Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88613 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88613 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Whatever it was, I was about to find out.
“Go on, step inside,” he said, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning.
The first thought that hit me as I entered his horde was: wow.
Second was: matches?
Third was: of fucking course.
The room was a long, vertical space with a single ancient-looking table that spanned its length directly down the center. All down the walls were shelves with different colors of matchboxes lit by soft white lights above and below them. The table in the center of the room also had matchboxes, except these were under a glass covering that served as the tabletop. There had to be over a thousand in this room. Maybe more, judging by how far down the walls stretched, leading to two stained glass windows.
That’s when I saw them. The Moriarty paintings.
All thoughts of matches were forgotten. I walked forward, my body moving of its own accord.
Here they were. The paintings everyone was looking for. Sitting on two separate easels, surrounded by matches that could light them up in flames.
A sinister shiver crawled down my spine. They were beautiful paintings, even though there weren’t any distinguishable shapes in the frame. It was just swirls of color, perfectly balanced. One frame was blue and green, another red and brown, and the last was yellow and white. They seemed almost… basic? But there was no denying that there was an undercurrent of vile power underneath it. If all three were together, then the Chaos King would be one step closer to being free. That thought alone made me take an involuntary step back.
“I can’t believe it,” I said. “They’re really here.”
“They are.” Maddox’s hand landed on the small of my back. “We’ll get the last one from the Crimson Ring, and we’ll destroy them. We will.”
“Should we… shouldn’t we just destroy them now?”
“We can’t. I tried. All three need to be together, according to Moriarty himself. I found an old journal of his in my search for the paintings, and he said it in there. He had them enchanted so that no fire, water, wind, or any physical force could destroy the paintings without all three lined up.”
My instinct shouted at me to grab some of these matches and light them on fire, but I trusted Maddox. Even after he showed me the paintings.
hell, especially after he showed me the paintings.
“I have to tell my client that I’m off the case.” Realization hit me hard. I wasn’t in the financial position to be dropping cases, but it was clear that I couldn’t bring Davie these paintings, no matter who had them. I let out an exhausted sigh. “Peter’s going to be so fucking pissed.”
“It’s okay. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s the easiest. This job was going to pay me life-changing amounts of money.” I rubbed at my face, my stress levels rising. “But I know there aren’t any other options.”
“I can help cover the costs, whatever the way. I can pay it. Just relax. I want to see you smile again. Breathe. That’s it.” He had a hand on my chest. His touch grounded mine. I sucked in another deep breath, listening to him. I didn’t want to just take his money. I’d worked hard my entire life to dig myself out of the hole I’d been dumped in. But this situation felt far larger than any I tackled in the past, and if he was offering help, then I had to take it.
I looked at the paintings again. There was something at the back of my mind that started to ring a warning bell. I took out my phone. “Is it ok if I take a picture of them?”
“Sure,” Madds answered. “Can’t see why that would hurt.”
I snapped a shot and pocketed my phone. “Thank you,” I said. I kissed him again. And again. Any ice that had been left between us shattered in that moment. I felt my walls come down, aided by the fact that I was standing inside one of his most sacred spaces.
“Matches, huh?” I asked, looking around again, smiling wide.
“I told you, I like to play with fire sometimes.” He kissed me again, reaching around and grabbing a handful of my ass. “Besides, I love how matchboxes usually tell a story. Everywhere I go, I usually find at least one good one. An interesting one. A well-designed one. They hold memories, and I like that.” He held my face in his hands and gave me another kiss. “Now it’s your turn.”
“My turn? For what?”
“I want to see where you live. I want to see your space, and I want to meet your dog.”
I blinked in surprise. That was slightly unexpected, and I wasn’t anywhere near ready to entertain guests in my shitty apartment. Especially not a guest of Madds’ caliber.
“Maybe next week. Let me clean it up first.”