Gunmetal Magic: A Novel in the World of Kate Daniels

man in my bed. I think we both know that. If I really wanted to take you away from your fiancée, I would. Lucky for her, I’m not a glutton for punishment.”
    I put the glass cutter into my mouth, jumped up, and slid through the window, holding on to the bricks with my fingertips before he called my bluff. I heard Raphael unlock the bathroom. A moment later he pulled himself through the window with easy grace.
    We climbed up like two lizards, hurrying up the wall. Raphael reached the second-floor window and ripped the grate off with a casual tug. I cut a semicircle of the window’sglass, popped it out, slid my hand through the opening and unhooked the latch. The second latch followed, and I slid the window up and dived in, legs first. Raphael followed, setting the grate back in place.
    I looked around the dim room. The contours of a large canopy bed rose from the gloom to the right.
    Raphael brushed against my back. My body stood at attention. Sex? Yes, please. My mind said, “Not until hell freezes over.”
    “You’re touching me,” I chided him.
    He caressed my back, sliding his hand down, hitting every sensitive point I hadn’t even known I had. “No, this is touching you. That was just accidental contact.”
    “Oh? Good to know. If you touch me again and I break your arm off, you can be sure it will be completely accidental.”
    He stepped close, his thigh brushing my butt. I elbowed him in the ribs. It was hardly a gentle nudge.
    He laughed.
    “I know it’s difficult, since I have a shapely butt and all, but try to focus on our illegal burglary.”
    “As opposed to legal burglary?”
    Argh.
    I snuck to the door and edged it open. The hallway was empty. Ahhh. Finally things were looking up. I padded out of the door and down to the end of the hallway, where a massive wooden door loomed. Supposedly the office waited behind it. I left the bedroom and jogged to the door. Raphael followed me.
    I tried the handle. Unlocked.
    “Too easy,” Raphael murmured.
    If we got caught, the Pack would have hell to pay.
    “No choice now.” I stepped into the office.
    The scent of myrrh spiced the air. Rows of brown shelves looked at me, filled with assorted volumes and objects. A brigantine cast in pewter with startling detail. An ancient vase, a statue of a muscular man kneeling. Next to the shelves, a heavy rectangular desk sat on a spare rug, its corners trimmed with golden accents. Three chairs waited for someone to sit down, one behind the desk and two in the corners of the room. Shimmering golden curtains framed the two windows. Decorations of twisted metal hung on the black walls, the mostprominent being metal scales with a moon above them, on the wall directly opposite the desk. The moon’s stylized eyes were closed to mere slits and her mouth smiled.
    The place was empty.
    Raphael moved past me and checked the windows. I locked the door and slipped behind the desk. From this vantage point, the room took on a new light. Every object within the office had been placed into a precise position oriented with the person behind the desk in mind. The desk was the center of this little cosmos, and the moment I sat behind it, I became the focal point of the room, as if I had assumed a place in the center of some invisible convergence of power. If inanimate objects could worship, the trappings of Anapa’s office would have knelt before me, because I sat in the place of their god.
    The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Whatever intelligence was at work here, it couldn’t possibly be human. People did not think like this.
    Raphael peeled himself from the window and stood by me. “What?”
    I beckoned him with my hand. He approached and I took him by the shoulder and tugged him down to my level. “Look at the room.”
    He surveyed the office. His eyes widened.
    “It’s not just me, is it?” I whispered.
    “No.” He bared his teeth. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
    I tried the bottom drawer. It opened easily. I rummaged through it. Papers, monthly business statements from the bank…nothing interesting. I tried the top one. Locked.
    Raphael pulled a pick from his pocket and threaded it into the lock. He twisted and the lock clicked. Raphael slid the drawer open. A brown leather folder. I plucked it out, put it on the desk and opened it. A clear plastic sleeve shielded a photograph: an ivory bowl carved with figures of people engaged in combat and long vessels with little cabins