My boys and the British Museum, sweet! The British Museum is kind of a secondary setting for the story, but it's still significant. How so? Let me give you a story snippet that helps paint a picture.
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I fell asleep
sometime around dawn. I had been up all night researching and printing out
articles, and after a few hours my table was just as messy as it had been when
I was in the throes of my dissertation defense. When I woke up, my head wasn’t
pillowed on reams of paper, though, it was cushioned on the pillow from my bed.
I was laid out on the sofa in the most comfortable way possible, which still
wasn’t great, but was better than bent over my ancient laptop. The quilt my
mother had made for me before I went to college was draped over me, and the air
smelled like fresh coffee and bagels. Someone was holding my feet and rubbing a
thumb gently along the curve of my ankle. For a second, I felt nothing but
utter contentment. Then reality poured back in, and that light feeling turned
to lead in my chest.
“Reese.” I opened my eyes
and looked over at him. He was wearing the shell I loved the best, long and
lean and gorgeous. He gave me a half-smile and saluted me with his cup of
coffee.
“Looks like you
didn’t follow my advice, Danny.” He glanced at the mess of papers. “I thought
you were going to rest up, get plenty of liquids, so on and so forth. Instead
you’re neck-deep in research.”
“It was important,” I
mumbled, pulling my feet away and sitting. Reese frowned but let me go.
“Must be,” he said
noncommittally. “What’s up, pet?”
I ran a hand through
my messy hair and sighed heavily. I could feel Reese shift a little, like he
wanted to come closer to me, but something was holding him back. Reese had
always been very intuitive, and he could read me like a book.
I shuffled through
the papers on the table until I found the one I was looking for. I looked at it
one last time, then handed it over to Reese. He took it silently. “Did you do
this?”
Reese took a moment
to read the first few lines, his lips slightly pursed, like he was considering
biting into a lemon. “Old news, Danny.” He put the paper down on the arm of the
couch and crossed his legs. “Lisbon was three years ago. Long before I ever met
you.”
“I know that,” I
said, pretty calmly I thought. “So were these ones.” I passed him the first
pages of articles detailing thefts at major museums in Barcelona, Kyoto, Rio de
Janiero, Rome. Each one was a high-profile theft going after magical artifacts,
and all of them were jobs that had to be done by more than one person. National
treasures had been targeted, everything from paintings to jewelry to statuary,
each one sure to fetch the highest price on the black market. Reese glanced at
the pages and then set them aside as well.
“So they were,” he
agreed. He stared at me, totally expressionless. “What’s your point, Danny
boy?”
“What about this
one?” My hand trembled a little as I passed the articles I’d downloaded on the
British Museum theft over to him. I watched him look them over, his face still
a perfect blank. “I figure it had to be done with some kind of sympathetic
magic,” I said. I’d gone over and over how Reese and his team could have pulled
this off in my mind, and that was the only thing that made sense. “Five statues
stolen, so five people mobilizing them, one for one. People skilled enough to
get their hands on the statues at some point, to leave a piece of themselves
behind and create a connection. People detailed enough to set up a perfect
replica of each of the statues’ environments and genius enough to design the
spells that would connect living, breathing humans to millennia-old marble.
“It’s so brilliant,”
I sighed, closing my eyes for a second. “And it would take a lot of money to set
up. Money and brilliance are two things that you and your crew have in spades.”
“All conjecture, pet.
You don’t have proof of that.”
“I don’t need proof
of it,” I told him. God, I felt tired. “I just need you to tell me. Did you do
this, Reese?”
It wasn’t as though I
didn’t expect it, but it still hurt to have it confirmed when he nodded his
head. “Yeah,” he said after a second. “Yeah, we managed it. Not quite like you
envisioned, but close enough. And it’s not the first job I’ve taken since you
and I got together and you know it. So why the hell have you suddenly started
caring about my work, Danny? It didn’t bother you a month ago when the money I
make paid our way to Vegas for the weekend, it didn’t bother you three months
ago when I sent your mother a baker’s dozen of roses for Valentine’s Day, it
didn’t even bother you when you were run into the goddamn canals of Venice when
some of my old mates came after me. Why now?”
Happy Saturday:)
Challenge accepted!! I am going to try to think up some appropriate names and I'll get back to you. It'll be really tough to think of something that fits for all three books. Hrmmmmm....
ReplyDeleteThank you! Seriously, my editor and I have both been stumped.
ReplyDeleteWow! This whole name thing is WAY harder than it seemed. So the best idea I have had BY FAR is this (still, maybe its not so good)... Pursued. I think it fits nicely with the other titles of Treasured, Shadowed, and Reclaimed. I keep coming back to it and its just the best I've got so far... I think it works well since the theme of pursuit is common among the 3 stories on a couple different levels. Hmmm...
ReplyDeleteAnyway...just throwing that out there. If my brain wasn't fried with work I might be able to do better. Oh well! I tried :-)
Oh Tiffany, hell yeah! That's actually really good. I like it very much, so much that I'm going to email my editor about it. Again, if we use it, you totally win the fic of your choice for free. Thank you so much for helping!
ReplyDelete*genuflects humbly in your direction*