The Spider Thief (35 page)

Slowly, Michael said, “By ‘creep’ I assume you mean efficient. Raph does what he does very well. He’s useful that way.”

Soft footsteps came in from the garage and stopped in the doorway behind Geneva. She got that creepy feeling on the back of her neck she got whenever Raph was staring at her. She didn’t turn around.

Michael looked past her, the expression on his face going serious. “Yes?”

Behind her, Raph’s gravelly voice: “It’s just like you said.”

Michael nodded. “Take care of it, then. You and Gabe.”

Raph made a low sound, like a grunt, and then his footsteps slipped away into the garage.

Geneva kept watching Michael’s face, trying to see what was going on beneath the surface. Then the moment was gone, and Michael gave her a warm smile.

“Don’t worry, Genie.” He patted her leg. “Raph and Gabe just have to run an errand.”

“I thought I did all the errands already.”

He just kept smiling, but she could see the look in his eyes, like he was thinking fast. It scared her, seeing it up close, and it pissed her off, too. She knew he was lying. She could see it.

She pushed his hand away and got up. Without any particular plan in mind, she grabbed a pack of lightbulbs from the bag and went down the hall toward Michael’s bedroom.

“Genie?” His chair scraped as he got up. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Just going to fix that lamp in your room.”

“No, it’s fixed. It’s done. Genie?” He trotted down the hall after her.

Someone had put a shiny new deadbolt on his door. On the outside.

“Geneva?” All the warmth was gone from his voice. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“Like finding out what you’ve been hiding from me?” She turned the deadbolt knob and pushed the door open.

All the furniture had been taken out of the room, leaving only the bare concrete floor. In the middle of it sat a fat gray-haired man in a white collared shirt spotted with blood. He was duct-taped to a wooden chair, a rectangle of silver tape over his mouth.

In his eyes, she could see terror. He tried to talk through the tape. He fought against the chair, scraping across the floor toward her.

“Oh, God.” Geneva backed out of the room. “Michael? What the hell is this?”

Michael reached past her and closed the door, blocking her view of the man. He turned the lock knob, and metal scraped. He leaned down close, so close all she could look at was his dark eyes.

“This,” he said softly, “is part of the mission.”

*

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Conspiracy of Angels
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THE SPIDER THIEF

Laurence MacNaughton

Copyright © 2014

All Rights Reserved.

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