Greywalker - Kat Richardson [111]
“Are you sure? We can go if you want.”
“No, it’s important that I know about that organ.”
Will sighed. “All right. But you’ll be OK till I get back, right?”
“Yeah.”
He gave me several glances over his shoulder before he was swallowed again by the doorway. I sat a while, panting, and thought I heard something shrieking in the Grey. I felt better as soon as it stopped. I stood on loose legs and walked around to the front of the house.
To my eyes, the windows of the organ’s den were dark. They neither shed nor reflected any light. The house that had seemed so pretty on Saturday now looked like something from a horror film, the stonework overgrown with veins of fire and writhing Grey vines. I felt a scratching along the surfaces of my bones. I slammed a mental door against the persistence of vision and scurried back to my seat on the steps.
I felt stronger by the time Will returned, smiling and chatting to the curator as they parted company at the door. She stayed on the porch.
I looked up at Will. “Well?”
He dropped onto the steps beside me, folded like a paper crane, and made a face. “Well . . . it matches the description technically, but. . . .” He shook his head. “It’s not worth whatever your client’s put into finding it. A lot of the decoration is bone and ivory that’s . . . nonstandard. Modifications and repairs aren’t unusual for an item like this, but . . .” He chewed his lower lip and looked at the ground. “My gut says there’s something wrong. It doesn’t even play, really. The whole thing’s kind of unsettling. But it doesn’t matter, because the current museum board won’t sell.”
“Why not?” I asked. I looked back at the woman on the porch.
She shook her head and called out, “It’s the only Tracher parlor organ they could find, and current policy won’t allow us to sell anything that matches original inventory. They’re freaking out over the idea of permanent reductions. Though after what Will said, I think we’d be better off without it.”
I hung my head, worn out, and sighed. “I know it’s an imposition, but can I bring one more expert to look at it?”
“Sure, if you think it’ll help. Especially if it covers the board’s butt.”
“It’ll have to be after hours. This guy’s not available during the day.”
“Oh. Well, get in touch with me and we’ll work it out. I’d like to hear we didn’t buy a screaming fake.”
We both thanked her for her time and we left the museum. Crossing the street, I turned for one more look at the organ’s resting place. The ground seemed to roll beneath my feet as I looked a little sideways of normal. The Grey snapped open, showing me an angry tangle of burning lines and shapes, boiling in a restless, sobbing mist. I jerked myself away from it, feeling a biting pain in my chest, and stumbled against Will. He held tight to my arm as we let ourselves out the driveway gate.
We stopped beside the Rover. “Are you sure you feel OK?” Will asked.
“I’m fine. Probably just something I ate.”
“Bull. We ate the same thing and I feel fine.” He noticed the hard set of my mouth. “You don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, I don’t.”
He sighed. “All right. We’ll keep this professional. I’ll see if I can dig up anything about this organ. I got numbers off the action and case, and Tracher may still have some records I can start with. I’ll let you know what I find.”
“Thanks, Will.”
He looked me over again, shook his head. “You know Mikey’s going to grill me about you this evening, don’t you?”
I gave a weak laugh.“Poor Will.Terrorized by a sixteen-year-old.”
“Hey, there’s a sixty-year-old Jewish mother in that sixteen-year-old body. Mike’s not sure you’re good for me.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’m very bad for you. Very bad indeed.”
“Mmm . . . very bad,” he agreed. He leaned forward and kissed me, nibbling my lower lip. He murmured against my mouth, “I won’t ask if you’re OK, ’cause you’re just going to stonewall me some more if I do.”
I nodded. “Yep.”
He sighed and backed off. “All right. But I will worry and you can’t stop me. Be careful, Harper.”
“I will.