Omens and Artifacts Read online

  It was Brennus’s blade. The sword that slew thousands. Which might or might not be true. Ben was sure the sword existed, and he wanted it. He wanted that sword and the treasure that came with it. If he and Tenzin could find the treasure of Brennus the Celt, they would be the legends.

  He’d found veiled mention of the sword in Tacitus’s account of Agricola’s governance of Britannia. He’d found another reference from a monk who’d traveled to Charlemagne’s court just prior to the raid of Lindisfarne.

  He popped the tray of korma into the microwave oven and leaned against the counter, drinking his ale and staring at the dark sway of damp trees in the back garden.

  The Sanguine Raptor existed. The treasure existed. Ben had even narrowed down the geographical area based on recorded Viking raids in the north and had several probable sites to start hunting.

  He just needed that one thing.

  One clue. One mention. One… anything that pointed him to its hiding place. He was hoping Tywyll, the oldest vampire in the British Isles, would be the one to give him that key.

  He squinted as he watched the trees. Why were they moving so much? He set his beer down and walked to the garden door. The rain had stopped and it wasn’t windy. In fact, he hadn’t noticed any breeze when he…

  A dark figure jumped from the tree just as he opened the door. His heart leapt and his stomach dropped.

  “It’s you.” He let out a breath.

  Tenzin grinned. “Did you miss me?”

  The ugly knot of frustration loosened in his chest. “Yes.” He pulled her into a tight hug. “What took you so long?”

  “I had things to do.” She squeezed him back before she ducked under his arm and into the kitchen. “What smells so— Why are you eating food from a microwave?”

  He followed her back in the house. “Because you haven’t been here to cook for me.”

  She picked up the box and gave him a dirty look. “This is poison.”

  He smiled. “I really don’t think it is.”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Did you put holes in my ceiling?” He rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. “I expected the walls, but the ceiling?”

  She narrowed her eyes and started opening cupboards. “Don’t try to change the subject. Now sit down. You have rice and lentils at least. I should be able to throw something together.”

  She kept muttering as she looked in the refrigerator and grabbed the one nod to fresh food he’d managed in London, a bag of mini carrots. Ben watched her bang around the kitchen, a smile on his face. The knots in his shoulders relaxed.

  Tenzin was here.

  Everything would be fine.

  ✕

  DESPITE the state of his pantry, Tenzin managed to put together a pilaf dish that would make most people weep. And while she cooked, he pulled out all the research he’d put together and spread it on the table in the dining room. The journals and pictures. The property records and satellite pictures. As she cooked, he prepared to make his case.

  “Tell me,” she said, setting down two bowls of pilaf and grabbing the chair next to him.

  “Brennus the Celt,” Ben said.

  “Didn’t know him.” Tenzin picked at her pilaf. “He was Carwyn’s grandsire. Carwyn’s mother, Maelona, was rumored to be the only surviving child of Brennus. She walked into the dawn almost a thousand years ago.”

  “But no one knows what happened to Brennus.”

  She shook her head. “Just rumors.”

  “And Brennus was rumored to have treasure stolen from the Romans. Welsh gold. Silver. Jewels and weapons.”

  Tenzin nodded slowly. “I have heard of this treasure.”

  Ben walked to the kitchen and grabbed his bottle of ale and another one for Tenzin. “Reports said that northern raiders were so in awe of Brennus’s wealth that they were struck dumb at the sight of it.” He walked back and handed her the beer before he sat again.

  “Cheers.” Tenzin tipped up her ale and drank. “And while the raiders were gaping, Brennus killed them. Chopped off their heads with his mighty blade.”

  “Yes. Now, before you start telling me it’s a—”

  “Legend. It’s a legend.” She shrugged. “Vampires have lots of legends, Ben. We get bored. We enjoy lying. We enjoy conning others of our kind when we can. It makes us feel superior.”

  “But Brennus’s treasure wasn’t just a legend. It existed at one time. Look.” He shoved the journals to her. “The wealth of the chieftain Brennus was mentioned twice by Tacitus.” He showed her another scan from the monk in the French court. “And in France by this priest. It was mentioned by multiple sources, not just one. Add to that the rumors in the immortal world and you have enough smoke that the fire has to exist.”

  She still looked skeptical.

  Ben said, “Brennus’s treasure existed.”

  “I agree, but that doesn’t mean it still exists.”

  “I don’t think it’s been found and broken up. A gold hoard of that size would have been noted.”

  “Unless it was found by another vampire. We tend to keep quiet when we find lots of money.”

  “True, but—”

  “And it might not be as big as you think. You have to remember, my Benjamin. Treasure in ancient Britain wasn’t like treasure in the more civilized world. Brennus was a chieftain, not an emperor. He wouldn’t have had a giant room filled with riches.”

  “Why not? Those did exist.”

  “But not here. Rome took most of Britain’s gold.” She looked out at the dark trees behind the house. “They took it far, far away. The gold Brennus was rumored to have might have been a single chest. It might have been next to nothing that he boasted of to make his enemies jealous.”

  “Was the Sanguine Raptor made up?”

  Her eyes sharpened. “No. If any part of that legend is true, it’s the Sanguine Raptor. I’ve heard too many details to doubt that. Rumors of it traveled all the way to Rome.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “A Celtic blade made of the particular kind of iron Brennus had perfected. Very strong. Very flexible. Jeweled hilt.”

  “What style?”

  “More a saber than a long sword. I’m not certain of that, but reports say that it was short—closer to the Roman gladius—and curved. Brennus forged his own iron. Earth vampire, remember?”

  “So if the Sanguine Raptor existed, why not the rest of the treasure? According to legends—”

  “Listen to yourself, Ben. According to legends.”

  “Legends come from somewhere!”

  She paused. “You’re not wrong. All I’m saying is that if this treasure exists, it might not be on the grand scale it’s made out to be. Is this really worth our time?”

  Ben shuffled his papers together. He didn’t need to convince Tenzin the treasure existed. After the past couple of summers, she owed him a job or two on faith. But Tenzin was a magpie and didn’t like parting with her money. She also didn’t like being bored. What he needed to do was convince her that looking for Brennus’s hoard was worth the effort.

  “This job, Tiny… You need to think bigger. It doesn’t matter if it’s monetarily worth it.”

  “Money always matters.”

  He folded his photos back into his notebook. “I’m thinking about reputation.”

  She grinned, her clawlike fangs glinting from the corner of her mouth. “I don’t think my reputation needs any work.”

  He put everything in his folder and closed it. “Well, mine does. I’m willing to lose money on this deal if it means my reputation gets a boost. And you might not be as reputable as you think you are.”

  She snorted.

  “Face it,” he said. “Right now you’re known as an assassin more than an antiquities hunter. People would hire you in a heartbeat to get rid of their enemies, but they’re not necessarily going to trust you with the family silver.”

  “Which they shouldn’t.” She leaned forward. “Because I would keep it all f
or myself if you let me.”

  “Which is why I need to build my reputation if we’re going to be partners. If we finish this job—”

  “Did someone hire you for this or did you come up with this idea yourself?”

  He sat back. “Finding a client is part of the job.”

  “You want to find a client to hire you to find a treasure you have already picked out?” Tenzin rested her chin on her hand. “Benjamin, I’m not sure you understand what contract work is about.”

  “We need to do this, Tiny.”

  “Says who?”

  “Me. You agreed to be partners.”

  “Yes, I did. But Brennus’s gold is the definition of a wild-goose chase. Hundreds of vampires have looked for this treasure. Hundreds. Why do you think you can find it?”

  “Satellite photos, human resources, and metal detectors.”

  Tenzin stared at him, then she threw her head back and started laughing.

  ✕

  SHE wasn’t laughing at him. Not really.

  Okay, maybe a little.

  She was laughing more at his ego. Her Benjamin was bold.

  “Satellite photos, human resources, and metal detectors.”

  Confidence had never been a problem for Ben.

  “Fine.” He glared at her as she wiped her eyes. “Laugh. But you’re going to do this for me, Tiny.”

  How long would it take to talk him out of this crazy scheme? And was there anything she wanted to do before she returned to New York? She’d already visited the Harry Potter studio. She’d visited the ravens at the Tower. There wasn’t much else—

  “Are you listening?” he asked. “You’re staying and you’re helping me because you owe me.”

  She frowned. “What do I owe you for?”

  He held up his hand. “Xinjiang.” One finger. “Shanghai.” Two fingers. “The freighter.” Five fingers went up.

  “That was years ago.”

  He held up his other hand. “Naples. Running for my life in Venice. Filomena.”

  “Hey! You walked into that one all on your own.”

  “Breaking into Hogwarts?”

  He sure had a lot of fingers held up.

  “I didn’t ask you to come and get me from Hogwarts,” Tenzin said. “I could have avoided those guards on my own.”

  “And I’m not even going to count the raccoon thing.”

  She pointed at him. “Raccoons are assholes. You know it. I know it. The whole world knows it.”

  “Fine.” He picked up his beer. “But you owe me.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t even think about arguing,” he said. “You’re going to help me, Tenzin. Or…”

  “Or what?” This ought to be good. She crossed her arms and waited for his worst.

  Ben smiled. “I’ll tell Giovanni you were the one who deleted his recording of the King of Iron Chefs ‘Chen versus Sakai’ battle.”

  Her smile almost fell. “You wouldn’t.”

  His raised eyebrow said he would. Ben could be cunning when he put his mind to it.

  “And the Chinese cabbage battle.”

  Tenzin’s eyes went wide.

  “Didn’t know I knew about that one, did you?”

  “I admit nothing.”

  Ben shrugged. “Doesn’t matter when he already suspects you.”

  “Both those episodes are on YouTube!” she snarled. “He’s just being stubborn.”

  “You know he hates watching TV on the computer.”

  Tenzin glared at him and stood. Damn conniving human.

  She was so proud.

  And irritated.

  “You’re going to help me,” Ben said. “I’m meeting with Gemma tomorrow night. Now that you’re here, I’m going to request a meeting with Tywyll.”

  She curled her lip. “That old man?”

  “Is he any older than you?”

  “I have no idea. Probably not.” She was pouting. She knew it. Tenzin hated when Ben bested her.

  Damn that Iron Chef Japan and its improbably entertaining kitchen battles.

  Ben said, “Tywyll was a contemporary of Brennus. According to Carwyn, he was in Cornwall when Brennus was in southern Scotland, but they wrote to each other regularly and Tywyll considers him a friend.”

  “Considers? As in presently?”

  “That’s the other thing. According to Terrance Ramsay, Tywyll thinks Brennus is just hiding.”

  “Tywyll thinks Brennus is alive?”

  “Yes.”

  Tenzin rolled her eyes. “Yes, he sounds like a brilliant source. Highly reliable.”

  “To be fair, no one witnessed Brennus’s death or even heard rumors of it. It was always assumed that he burned up somewhere because he disappeared, but there’s not any evidence of it. It’s possible he’s hiding. Haven’t you ever hidden from the world?”

  “I think my maximum was around a thousand years.” She squinted. “Maybe two.”

  Ben opened his laptop again. “Well, Brennus has only been missing for twelve hundred, so it’s entirely poss— Wait. Why are you smiling now?”

  “I was just thinking that stealing treasure from a hidden vampire is much more entertaining than finding lost treasure from a dead one.”

  He shook his head. “You’re twisted.”

  “You knew that already.” She stood and cleared the dishes. “So when do you want to start?”

  Chapter Two

  BEN WOULD LIKE TO SAY that the Swan with Two Necks lived up to its name.

  It didn’t.

  “This place is a dump,” Tenzin said.

  “I’m sure its regulars think it’s delightful, so try not to share that sentiment too loudly.”

  “Fine.” She whispered, “This place is a dump.”

  He smiled and hooked an arm around her neck. “Come on. The old man said he’d meet us inside.”

  The floating pub creaked when they stepped aboard. Then it creaked when Ben opened the door. In fact, Ben had a hard time imagining how the building remained afloat unless Tywyll kept it held together by the sheer force of his amnis.

  Which, according to his aunt, was entirely possible.

  Tywyll was a water vampire who could easily be as old as Tenzin, if not older. His reputation left everything to the imagination. He was a loner. He was not ambitious. But the River Thames was his water. And not a single vampire in England—not even Terrance Ramsay—disputed Tywyll’s claim on it. Ever.

  He was sitting in a booth when they walked in. Ben knew it was him because every other eye in the place turned toward them, glanced, then nodded toward the back corner booth. They walked toward the small man with pale skin. He was dark-haired and his face was lined. Tywyll wore the uniform of a man who worked on the river. Sturdy pants. Worn shirt fraying at the collar. Heavy shoes. Flat tweed cap.

  But his energy crackled. Ben knew he was approaching one of the most powerful vampires in Britain. What he wasn’t sure of—what no one was sure of—was whether Tywyll would be a friend or enemy that night.

  The vampire looked up as they approached and nodded toward the opposite bench. “Ye’d be Vecchio’s lad then.”

  “I am.” Ben thought about holding out his hand but didn’t. He made sure his pulse was steady and his breathing even.

  Tywyll turned his eyes on Tenzin. “And I’d bet my pint on ye being the windwalker.”

  “You wouldn’t be wrong,” Tenzin said.

  “What’re ye doin’ with this ’un?” Tywyll nodded at Ben. “He’s not yer sort.”

  “He’s my sort if I say he is.” Tenzin’s eyes went cold. “Don’t pretend you know me, old man.”

  Tywyll cackled. “Ye’ve as many years as me. Or maybe I have more. But fine. Say yer piece, young Vecchio.”

  Ben decided Tywyll would appreciate the direct approach best. This wasn’t a vampire who wanted niceties and charm. “We’re looking for the Sanguine Raptor,” he said. “According to rumors, you and Brennus were contemporaries. Some say friends. Are they correct?”


  Tywyll’s eyes went sharp. “The Sanguine Raptor, you say? And what’s that?”

  Ben smiled. “Brennus’s sword. A sword so famous Roman historians mentioned it. Are you saying you’ve never heard the name?”

  “Ah.” Tywyll took a long drink. “You’d be asking after the Fitheach Lann then.”

  “The what?”

  “Fitheach Lann, boy. The raven blade,” Tywyll said. “You’re looking for Brennus’s blade and you don’t even know the name of it?”

  Ben filed the information away. Some of his immortal sources had drawn parallels between the real vampire Brennus and the mythical figure of Bran the Blessed in Welsh mythology. Bran, “the Giant King.” The Raven King. In addition to the name similarities, the Sanguine Raptor was depicted as a curved Roman-era blade that resembled a falcata. More important to Tywyll’s leading questions was the hilt, which was drawn as a stylized raven with ruby eyes.

  “Forgive us, Tywyll. You’re correct. The Fitheach Lann sounds like the sword we’re looking for.”

  Tywyll narrowed his eyes. “And what greed possessed you to seek a sword not made for your hand?”

  “We don’t seek the Sanguine Raptor for ourselves. We’ve been hired to find it by someone in Brennus’s line.”

  “Is that so?” Tywyll said. “And who’d be that ’un?”

  Ben said, “That’s between me and my client. We haven’t been given permission to share that information. Not even with you.”

  “Ye’ve the look of truth. Or maybe the look of a good liar.” Tywyll nodded and took a long swallow of his ale. “You don’t have permission to say who seeks the sword. And Brennus didn’t give me permission to share where he buried the Fitheach Lann, so I suppose we’re at an impasse, ain’t we?”

  His uncle had said that Tywyll liked to play games, so Ben smiled. After all, games were supposed to be fun.

  “So you know where it is?” Ben asked.

  “Did I say that?”

  “You implied it.”

  Tywyll’s eyes glinted. “I might ’ave. Doesn’t change that Brennus ne’er gave me leave to share that piece with you.” He took another drink. “Not that ye’d be the first to ask about Brennus in the now and lately.”

  “Really?” Tenzin leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table. “Who else has been asking about Brennus?”