Page 64 of The Timeless Vigilante

Gen’s instincts guided her through the narrow corridors and around the many walls full of empty cases. The place that had been filled with medieval artifacts that afternoon was now ransacked. Many of the items were gone or bundled up in cases in the middle of the larger halls.

Although Gen wasn’t sure how many valuables had been stolen from the museum, she was going to find them all and return them to their place. This mission just got personal. If Gen didn’t get to have her family’s heirlooms then the people of the world would sure as hell get to see them on display in the museum. Thieves would not profit from them.

Just as Gen had this conviction, she sped into the first main room full of glass cases, many of them half occupied. The artifacts that had been emptied were all sitting on the plastic tarps, ready to be wrapped up and transported.

“Hurry! Hurry,” Hamilton Dixon yelled, waving his arms rapidly. “Grab what you can and get out the door!”

When Gen sprinted into the room, she halted, narrowing her eyes at the man on the far side of the large hall. He froze too. As did all the thieves holding various priceless objects.

“You!” he growled, his eyes full of hostility. “You don’t work for the Smithsonian.”

“And you don’t work for Scott Bernard,” Gen spat back. “Who do you work for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he countered, pointing a finger at her. “Get her so that we can get out of here!”

The men closest to Gen, holding artifacts, hurled the objects in her direction. She shot her hands into the air, using a freezing spell immediately, making the objects suspend in mid-air where she lowered them gently to the floor, unharmed.

“Not with the priceless artifacts, you fools!” Hamilton yelled, his face flushing furiously red. “And she’s a magician! Use your guns!”

Before the men could pull their guns, Gen made a defiant sweep of her hand, magically sending a blast of wind through the air to buy herself some time. It hit them with a gale-like force, thankfully not touching the artifacts beside her but nearly knocking the men reaching for their guns off their feet.

That gave Gen the time she needed for her next move. Instantly, she grabbed for Bellumferrum, telepathically calling for the enigmatic cube’s help. Like before, she didn’t know what it would become, only that it would read her dangerous situation and become the thing that would help her most. For a split second, Gen worried that the Weapon of War would become a gun to combat these men—she desperately didn’t want to fight fire with fire.

To her shock, Bellumferrum transformed into a metal can with a spigot on the top. Instantly, she intuitively knew it was something called an air horn. And thankfully, the Weapon of War told her how to use it which simply involved smashing the button on the top. That’s where the inside knowledge stopped though and Gen had no idea what to expect when she pressed the button.

For that reason, the deafening noise that shot through the air nearly made Gen’s heart jump out of her chest. Thankfully it shocked all the men too, making them freeze. The excruciatingly loud noise that cut through the air was joined by more commotion as the empty glass cases in the museum burst, shards flying all over the floors, making a cacophony of sounds. This was instantly followed by a loud siren as red lights started strobing and the alarms rang overhead.

“She’s triggered the backup alarm!” Hamilton yelled, motioning toward the door. “Get out of here! The police will be called!”

All the men abandoned the fight, running for the door, Hamilton in the lead. Gen slipped Bellumferrum back into her pocket, the object already resuming its cube shape. Launching herself forward, Gen hoped to catch the men before they got away. What she really needed to do was get a hold of Hamilton Dixon—then she was going to beat him until he spilled his secrets.

As she vaulted over the obstacles in her path, Gen’s gaze locked with Hamilton’s. He’d turned back to look at her through the glass doors. The once-trusted Director of Security now revealed as a traitor, narrowed his gaze at her, shaking his head with fury before spinning around and taking off. She knew all too well that she’d ruined everything for him, but that was only the beginning. Gen promised to really bring that man down and whoever he was working for since it obviously wasn’t the Director of LACMA.

The villains fled the museum, running for their steel chariots. They disappeared into large black vans, speeding away at once, the doors still open as they clambered in over each other. Hamilton jumped into a bright yellow sleek car that was long and low to the ground. It was much sexier than the bulky vans, its engine purring when he started it before tearing off down the road, after the other fleeing vehicles.

Gen emerged through the grand entrance, a lone warrior against the tide, her resolve as unyielding as the artifacts she vowed to protect. The night air crackled with tension as Gen looked around for her options.

From the rooftops, an elegant purple dragon as dark as the night landed with a swoosh and clatter of claws on the concrete. With his wings extended and a fierce expression of rebellion, Emperor looked back, over his shoulder at Gen. There was a glint of majesty in his gold eyes. “Need a ride?”

“I do,” she said, her heart palpitating with relief and excitement. Gen launched herself forward, throwing one leg around Emperor’s back as she slid easily into the saddle and hunched down low, ready for the take off and a nonstop pursuit through the streets of Los Angeles.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

URBAN OBSTACLE COURSE

Wilshire Boulevard, Los Angeles, California, United States

As the getaway vehicles sped off into the night, Gen, using only her mind, urged Emperor to stay hot on their tail. She knew this was their only chance to catch the thieves. The City of Los Angeles, with its congested, narrow streets and many obstacles, would either serve as an ally, helping them to catch Hamilton Dixon, or it would be their very undoing.

Leaving the sirens and shattered glass of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art behind, Gen kept her eyes honed on the yellow car whipping around corners ahead. In front of Hamilton’s vehicle were the black vans, their tires screeching, giving away their progress with each turn. The sights that Gen and Emperor passed were dizzying, speeding by as they flew between buildings, through the tight streets full of cars and people on the sidewalks.

Gen was all too aware of the stares and attention they were getting. Although the modern world was used to magic and crazy sights, a purple dragon racing after speeding vehicles was still quite out of the ordinary. It would be obvious to anyone on the perimeter that there was a chase happening and many held up their mobile devices of devotion and took pictures as they flew by.

The pair glided just high enough to keep the yellow car and vans ahead of it in view. However, it put them at a dangerous height, in line with many obstacles like street lights, lamp posts, and wires that traversed precariously across the road, up high. The height of objects like signs and awnings were meant to be out of pedestrian and vehicles’ ways, but they were creating quite the obstacles for Emperor to navigate around.

Still, Gen didn’t want to risk flying higher and not being able to catch the fleeing villains. Once she and Emperor gained on them, she planned to blast them to a full stop, trapping the thieves and getting to the bottom of what happened at the museum. Corruption was at play and it felt like something dark and sinister hiding under the surface. As a Rogue Rider, Gen policed criminals, but they could only do that if it was in their view. Whatever Hamilton Dixon was up to was definitely happening under the radar and that was simply unacceptable.

The bond between rider and dragon surged with electrifying intensity as they rocketed after their prey. The dragon’s scales gleamed beneath the neon glow of Wilshire Boulevard’s iconic signs, their reflections dancing across his iridescent hide like a kaleidoscope of urban magic.

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