Page 84 of Treachery in the Highlands
The massive entrance hall of the Met swallows us like a giant marble monster.Myriad voices echo in the hollow space.Rachel gasps beside me, her fingers tightening around mine as she takes in the soaring ceilings and imposing statues.
"Och, 'tis like a cathedral," she whispers.
I spot an information desk and make a beeline for it, Rachel trailing behind me with her eyes darting everywhere.The middle-aged woman behind the counter gives Rachel's medieval Scottish attire an appraising look.
"Shakespeare in the Park," I explain."My fiancée is playing Cordelia inKing Lear."
The woman lifts her brows briefly, then offers us a practiced smile."Welcome to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.How can I help you today?"
I clear my throat, channeling the confident persona I'd perfected during my years of talking my way into places where I didn't belong."I'm a professor at Edinburgh University, working on a project about Scottish artifacts in American collections.My fiancée is tagging along to help me.We're particularly interested in examining any medieval Scottish texts you might have, especially those related to Highland clans."
Rachel stands tall beside me, her posture shifting subtly into something more regal."Aye.We're especially focused on clan histories from the Highlands, particularly texts that might contain...unusual illustrations or symbols."
The woman types something into her computer."Most of our Scottish medieval manuscripts are in the European Collections.Some are on display in Gallery 304, but many are in our archives."She peers at us over her reading glasses."Do you have an appointment with our curator?"
"Not yet," I say smoothly."We just arrived in the city and wanted to see what was on public display before requesting a more formal consultation."
"I see."She hands us a museum map, circling an area with her pen."The medieval European galleries are this way.If you'd like to arrange a viewing of the archived materials, you'll need to speak with Dr.Winters.His office is on the third floor, but he typically requires academic credentials and advance notice."
Fuck.Credentials?I'm not that good a thief.Snatching a necklace---no problem.Forging diplomas?That's way beyond my wheelhouse.
"Thank you kindly," Rachel says, her Scottish accent drawing an appreciative smile from the woman.
As we walk away, Rachel whispers, "What are these academic credentials?"
"Letters that say I'm a real professor," I mutter, steering her toward the medieval exhibits."Which I'm definitely not.I dropped out of college after one semester."
Rachel's brow furrows."But you speak with such authority.Surely that counts for something."
A laugh snorts out of me."In my line of work---formerline of work---sounding like you know what you're talking about is half the battle.But these museum types need paper proof."
We wander into a gallery that's filled with glass cases containing ancient manuscripts, armor, and ornate weapons.Rachel gasps, her fingers clenching around mine as she recognizes pieces similar to those she'd grown up seeing.
"Joey," she whispers, pressing her face close to a display containing a worn leather-bound book."Look at this.The patterns along the binding---they're like the ones in my father's study."
I lean in, studying the intricate knotwork patterns etched into the leather.They do bear a striking resemblance to the designs I'd seen in Rachel's family castle.
"You're right, Rachel."I squint so I can read the small descriptive plaque."Purported Scottish witchcraft manual, circa 1400s, acquired from the estate of Lord Loughty in 1932.Believed to contain herbal remedies and folklore from the western Highlands."
Rachel's breath catches."Lord Loughty?That canna be a coincidence.Clan Loughty were bitter enemies of the MacTaggarts for generations until finally made peace.But the last Lord Loughty died in the nineteen forties with no children to carry on the line."
"But this Loughty guy might have stolen your family's book?"I keep my voice low as a security guard passes by.
"Or one very like it."Rachel presses closer to the glass, her fingers hovering just above the surface."I can feel something...a faint pulse of energy."
The display case seems to shimmer, visible only to my eyes and Rachel's.A soft golden glow emanates from between the pages of the ancient tome, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"It's calling to you, isn't it?"I position myself to block the security camera's view of Rachel's hand."Can you tell if it's the right one?"
Rachel closes her eyes, her fingers splayed just above the glass."Aye, this is the one.I feel it in my bones, in my soul.This book belongs to the MacTaggarts.We must reclaim it."
"Okay then, that's what we'll do."I press my lips to her ear, whispering too softly for anyone to hear."I'm going to steal the book tonight."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rachel
"Steal it?"I whisper."Joey, couldnae ye be arrested for that?My mother has told me many things about the future, and I recall when she explained that criminals are sent to prison---often for years or even decades.Dinnae want that to happen to you."
