The Mephisto Club

the back of the shop, both of them wearing magnifying loupes around their heads. When Paolo looked up, one enormous eye stared like a cyclops at Lily.
    “You must see this!” he called out to her in Italian. “It just arrived. Sent by a collector from Israel.”
    They were so excited, they hadn’t even noticed she was late. She set her backpack down behind her desk and squeezed her way past the antique table and the oak monastery bench. Past the Roman sarcophagus, which now served ignominiously as a temporary container for file storage. She stepped over an open crate that had spilled wooden packing shavings onto the floor, and frowned at the object on Giorgio’s desk. It was a block of carved marble, perhaps part of an edifice. She noticed the patina on two adjoining surfaces, a soft gleam left by centuries of exposure to wind and rain and sun. It was a cornerstone.
    Young Paolo pulled off his loupe, and his dark hair stood up. Grinning at her with those earlike tufts of hair, he looked like one of the legendary Sienese werewolves, albeit a perfectly harmless and utterly charming one. Like his father, Paolo possessed not a single ounce of cruelty, and were it not for the fact that she would inevitably be forced to break his heart, Lily would happily have taken him as a lover.
    “I think you will like this piece,” he said, and offered her his magnifier. “It is just the sort of thing you’re always interested in.”
    She bent over the cornerstone and studied the manlike figure carved there. It was standing upright, with a skirt around its waist and decorative bracelets and anklets. But the head was not human. She slid the magnifier over her head and leaned in closer. As the details came alive through the lens, she felt a sudden chill. She saw jutting canine teeth and fingers tipped with claws. And horns.
    She straightened, her throat dry, her voice oddly distant. “You said the collector is from Israel?”
    Giorgio nodded and took off his loupe, revealing an older, plumper version of Paolo. The same dark eyes, but webbed with laugh lines. “This man is new to us. So we’re not sure of the provenance. Whether to trust him.”
    “How did he happen to send us this piece?”
    Giorgio shrugged. “It arrived in the crate today. That’s all I know.”
    “He wants you to sell it for him?”
    “He asked only for an appraisal. What do you think?”
    She rubbed a finger across the patina. Felt the chill again, seeping from the stone to her flesh. “Where does he say it comes from?”
    Giorgio reached for a bundle of papers. “He says he acquired it eight years ago, in Tehran. I think it must be smuggled.” He gave another shrug, a wink. “But what do we know, eh?”
    “Persian,” she murmured. “This is Ahriman.”
    “What is Ahriman?” asked Paolo.
    “Not a what, a who. In ancient Persia, Ahriman is a demon. The spirit of destruction.” She set the magnifier on the desk and took a deep breath. “He’s their personification of evil.”
    Giorgio gave a laugh and rubbed his hands in glee. “You see, Paolo? I told you she’d know. Devils, demons, she knows them all. Every time, she has the answer.”
    “Why?” Paolo looked at her. “I never understood why you’re so interested in evil things.”
    How could she answer that question? How could she tell him that she’d once looked the Beast in the eye, and It had looked right back at her? Had seen her?
It’s been pursuing me ever since.
    “So it is authentic?” asked Giorgio. “This cornerstone?”
    “Yes, I believe it is.”
    “Then I should write him at once, eh? Our new friend in Tel Aviv. Tell him he has sent it to the right dealer, one who understands its value.” With great care, he set the stone back into its packing crate. “For something this special, we will certainly find a buyer.”
    Who would want that monstrosity in their home?
Lily thought.
Who’d want to have evil staring at you from your own wall?
    “Ah, I almost forgot,” said Giorgio. “Did you know you have an admirer?”
    Lily frowned at him. “What?”
    “A man, he came to the shop at lunchtime. He asked if an American woman worked for me.”
    She went very still. “What did you tell him?”
    Paolo said, “I stopped Father from saying anything. We could get into trouble, since you have no permit.”
    “But now I’ve been thinking about it some more,” said Giorgio. “And I think maybe the man’s just sweet on you. And that’s why he inquired.” Giorgio