“The money’s been deposited in our bank accounts. It’s been verified.” Forgetting herself, Malory reached for a cookie. Moe immediately dropped his heavy head on her knee. “Could you call off your dog?”
“Not as long as you’ve got cookies. These two people, whom you don’t know, gave each of you twenty-five grand to look for magic keys? Did they have any beans for sale? A golden goose, maybe?”
“The money’s real,” Malory said stiffly.
“And what if you don’t deliver? What’s the penalty?”
“We lose a year.”
“You’re, what, indentured to them for a year?”
“A year gets taken away from us.
” Zoe looked at her watch again. She really had to go.
“What year?”
She gave him a blank look. “Well, I . . . The last year, I guess. When we’re old.”
“Or this year,” he said and pushed to his feet. “Or next. Or ten years back, if we’re being weird, which we sure as hell are.”
“No, that can’t be.” Pale now, Zoe shook her head. “It can’t be from before. That would change everything. What if it’s the year I had Simon, or the year I got pregnant? That can’t be.”
“No, it can’t, because none of this can be.” He shook his head and looked down at his sister. “Where’s your head, Dana? Didn’t it occur to you that when you don’t come up with the goods these people might hurt you? Nobody dumps that kind of money on strangers. Which means you’re not strangers to them. For whatever reason, they know you. They’ve looked into you.”
“You weren’t there,” Dana said. “Eccentric is definitely apt in their case. Psychotic isn’t.”
“Besides, there’s no motive for them to hurt us.”
He spun back to Malory. No, he wasn’t affable now, she realized, but annoyed. And working his way rapidly to irate. “And there is one for them to dump big gobs of money on you?”
“I’ve got to go.” Zoe’s voice shook as she grabbed her bag. “I have to get to Simon. My son.”
She streaked out, and Dana leaped to her feet. “Nice job, Flynn. Very nice job scaring the single mother witless.” She bolted after Zoe, hoping to calm her.
He jammed his hands in his pockets, stared hard at Malory. “You scared?”
“No, but I don’t have a nine-year-old boy to worry about. And I don’t believe Pitte or Rowena wants to hurt us. Besides, I can take care of myself.”
“Why do women always say that after they’ve gotten themselves in a really big jam?”
“Because men usually come along and make things worse. I’m going to look for the key, as I agreed to do. We all are. So would you.”
She had him there. He jingled the change in his pocket, considered. Cooled off. “What did they tell you would happen if you found the keys?”
“The souls would be unlocked. And we’d each get a million dollars. And yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds. You had to be there.”
“When you add that these three goddesses are currently sleeping in crystal beds in a castle behind the Curtain of Dreams, I guess you did have to be there.”
“They have a painting of the Daughters of Glass. They look like us. It’s a brilliant painting. I know art, Hennessy, and this is no paint-by-numbers deal. It’s a goddamn masterpiece. It has to mean something.”
His face sharpened with interest. “Who painted it?”
“It wasn’t signed, not that I could see.”
“Then how do you know it’s a masterpiece?”
“Because I know. It’s what I do. Whoever painted it has an amazing talent, and a great love and respect for the subject matter. That sort of thing shows. And if they’d wanted to hurt us, why didn’t they do something last night, when we were all there? Dana was there, alone with them, before I arrived. Why not bash her over the head and chain her in the dungeon, then do the same with me, with Zoe. Or drug the wine? I’ve already thought about all that, already asked myself all the questions. And I’ll tell you why. Because they believe everything they told us.”