    Plunged into complete darkness, the room erupted in chaos. Women screamed, a tray of drinks went crashing to the floor. Across the room, something hit the carpet with a muffled thud. Disoriented by the dark, people began to lunge to and fro. Theodosia felt an elbow drill into her back, a sleeve brush roughly against her bare arm.
    Suddenly, mercifully, from off to her left, someone flipped on a cigarette lighter and held the flame aloft like a tiny torch. There was a spatter of applause, then a deep hum started from somewhere in the depths of the building.
    â€œGenerator,” murmured a male voice off to her right. “Emergency lights should kick on soon.”
    Ten seconds later, four sets of emergency lights sputtered on.
    They blazed weakly overhead, yet did little to actually illuminate the room. The lighting felt unnatural and fuzzy, like trying to peer through a bank of fog.
    â€œHey!” called a voice that Theodosia recognized as belonging to Jory Davis. “Someone’s down over here!”
    Theodosia quickly elbowed her way through the crowd in the direction of Jory Davis’s voice.
    Ten feet, fifteen feet of pushing past people brought her to just outside the small gallery. In the dim light she could see one of the security guards sprawled on the floor. Jory Davis was already on his hands and knees beside the man, making a hasty check of his airways, trying to determine if he was still breathing.
    â€œIs he okay?” asked Theodosia.
    â€œHe’s still breathing,” said Jory, “but he’s for sure out cold.” Jory put a finger to the top of the security guard’s head, came away with a smear of blood. “Looks like he took a nasty bump to the noggin.” Jory glanced up at Theodosia. “Somebody sapped this poor guy, but good,” he added in a tight, low voice. Then Jory Davis scrambled to his feet. “Can someone please call an ambulance!” he shouted.
    With Jory Davis’s forceful lawyer voice ringing out across the room, no fewer than twenty people responded instantly. Cell phones were yanked from pockets and evening bags, and twenty fingers punched in the same 911 call, completely swamping the small crew that manned Charleston’s central emergency line.
    â€œTheodosia!” Timothy Neville was suddenly at her side and clutching her arm. “It’s gone!” he told her in a tremulous voice. “Vanished!”
    â€œWhat’s gone?” she asked, momentarily confused.
    â€œThe Blue Kashmir,” Timothy hissed. “The sapphire necklace. It’s disappeared from its case!” Timothy clapped a wizened hand to the side of his face and seemed to collapse in on himself.
    Theodosia stared at Timothy in disbelief. When the power went out, the sensor beams had stopped working, too, she realized. Oh, no . . . we didn’t even consider that possibility. Had someone cut the power deliberately? Or had the storm just knocked it out?
    No, she decided, if a guard’s been injured, the power had to have been disabled on purpose.
    In the dim light Theodosia could see that Timothy was dangerously on the verge of passing out.
    â€œAre you okay, Timothy?” she asked.
    â€œYes, yes,” he said hurriedly, although perspiration had broken out on his face and his breathing had suddenly turned shallow.
    Ohmygosh, Theodosia thought to herself. Heart attack? Not Timothy. Please, Lord, not Timothy. Not now.
    Pushing his way over to them, Drayton took one look at Timothy Neville’s face, grabbed him firmly by the arm, and steered him to a nearby chair a few feet away. “Are you all right, Timothy?” he asked as Timothy sat down gingerly, looking paler than ever.
    â€œYes, I think so . . .” rasped Timothy, “. . . just let me catch my . . .”
    Theodosia whirled about and threw herself down next to Jory Davis. He had once again taken up his