The Stage is Set

The Partyn Museum

Crown Jewels Exhibit

There was only one display in the Crown Jewel Exhibit, and the entire room was dedicated to the experience. The open space stretched as large as a theater.

Although Zosia couldn’t make out the details on the ceiling, the shifts in color and hazy shapes hinted that a mural stretched overhead. Beneath her boots, the stone floor matched that of the museum’s entrance hall, but here it was far less worn. Lamp holders dotted the walls, but only two glowed with moon crystals. Zosia took in everything quickly as her attention was drawn to the nearest display case.

The gold-leaf podium stood in a line of identical displays, placed proudly down the center of the room. Each podium was crowned with a glass box. When the light passed over the windows, the glass containers reflected it beautifully, almost shimmering from the light’s caress. As Zosia leaned closer, she realized the glass was cut to magnify the item within. Nestled upon their cushions of purple silk, one to a podium, were the six crown jewels of the fallen Empire.

As if separate from the lights in the room, the gem in front of Zosia glimmered, more resplendent than the night sky. A quick glance down the line of podiums saw that the other nearby jewels shone dully against their cushions, but the one in front of Zosia gave off an alluring sparkle that was only visible when she leaned close.

This must be one of the real ones.

Her mission debrief had explained how the mayor, in a self-conscious panic, had ordered replacements carved from dyed common moonstone for the four gems that had already been stolen. The fakes were lovely, and probably enough to fool the public during daylight visiting hours. In natural light, no one would be able to tell. It was only now, at night with the lights down low, that the true gems revealed themselves with their entrancing, otherworldly sparkle that no moon crystal could ever hope to replicate.

Zosia felt a deep tug towards the gem resting on its purple cushion. Through the magnifying glass, it appeared to be the size of her hand. It was astounding, flickering with light as if the galaxy itself had been chiseled into a stone. She had never seen a prettier crystal. The worth of just one would be immense; it was no wonder people were trying to steal them.

A footstep echoed through the room.

Zosia spun around, her baton out and ready. “Who’s there?”

“My, my,” a voice called through the dark. It was clearly a woman, her voice clear and almost musical, although the sound was slightly filtered to Zosia’s ears—as though the words were spoken through a veil. “What do we have here?”

A chill raced down Zosia’s back. She spun around, looking for the source.

There, behind the last display box at the far end of the room, stood a woman. Either she hadn’t been there or Zosia had somehow failed to notice her when she had entered the room.

Zosia stepped away from the podium, facing the suspicious arrival. The woman was dressed in the now familiar museum uniform. The knee-length skirt clung tight against the curve of long, bare legs. Down the front of her jacket marched an orderly line of golden buttons and a matching scarf wrapped around her head, hiding the lower half of her face. A few meandering curls of sunset pink hair escaped to fall against her forehead. As she took another step forward, Zosia could see intense green eyes that twinkled with a mischievous spark.

Zosia’s heart thundered in her chest. She was aware of the distance to the windows, the steps to the door behind her, the—

“Whatever you’re thinking of, don’t,” the woman replied easily. Her voice was smooth, flowing. Even beneath the fabric of the scarf, she projected it with the confidence of someone who wanted to be heard. “I work here. Just trying to do my job.”

She eyed Zosia with amusement. It might be a farce, but to Zosia, it looked like this woman thought she had all the time in the world.

“Pardon me,” Zosia said as lifted her baton, mindful of the stretch of marble floor separating them, “but you don’t seem like you work here.”

“Oh?” The woman tipped her head to the side. “What makes you think that?”

“The museum employees I encountered were, regrettably, unconscious,” Zosia said as she clutched her baton. “You are not.”

The woman tutted. “My coworkers are just taking a nap,” she said and Zosia could hear the smile tinting her words. Above the mask, the woman’s eyes dragged over Zosia like a rake over coals. “It is the middle of the night, after all.” She shrugged, as if it was an obvious assumption to make.

“Right.” Zosia raised an eyebrow. “And should I just pretend that we aren’t both wearing masks?”

The woman laughed at that, causing her scarf to billow slightly. Beneath the red fabric, Zosia saw the strap of something black—it couldn’t have been too different from Zosia’s own air purification mask.

The woman reached a hand up to gently re-secure her scarf behind her ear, hiding the corner of the mask from view. Zosia was starkly aware that her other hand remained behind her, unseen. “Well. At least mine is rather fashionable.”

“Mmhmm,” Zosia replied. This woman was clearly playing games and Zosia was unsure whether or not she was concealing a weapon. She needed to tread carefully here—although unconscious, there were both museum workers and the martial guard lying about. A skirmish would be dangerous for everyone.

“Forgive me, but it’s rather suspicious that you’re the only museum worker who thought to bring a mask tonight.” Still holding her baton securely in her right hand, Zosia extended her left. “I’m going to need to see your museum badge.”

“Happily. Right after you show me your museum ticket—assuming you paid to visit? This establishment isn’t a charity, you know.”

Zosia scoffed. “I’m with the police.”

“Oh?” the woman looked surprised. “Is that so? Then I’ll need to see your police badge.”

“You’re at a crime scene.” Zosia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead keeping them trained on the woman in front of her. “There are bodies lying all the way down the hall. Tell me what police officer is going to be stupid enough to dig out their badge to show it to the only person in sight—the prime suspect?” Zosia lifted her baton a bit higher, threateningly. Her gaze dipped for half a second—enough time to note the strip of leather hugging tightly around the woman’s hip. The other workers hadn’t been wearing belts. Could be a weapon there, too.

“Some of them are,” the woman replied with a shrug, the playful look in her eyes pulling Zosia’s attention back to her face. “It was worth a try.”

“Careful with the insults. You’re talking to the police.”

“Oh, am I?” she drawled. “Still haven’t seen your badge.” She raked her eyes up and down Zosia. “Although you do look the part. That uniform? It really suits you.”

She took a measured step closer to Zosia. Shadows danced over her body, pooling in the curves accentuated by her uniform. She moved lithe and cat-like through the dark.

Zosia fought against the instinctual urge to step back. Instead, she held her ground and pointed the tip of her baton towards the woman’s chest.

“Keep your distance,” she said as she flicked the end of the baton towards the display cases, then back, “and answer my questions. Did you take a jewel?”

“A jewel?” the woman asked, flipping her free hand around in a gesture of ignorance. “What are you talking about?”

Zosia could feel the vein on her forehead begin to pulse. She’d played along for long enough. It was time to get to business.

“The jewels,” Zosia snapped, gesturing to the row of priceless stones, most of them fakes. Even the imitations, with their careful chiseling and high level of clarity, were likely each worth more than a year of her detective salary. The cases down the end of the hall were too far away in the dark to tell if they still contained an authentic crystal or not. “Did you take one or not?”

“Ah,” the woman said, nodding dramatically. “Those jewels. Well, now that you’ve mentioned it…” She shifted, her hidden arm moving, causing Zosia to tense. “I may have picked one up.”

Zosia stiffened as the woman’s previously concealed hand emerged from behind her. She wasn’t holding a weapon. Instead, one of the jewels was cradled in her gloved fingers. Free from its container, the gem was much smaller than it had appeared behind the magnified glass. It was actually about the size of an acorn. It glowed with a pulsing, almost alive light.

As Zosia watched, the woman held the jewel towards the windows, turning it this way and that. She spun the stone, her eyes looking at it casually, like how one would size up a tasty-looking pastry before taking a bite.

“You know, they’ve been parading them for days—even the fakes. It’s like they’re asking me to steal them.”

“I don’t suppose you’d give it to me if I asked,” Zosia said lowly, never taking her gaze from the other woman.

The thief laughed lightly. “What kind of a question is that? No, I don’t suppose I would. Although…”

In a flash, the easy-going look in her eyes was exchanged for something sharper. Zosia could almost picture a devilish grin beneath the fabric concealing her mouth. “You could try to take it from me.”

Zosia tightened her grip on the baton. “I might.”

The thief laughed lightly again, swinging her free arm behind her. This time, when it reappeared, it held a long, thin fencing blade. Zosia squashed the flicker of feeling impressed—it was a feat to have somehow hidden the weapon in her uniform. Still, in this situation, it wasn’t something she had time to admire.

The thief turned her sword to Zosia, the thin blade there and then gone in the dark. It didn’t take a detective to deduce that it was longer and significantly sharper than a baton. After all, Zosia’s weapon was meant for self-defense and intimidating the occasional threat into backing down. The chief had been right—it was the martial squad who was supposed to be handling any serious fighting. They, however, were out cold on the ground.

Zosia’s baton would have to do—but they both knew that Zosia’s chances of victory would be slim in a one-on-one battle. The thought was bitter in her mouth.

Meanwhile, the thief’s eyes were crinkled in what could only be a devious grin. She knew exactly how the stage was set.

Zosia’s mind raced. It would be stupid for her to try to engage directly with things not in her favor. Anyone could see that. Perhaps she could talk a viable way out of this?

“Why are you still here?” Zosia asked, keeping the woman in her line of sight. She wondered if the police in the courtyard would be able to see them from below, or if they were too far from the windows. “If you have the gem, shouldn’t you be long gone by now?”

A laugh, hearty and decidedly unhurried, echoed through the room. Zosia tensed.

“I was waiting for you.”

Zosia’s heart missed a beat at those words, distracting her as the thief stepped closer. Zosia pushed her baton, only for the other woman to press her chest against it. She looked at Zosia, as if goading her, as the wood pressed slightly into the maroon fabric covering her breasts, denting into where her chest rose and fell. At the same time, her sword traced lightly over Zosia’s side, catching on the hem of Zosia’s jacket.

They were locked in a tense standoff with neither willing to make the first move. Outside, the police searchlight swung across the windows before moving on.

Zosia swallowed. What a situation to be caught in.

They were close enough that Zosia could smell a hint of the other woman’s perfume. Even through her mask, she caught faded notes of toasted spices from the southern islands followed by something deeper that Zosia didn’t have time to identify.

“Well?” the thief whispered.

Zosia’s mind whirred, trying to spin up a reply, when a shout echoed from below. She couldn’t tell if the sound was outside the window or inside the museum. A moment later, she recognized the bellow of Chief Ainsley. Outside, then.

In tandem with the chaos outside, Zosia could now also hear noises from somewhere far behind her—the hallway? It was too soon for the unconscious guards to wake up, so they must have sent in backup. Not what I asked for, but so be it.

“Ahhh,” the thief sighed, Zosia’s baton rising and dipping with the motion.

She didn’t dare press her weapon any further, not with that deadly sword chasing patterns against her thigh.

“Looks like my time is just about up. I’d best be off.” She gave Zosia a wink, tracing the flat of her thin blade just a bit higher.

It took every ounce of self-control for Zosia to repress a shiver at the blade’s caress. She grit her teeth. “And what makes you think I’d let you go so easily?”

The gem shone in the light, still clutched in the thief’s fingers. Down the hall, the voices were getting closer.

“While there are certain things I’d stay for,” the thief said, giving Zosia a look that restarted the shivers down her back, “I’m afraid I really am out of time tonight. Besides… I have a feeling we’ll meet again soon.”

Someone shouted, close enough to almost make Zosia jump. They must have found the bodies.

“Well then,” the thief said. She hesitated for a moment, just as the searchlight swung back around. This time, however, the light froze—locked on the windows of the Crown Jewel Exhibit.

The woman stood framed in the pool of light as it spilled blindingly through the windows. Zosia squinted, trying to keep the thief in her line of sight. Like this, with her sword out and jewel clutched in hand, surrounded by a dazzling halo, she looked ethereal—equal parts alluring and dangerous.

She took a step backward to the window, causing Zosia’s baton to droop slightly.

Zosia’s stomach lurched. As if pulled by a magnet, she mirrored the thief’s motion, stepping forward, pressing her weapon back against the other woman, as if it would be enough to pin her in place. Zosia wanted to grab her—wanted to tear off the mask and wipe the smirk from her words. Conflicting emotions warred inside of Zosia, sharpening into the desire to keep this woman right where she was.

“You can’t just—” Zosia started.

A flash of silver whizzed by her ear. Zosia hadn’t even seen the blade swing up. Her mask slipped.

“Shit—!” she cried, clutching the mask over her mouth. Without it, she’d be no better off than the bodies on the floor.

The thief already had one leg propped up on the window ledge. The mirth was clear in her voice. “We’ll play again later, I’m sure. Just don’t make this too easy for me. Okay?”

In a smooth motion, she flipped her blade around, tightened her grip on the hilt, and slammed it into the window. The glass shattered at the impact, sending a storm of shards glittering into the searchlight beacons. Voices yelled in the courtyard.

Zosia started forward, her heart pounding against her rib cage as she pressed her broken mask over her nose and mouth. “Don’t—!”

The woman lifted the hand holding the jewel to her mask-covered lips. She tipped it slightly towards Zosia as she winked. Even with half of her face covered, the gesture was unmistakable.

Then, her long, toned legs tensing, she leaped through the space where the window had been with the grace of a cat—straight into the beacon of light.

From this height!?!

Shielding her eyes from the direct beacon, Zosia ran to the window. Glass crunched beneath her boots. There was a flash of pain in her hand as she gripped the jagged edge of the window, but she ignored it to scour the bricks of the courtyard far below.

She squinted into the rain and light-filled night, only to see the small faces of police officers in their dark uniforms looking back up at her. They continued to yell, pointing towards something that Zosia couldn’t see. Laughter split the air, louder than the sound of the rain, but quickly faded into the distance.

The police continued to yell far below, and then in the room behind Zosia. She pulled her hand away from the window and clenched it, barely noticing the blood dripping onto the glass-strewn floor. In the burning light of the beacon, the red-coated shards sparkled like a thousand small jewels.