“You’ve lost your master, to death or abandonment I know not. As a trophy, a relic, you’re left to dull and rot. I give a taste of what I can offer, with promise to increase your sheen and luster, so forgo your old ties and chose a new master.”
The rhymes were unnecessary as was the verbal request. Yet there was a certain magic in words, or so books told her. When dealing with an artifact that, according to the plaque, was over five thousand years old, it paid to be careful. A loyal blade was much less likely to cause problems with any protections left on it than a stolen blade. She made a note to give it a thorough examination before using it.
The bloodstones, on the other hand, did require a conversion to her. Again though, that could probably be done without a chant.
The blood sat on the blade long enough for Eva to wonder if it was rejecting her offer. Her rhymes weren’t very good. The first line popped into her head and she’d liked it. She started speaking without thinking and had to make up the second line as she went along. She frowned, mentally apologizing for not being a professional poet
A sigh of relief escaped her lips when the blood simmered and vanished within the golden metal. The bloodstones on both the sheath and the dagger darkened to black-red of her own dagger.
She sheathed the golden dagger and dropped it into her bag with a whispered “thanks.” Covering up the theft would be near impossible, and Eva didn’t care enough to try. It would be impossible to cover up the fact that people were here on account of the sleeping guards. As long as no trails led back to Eva, she was happy with the outcome.
To help cover up the theft of that specific item, Eva broke into a few other displays. She didn’t want the wrong sort of people looking into the dagger and finding it to be anything other than a simple ornament. She liberated a pair of earrings, a handful of rings, a bracelet and a necklace adorned with sapphires. All of it made of gold.
Eva didn’t think any of it was anything magical, but the presence of the dagger made her second guess herself. She promised herself to give everything a once over when she got home.
Eva quickly finished checking the rest of the room for the phylactery, unsuccessfully. She left the Egyptian exhibit with a significantly heavier bag.
She turned the corner and ran into someone. One hand had her dagger out and pressed against her arm and the other hand reached for a vial of demon blood before she even registered her master’s face.
“Did you find it?” Eva asked, slowly replacing her equipment.
Her master held up a plastic bag as far away from himself as he could. The outline of a palm sized skull could be seen through the thick plastic.
“I thought we weren’t going to touch it.”
“I haven’t touched it directly, but I was having trouble destroying it. I’ll need more specialized equipment.”
“Let me try?” She doubted she’d be able to succeed where her master failed, but blood magic was powerful. Her master was not fond of it. He probably didn’t try it.
“Later. I think a silent alarm was tripped. At least, there are police cars outside with their lights on. Your sloth rune may be deterring their entry.”
“Ah.” Eva glanced back at the Egyptian exhibit.
Her master crossed his arms, careful to keep the bag well away from his body, and gave her
“There was a ritual dagger,” she said, “it would have been irresponsible to leave such a dangerous object lying around.”
“We’ll talk later.” He started moving down the hall. “Lets find a window. Preferably one that doesn’t have cops hanging around it.”
Eva nodded, though he couldn’t see with his back turned, and followed behind him. “Arachne?”
Devon gave a half shrug. “Probably climbed to the roof. At least, it wasn’t tearing the police to shreds when I saw them. It’ll find us after we get out.”
“Speaking of talking,” Eva said with a hint of trepidation, “I met someone today.”
A grunt was all she got in return.
“A Zoe Baxter. Know her?”
“No.” He paused at a window. “That rooftop across the street, close enough for you to step to?”
Eva had barely glanced out the window when her master vanished from her side. He reappeared on the rooftop and gave a small wave. Eva stepped out after him, appearing at his side. “And if it had been too far?” she whispered.
“I’m sure a master burglar such as yourself could have found a hundred alternate escape routes.”
“Uh huh,” Eva turned back to the museum.
Arachne, in her full spider form, sat atop the roof. She scanned the ground, looking torn between wanting to pounce on the humans or remain hidden behind the roof’s ledge.
Eva cast a small light spell, small enough to be mistaken for a firefly, and waved it back and forth. It didn’t take long for Arachne to notice. The spider-woman folded her arms in what looked like a pout, though it was difficult to tell at a distance.
