The man ignored his question, eyes darting around the room before settling on Gabe again. “Where is Mr Lamberti and the woman?”

“Busy. No introductions? Who are you?”

“Who we are is of no concern to you. You will be dead in a few minutes, as will the others. We will find them. I presume they are in the next room.” He shrugged, his lips twisting into a grim smile. “It is just a matter of time.” He stepped forward, the other men advancing with him, one heading towards the door to the bedroom.

“Not so fast.” Gabe stepped across their path to block the door. “Ah, yes. Time. But you are running out of it, not me. I am on to you now. The Brotherhood. Or The Consortium, as you were once called. Your dirty little intrigues that are intent on spreading Belial’s darkness. His tokens that you have sprinkled around. I will find them all.”

If the man was surprised by Gabe’s knowledge, he hid it well. “You pretend you act alone, but you don’t. Is that how you knew that we were here? You have eyes on the building. No matter. We will find them, too.”

Without another word he threw his blade with a deft flick of his wrist. His movement was so subtle, so smooth, that Gabe barely saw it, but he had faster reflexes than most. He dived to the floor, rolling behind the huge armchair that Lamberti had sat in. He threw one blade while in motion, aiming for the closest man. He struck him in the throat, and he crumpled to the floor, hands clutching at the hilt.

A flurry of knives followed, pinning Gabe in position. He picked up the chair, using it as a shield and a battering ram, and ran at the man who had been doing all the talking. Gabe crunched into him, knocking him to the floor.

Simultaneously, the door flew open and Niel and Shadow burst in. A short but furious fight followed. The men were agile and swift, but were ultimately no match for two Nephilim and a fey. Within moments, all lay dead.

“Fuck it,” Gabe said, pulling his blades from the dead and wiping them on their clothes. “I had hoped to ask more questions. Where are the others?”

“I have one captive downstairs, Shadow killed another on the landing, but Ash is watching two more by the dock. The housekeeper is dead,” Niel told him. “Where are Lamberti and Romola?”

“Safe, I hope. I’ll check on them in a moment.”

Shadow crossed to the window and looked at the Grand Canal below. “There’s a boat down there. Must be owned by Ash’s men.”

“Go and check it out,” Gabe instructed. “Be careful. Do not compromise Ash.”

“You might need this,” Niel said, throwing her the key. “I locked one room.”

She nodded and vanished with her normal flash of fey glamour.

Gabe grimaced as he surveyed the dead. “I had hoped to avoid this. There must be others involved in Venice. Lamberti better start answering some questions.”

Shadow avoided the locked room, and instead headed into the one next to it.

Its plaster work was crumbling, and the paint was faded, but one tall window looked out onto the small dock beyond. Two huge doors took up the rest of the space. It was a place to unload supplies. She crossed the floor silently and edged to the window.

Two men stood talking quietly as they overlooked the river. If she could open the doors, she could kill them easily, but the locks looked clunky and rusted, and no doubt that would make a noise. Perhaps that wouldn’t matter, she reflected. But where was Ash?

Worried for his safety, she studied the shadows beyond the window. She doubted the men would have caught him off-guard, but where was he? The area was full of old crates, mouldering bits of rope, and other water-related paraphernalia. Fortunately, the men weren’t looking in her direction at all. Plus, the windows were grimy, and the room was dark behind her. She pressed her face to the glass, peering to either side, and finally spotted a figure coiled in the corner.

Ash.

There was no way she could attract his attention. Any minute now, the men would be asking questions about what was going on upstairs. As she watched, one reached for his phone, and she heard the ringtone in the room next door. Herne’s hairy bollocks! It belonged to the man Niel had knocked out. And it rang and rang and rang. The man turned, confused, and Shadow realised that he could hear it outside.

Not entirely sure what would happen, but fearing he might call for support, she acted quickly. She smashed the window with the butt of her dagger, and both men whirled around. She threw her knife at the man on the phone, and her blade plunged into his chest, killing him instantly. But before she could attack the second, Ash leapt from behind the crates and killed him after a very quick, muffled struggle.

Ash hauled the man behind the crates, and Shadow leapt through the broken window, helping him dispose of the other.

“I should have known it was you, Shadow. I was listening to them!”

“He could have been about to call for help!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Oh, come on, the odds are strong. We’ve killed everyone except a captive. We do not want more turning up.”

Ash paused, hands on hips as he surveyed the Grand Canal, but no one was paying any attention to their shadowed dock, deep under the overhang of the floor above. Shadow checked the dead man’s phone, but it had stopped dialling, and she shoved it in her pocket.

“I guess not,” Ash finally said. He lifted his chin, gesturing to the upper floors. “All dealt with?”

“Just the one next door that Niel punched unconscious. Want to help me take him upstairs? We have a lot of questions he could answer.”

He nodded. “Oh, yes. I have lots of questions, too.” And with that enigmatic response, he led the way back in through the broken window.

Eighteen

Estelle followed Barak, Nahum, Olivia, Lucien, and Harlan into Jenkins’s office, somewhere in the labyrinthine passages of the British Museum.

He was a tall, rangy man who looked like he’d spent most of his life outdoors. He was, Estelle estimated, in his sixties, with tanned, weather-beaten skin and dark blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles. He had greeted all of them as if they were superstars, and they probably were to the museum community. Well, Harlan and Nahum perhaps, seeing as they had actually found the Templar treasure. Estelle was happy to soak it all up, amused by the excitement the find had provoked.

Before the appointment with Jenkins, they had all eaten a long, celebratory lunch, saying little about Belial, seeing as Theo was with them. However, once he had left them, Barak and Estelle had told them of their meeting, and the others had asked to join them. Fortunately, Jenkins seemed happy to entertain them all, dragging chairs from other offices to accommodate the group.

After some excited questions about the treasure, he said, “I understand, though, that you are interested in another type of treasure? Sumerian digs? Assyrian, perhaps?”

Barak took the lead. “I wouldn’t know what age to categorise it, actually, but it is more Biblical in nature. It’s regarding finds that have angelic symbols, or perhaps ancient jewellery—clasps, bracelets, rings of gold and silver, and other precious metals and gemstones. They would probably have been in a well-preserved state. Or maybe there was a horn? Something that you would use to call troops to battle. Potentially there would have been quite a hoard of jewellery, and it might have been found in the Middle East.” He paused, glancing at Nahum, as if wondering how much to say. “Perhaps they would have had strange properties.”

Nahum nodded. “Yes, as if they were cursed, like with Egyptian finds.”

Jenkins leaned on the table, his hand stroking his chin as he considered their questions. “Well, as you know, Tutankhamun’s tomb was considered cursed. I presume you refer to something like that?” They all nodded enthusiastically, but Jenkins frowned. “Are you on another treasure hunt?”

Barak smiled. “It’s related to another case we’re working. We’re trying to find the source of a problem.”

Jenkins cast Harlan a tight-lipped look. “Not planning on stealing antiquities, I hope? I know of The Orphic Guild’s reputation.”

Harlan sat back, affronted. “We delivered you Templar treasure! That’s hardly justified.”

“In this instance. I’m sure we both know there are others when you haven’t been so forthcoming.”

“That’s unfair,” Olivia said, glaring at Jenkins. “You have no idea what we do! Most things we find for clients are not significant enough for museums. And besides, you have so much stuff in your basement alone that will never be seen! Talk about hoarding treasure! Especially that which belongs to other countries.”

Estelle winced. Wading in on the Elgin Marbles debate was not the distraction they needed right now.

Barak intervened, shooting Harlan and Olivia venomous looks. “We just want to know what has already been found, and what might be on display. You would know, I’m sure. A man of your vast knowledge and connections.”

Jenkins rolled his eyes. “Flattery. You must be desperate.” Estelle wondered if she needed to cast some glamour, something to oil his tongue, but Jenkins seemed to shrug off his issues with Harlan and Olivia, his interest piqued. He leaned forward. “There was a find many years ago that included just such treasures as you mention, and the dig was indeed believed to be cursed. It sends shivers through our community even now, over one hundred years later.”

Estelle felt a stir of excitement, and leaned forward, too.

Jenkins continued. “The men on that dig ended up dead, all except for one, who disappeared.”