Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared
to take the armlet. The jolt came hard and deep, then eased. He had felt other instants of recognition with other artifacts, but nothing to match this; it was like grabbing a bare electrical wire.
He stood and walked over to Risa, putting himself between her and Smith-White’s shrewd gray eyes.
“Brace yourself,” he said too softly for the other man to hear.
Warily she took the armlet. A flash of heat, a whirl of time, a rush of light-headedness, and then the present settled into its accustomed place.
Except that the look on Shane’s face told her it had taken her longer to come back than the few seconds of disorientation she remembered experiencing.
She didn’t object when he came with her to the worktable. She put the armband under the microscope and willed herself not to be drawn into its sinuous, potent designs. She told herself she was successful.
The gooseflesh rippling up her arms told her she was lying.
Designed for either muscular biceps or a very thin neck, the heavy gold band was perhaps three fingers wide and incised in such a way that light flowed over it as though the gold was constantly shifting, breathing, alive . Without magnification, the background designs had suggested the symmetrical basket-style decoration of the Snettisham hoard, but what caught the eye—and the breath—was the face that stared out at her through the mists of time.
Almond-shaped eyes of blue enamel and jet pupils, eyes that were empty yet all-seeing in an eerie way. High brow fit to wear a crown. Thin shadow line for a nose, no mouth. The face—or perhaps it was a skull—dominated the dense designs it sprang from. The designs themselves were highly abstract, interlaced lines symbolizing geese. A thick-beaked raven bracketed either side of the head/skull.
Raven of death, immortal geese, and man caught between, living through death to eternity.
She would have sworn she hadn’t spoken aloud, but beside her Shane said, “Yes.”
Risa grimly shook off the spell of the art. When she spoke, her tone was neutral. “The artist who created this was aware of every style from Hallstatt through all variations of La Tène and prefigured the avoidance of empty space in a design that became the hallmark of Celtic work as seen in the Book of Kells.”
“Are you saying he was alive in the ninth century a.d.?” Shane asked.
“Or she. I simply use the masculine form for convenience.” Risa made a swift movement of her hand before he could say anything more. “To answer your question, I would have to compare many artifacts, particularly ones that had been found in situ. Otherwise, dating is rather arbitrarily decided upon stylistic details. Unfortunately, styles remain static in one geographic area of the Celtic civilization and surge forward in another, which leads to all kinds of assumptions about age and source of a given artifact that are little more than educated guesses. Highly educated, granted, but still guesses.”
“Could this be sixth century?”
“Are you going to buy it?” she asked very softly.
“What do you think?”
“I think we should talk about provenance.”
“We’ll get to that.”
“Before or after the sale?” she shot back in a furious undertone.
He didn’t answer.
Rather bitterly she turned back to look at the gleaming armband that should have been malevolent but was simply, deeply powerful. Staring at it, she wondered why Shane bothered to pay her at all. Half the time he ignored her. The other half they fought like hell on fire.
The longer everyone avoided the subject of provenance, the more certain she was that she and her boss were about to have their last battle. There was absolutely no way in heaven or hell that these artifacts weren’t stolen. The only question was when and where.
And how many had died along the way.
Chapter 28
Las Vegas
November 3
Early afternoon
T he silence in Miranda Seton’s house was thick enough to walk on. That was what Cherelle was doing, pacing back and forth, back and forth, living room to kitchen, kitchen to living room, a tense ghost wearing lime green silk.
Tim should have been back by now. If he was coming back.
If you don’t get that armband, don’t come back. Ever.
She had meant it then. She meant it now. But she really wanted that armband. The more she thought about giving away any part of the gold, the more she was afraid that there wouldn’t be enough left to get her where she wanted to be in life.
She didn’t know
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