Page 36 of Phoenix's Last Heist
“Can I help you?” A disembodied voice slides over the nearest aisle of books. To say it’s unnerving is an understatement, and it sends my pulse racing.
“I’m here for Fobos,” I reply, craning my neck to find the source of the sound.
“You’ve found him,” the voice returns in a smooth drawl. “But I don’t have your name, stranger.”
With the soft shuffle of books sliding onto shelves and the gentle tap of hard-soled shoes against the expensive wooden floor, he emerges from the aisle to my left.
Fobos is a Senterion—an alien from the outer reaches of the Eternia galaxy. No one knows where they originated or how many are left, but those who do remain hold vast stores of wealth and power. He is roughly my height, with smooth golden skin and piercing red eyes. Two long, curved horns protrude from his forehead. Long black hair sweeps down his back over hisglittering silver suit—like mine in style, but made from some luxurious metallic fabric. On his feet, he wears a pair of white boots made from some mysterious reptilian skin.
“Alonius Laesher,” I reply, stepping further into the room. I’m reaching for the confidence I don’t really feel, but the chance of sending the Feds after this bastard is just enough motivation for me.
He tilts his head at me, studying me with thinly-veiled interest. “From whence do you hail, Laesher?”
Static crackles in my earpiece as Lyra groans loudly.
“I forgot these assholes always sound like they’re about to launch into a soliloquy,” she grumbles. “Thou art a fucking pain in my ass, Fobos.”
I smile. “Oh, all over. I never stay in one place too long.”
“That sounds rather lonely,” Fobos replies. “How fortunate that you should find your way to my casino. Plenty of people seek company here—unless, of course, you prefer your solitude.” His red eyes narrow as he looks me up and down, appraising me with an invasive judgment that makes my skin itch. A predatory grin tugs at his lips, baring his sharp, triangular teeth.
“My business demands it, I’m afraid,” I say, shifting uneasily. If only Lyra would hurry up.
“Ah, your business,” he echoes, eyes flicking to the briefcase in my hand, his nostrils flaring on an inhale. “Presumably that’s what brings you to me?”
“If we could go somewhere more secure, I’d like to show you something,” I say, raising the briefcase in front of me.
“Oh, we’re quite secure in my little library,” he says smoothly. “And it’s just us back here.”
The wink he adds would be alluring if I didn’t get the sense I’ve somehow become prey dancing in front of a predator. His eyes glitter a little too much in the dim room—his sharp-toothed smile stretches a little too wide.
Lyra’s choked laughter rings through the earpiece.
“Hell yeah, Ranger. Get some!” she cackles.
It takes every ounce of strength to remain calm and collected. Under Fobos’ watchful ruby gaze, I cross over to a large table in the middle of the room and the airtight case hisses as I unlock it. The Solar Mother idol glitters inside.
Fobos emits a quiet gasp, and even Lyra grows silent on the other end of the comms.
“Do you know what this is?” I ask, watching as lust and hunger sparks in the Senterion’s gaze.
“Of course I do,” he sneers. “The Solar Mother idol!” His seductive charm has all but evaporated under the weight of his greed.
“I have a buyer,” I say warily. “But perhaps you might offer me a better deal. I’ve been told you trade in Xylothian artifacts.”
Some of the frenzied desire in his eyes hardens to suspicion and he raises a brow.
“Pray tell, who told you such a thing?” Fobos reaches forward to stroke one claw-tipped finger down the idol and I clench my fists to avoid slamming the case shut on his hand.
“Donottell him you know me, Ranger,” Lyra warns in my ear. “Just be vague, okay? Don’t offer any more information than you have to.”
I clear my throat. “Let’s just say I’ve heard more than a few rumors about the Nebula Gems in the outskirts of the galaxy,” I try, mustering as much confidence as I can. It’s difficult with Fobos’ unsettling red eyes boring into mine.
“The Nebula Gems?” Fobos blinks, then tilts his head back and laughs, and I’m worried I made some kind of misstep. The sound cracks through the silence of the library and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Fobos pulls his hand away from the case and I close it, locking it tightly and drawing it close to my body. I hate havingthe idol out of the stasis cabinet almost as much as I hate having it outside the temple where it belongs.
His unnerving smile returning, Fobos beckons me deeper into the library, guiding us toward a back wall. Set into the wall are small metal doors, almost undetectable to the eye. Fobos places his hand against one of the metal panels and a soft blue light emerges from beneath, scanning his handprint with a low hum. A small vault pops open, revealing a medium-sized black case. My heart thuds to a stop in my chest.
