Chapter 17: The Storage Room Interrogation
The gallery was a furnace of light and conversation, every surface gleaming under the carefully angled spotlights. Beth's photographs lined the walls like windows into another world—crashing waves frozen mid-roar, a child's bare feet on wet sand, Marty's face caught in a moment of pure wonder as he watched the ocean for the first time. People drifted through the space in small clusters, wine glasses in hand, their murmurings a low tide of appreciation and critique.
Mandy stood near the entrance with Ben and Jess, her body still humming from the afternoon's revelations. She'd been watching the room with half her attention, the other half replaying the feel of two sets of hands on her skin, when something snagged her peripheral vision.
A man in a charcoal suit, too warm for Miami in early summer, was moving through the crowd with purpose. He wasn't looking at the photographs. His gaze was fixed on a door at the back of the gallery, half-hidden behind a velvet curtain. The storage room.
Mandy's spine went rigid. The memory surfaced unbidden—her parents frozen in marble, their faces caught in expressions of mild irritation while Alban the Unseelie smirked in some hidden corner. The first time the museum had tried to hold this exhibition, it had been a trap. A way to get her family in one place.
"Jess," she said, her voice low. "You see him?"
Jess turned, her sharp eyes tracking Mandy's gaze. The Golden Wand agent had been on alert all evening, her posture relaxed but her attention never fully leaving the crowd. Now she straightened almost imperceptibly, her hand drifting to the small device clipped to her belt.
"Charcoal suit. Sweating. Doesn't look like he's here for the art." Her lips barely moved. "I've got a stunner in my purse. Wand-modified."
"Good." Mandy scanned the room quickly. Ben shifted beside her, his body tensing with awareness. She caught his eye and gave a small shake of her head, then gestured toward Beth across the room. "Stay with her. Don't let her notice anything's wrong. And don't let Marty get spooked."
Ben's jaw tightened. He looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Mandy's expression made him stop. His eyes flicked between her and Jess, then he gave a short nod and moved toward where Beth was laughing at something a patron had said.
Mandy turned to Jess. "Let's go say hello."
They moved through the crowd without urgency, easy to miss in the press of bodies. The velvet curtain was worn, its burgundy velvet soft under Mandy's fingers as she pushed through. A narrow hallway opened before them, smelling of old ink and damp cardboard. The neon sign at the far end flickered, casting jagged shadows across half-empty frames propped against the walls.
"There," Jess breathed, her voice barely audible. The man was at the far end of the hall, working at the door to the storage room with a thin metal tool. His shoulders were hunched, his movements quick and furtive.
Mandy nodded once. They closed the distance with quiet steps, Mandy's sandals barely whispering against the concrete floor. The man was so focused on his work that he didn't hear them coming until Mandy planted her foot and shoved him hard from behind.
He stumbled, his tool clattering to the floor as he hit a shelf, knocking over a stack of framed photographs. He spun, eyes wide, but Jess was already on him—her forearm pressed across his throat, her knee driving into his stomach. The girl moved with surgical efficiency, disarming him of the knife he'd pulled from somewhere even as he tried to raise it.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—" the man gasped, his hands flying up. "I'm not armed, I'm not—"
"Bullshit," Jess said flatly, holding up the knife with her free hand. "This says otherwise. Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man was sweating, his face pale under the flickering neon light. He had the look of a man who had never expected to get caught—who had never actually been caught before and had no idea how to handle it. His eyes darted between Mandy and Jess, search- ing for an exit, finding none.
"I'm—I'm just a courier," he said too fast. "I was hired to retrieve something. That's all. I wasn't going to hurt anybody."
Mandy leaned in close, her voice cool and pleasant in a way that made the man flinch. "A courier. Right. Casing a gallery during an exhibition, breaking into the storage room with a lockpick and a knife. That's standard courier procedure?"
"I'm telling you, I wasn't here for the people. Just the merchandise."
"Mmm." Mandy's smile didn't reach her eyes. She pulled out her phone, nonchalant. "So, funny story. I know this guy, Sven. He sells security systems to museums. Nasty gadgets—little things that can track a cell signal through a Faraday cage, tell you exactly who's been in a space and when." Her thumb hovered over the screen. "Want me to call him?"
The man's eyes went wide. "Okay, okay. Look, I don't know the client's name. I don't. But I was hooked up through a middleman. Got a message two weeks ago with a list of what they wanted."
"We're listening," Jess said, pressing just a little harder on his throat.
"Specifically—" he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing against Jess's forearm. "—a photograph. One specific photograph. The client said it had information about the location of a magical artifact. Something called—" he hesitated, as if the words tasted strange in his mouth. "—the Heart of Alucinor."
Mandy exchanged a glance with Jess. The name meant nothing to her. But the way the man said it, with the reverence of a believer repeating scripture, made her skin prickle.
"When were you supposed to take it?" Jess demanded.
"Tonight. The exhibition just went up—first time it's been publicly displayed. But—" he shook his head, let out a bitter laugh. "It's too late. Someone already got to it. I checked the catalog when I got in. The photo that matches the client's description? It's already marked as sold."
"Sold?" Mandy's brain raced. "Sold to who?"
"I don't know. All I know is one of the pieces in that exhibit—the big one, the ocean series—was pulled from the auction list about an hour ago. Somebody with deep pockets and faster feet than mine beat me to it."
Jess pressed harder. "You're lying."
"I'm not! I swear on my mother's life." His voice cracked. "I'm just a middleman, okay? I take photos, I get paid, I leave. No questions. I was hoping to grab the one piece that was still there, cover my tracks, and be out by midnight. But someone beat me to it."
Mandy studied his face, looking for the tell that would reveal a lie. His pupils were blown wide, his breathing shallow, his skin slicked with sweat. Every sign pointed to genuine fear.
She stepped back, hooking her thumb toward the door. "Get out. Don't come back."
The man scrambled to his feet, clutching his ribs where Jess's knee had connected. For a moment he looked like he was going to say something else—some warning, some plea—but then he thought better of it. He was through the door and gone before the velvet curtain had finished billowing back into place.
"Well," Jess said, straightening her jacket. "That was interesting."
"Interesting is one word for it." Mandy looked around the storage room, her gaze lingering on the boxes labeled with Beth's neat handwriting. "Someone's got her eyes on my sister's work. And they've got money."
"Think he was telling the truth about the photo?"
"The part about it being sold? Probably. The rest—" Mandy shrugged. "Hard to say. But something about this doesn't sit right. Alban was one thing. Now we've got unknown clients after magical artifacts, and they're targeting Beth's photographs to get them."
They stepped back into the gallery, the bright lights momentarily blinding after the dim hallway. Mandy blinked, letting her eyes adjust, and found herself scanning the room for Beth. Her sister was still across the space, talking to a cluster of admirers, Marty at her side looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but soldiering through with a smile.
Ben was nearby, keeping close without being obvious. He caught Mandy's eye and raised an eyebrow in question. She gave a small nod, letting him know everything was fine. Or as fine as it could be.
And then she saw her.
A woman was standing before one of Beth's ocean photographs—the largest piece in the exhibition, dominating the far wall. She was tall and slender, with hair black as polished obsidian that fell in a smooth wave down her back. Her dress was the color of deep water, cut elegantly but modestly, and it moved around her like it was liquid rather than fabric.
She was beautiful. That was the first thing Mandy noticed. The kind of beautiful that made you look twice and then a third time because you couldn't quite believe what you were seeing. Her features were sharp, almost too sharp, her skin pale as moonlight. Her eyes were dark, dark enough to look like holes in her face at a distance, but when she turned to face Mandy and Jess, they glittered with something that was almost—familiar.
The woman smiled. It was a slow, knowing smile, the kind of smile that told you she had secrets you couldn't possibly guess and had no intention of sharing.
Her gaze locked onto Mandy, and then Jess, and Mandy felt something cold run down her spine. There was recognition in that look. Unsettling familiarity.
She knew them. Or she thought she did.
"Jess," Mandy murmured, not taking her eyes off the woman. "Do you know her?"
"No," Jess said, and her voice was tight. "But she's looking at us like she does."
The woman didn't approach. For a long moment, the three of them stood frozen in a triangle, the gallery's noise fading to a distant hum. The woman's smile didn't waver. Then, with a grace that was almost serpentine, she turned away, blending into the crowd as if she'd never been there at all.
Mandy exhaled. "Who the hell was that?"
"No idea." Jess's hand was still on her purse. "But I didn't like the way she looked at us."
"Join the club." Mandy ran a hand through her hair. "Okay. We're going to figure this out. But not tonight."
"Tonight?"
"This is Beth's night." The words came out stronger than she felt. "She worked hard for this. Fiends and finaglers from the unseen world can't be allowed to wreck it."
Jess was silent for a moment. Then she nodded, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "You're right. But we should stay sharp."
"We're always sharp." Mandy's grin was crooked. "It's a family trait."
They walked back toward Ben and Beth, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. Ben looked up as they approached, his eyes searching Mandy's face for answers. She gave a slight shake of her head—later.
"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" Beth was saying, gesturing to the photograph in front of them. It was a picture of Marty, caught in profile as the sun set behind him, his red hair aflame with golden light. "I call it Setting Son. The title's a pun."
"A pun," Marty repeated, sounding uncertain whether to be flattered or concerned.
"It's a good name," Jess said. She glanced at Beth, who was smiling, open and radiant, her eyes bright with the success of the evening. In the low lighting, with her hair loose around her face and her body moving with easy confidence, she looked almost ethereal. Jess lingered a moment. "A really good name."
Ben leaned into Jess, his voice dropping low enough that only she could hear. "So I should mention—Mandy's shared me before. With friends. With both of her sisters." He paused. "Just so you know what you're getting into."
Jess's eyes widened, then her lips curled into a slow grin. She looked at Mandy, who was watching the exchange with an expression of knowing amusement, then back at Beth, who was still talking animatedly about her process—the hours of waiting for the perfect light, the patience required to capture a single moment of truth.
"You're telling me," Jess said, keeping her voice low, "that I've signed on for an open door policy?"
"You signed on for more than that." Ben's smile was faint. "You've seen the family. This is how they operate."
"Good." Jess's smile deepened. "I like options."
Beth, entirely unaware of the conversation happening beside her, turned to Mandy. "What do you think? The curators wanted to make it the centerpiece of the exhibit. I told them it wasn't as strong as some of the others, but they insisted."
"It's perfect, Beth." Mandy reached out, squeezing her sister's hand. "You're perfect. This whole night is perfect."
"I know." Beth's grin was unrepentant. "I'm just soaking it in while I can."
Later, when the gallery was finally empty and the last patron had drifted out into the warm Miami night, Mandy found herself standing alone for a moment in the center of the room. The lights had been dimmed, the photographs hanging in quiet contemplation. She could feel the weight of the evening pressing against her—the joy of Beth's achievement, the unease of the encounter in the storage room, the unknown woman with the dark hair and familiar smile.
Jess came up beside her, silent as a cat, preserving her presence for a moment before speaking.
"You ready to call it a night?"
Mandy nodded slowly. "Almost. Just… want to be here for a minute. Make sure this is real."
"It's real." Jess's voice was soft, her fingers brushing against Mandy's. "Beth's got her moment. And we've got each other."
Somewhere behind them, they heard Ben's laugh rumble through the still air as Marty tried to explain his confusion about champagne. Mandy smiled.
"Then I'm ready."
They walked out together, Jess and Ben flanking her like a choice already made. The warm air wrapped around them, salt-tinged and heavy, and the city hummed its constant electric pulse in the distance. But Mandy kept the image of the raven-haired woman fixed in her mind. She didn't know who she was, or what she wanted.
But whoever she was, she was watching.
And Mandy intended to be ready for her, no matter what was coming next.
The warm Miami air wrapped around them as they stepped out of the gallery, the city's hum a low counterpoint to the laughter spilling from the doors behind them. Mike appeared, his face flushed with pride and something like wonder, his hand already reaching for Casey's. "I'm taking everyone out. Celebratory dinner on me—the whole family, the whole crew, everyone."
Casey's eyebrows shot up. "Mike, that's—"
"Don't argue. This is a big night. Beth's a star, Mandy's found her people, and I've got a daughter who can capture the soul of the ocean in a frame. Let me spend some money on that."
Judy stepped forward, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "I know a place. Trust me, you'll love it. And I'll handle the logistics."
Within minutes, a caravan of cars was winding through Miami's neon-lit streets. Judy's sleek sedan led the way, followed by a mismatched convoy of rentals and borrowed vehicles, all packed with laughter and the kind of chaotic energy only a family like this could generate. The restaurant was tucked away in a quiet corner of the arts district—low lighting, exposed brick, the smell of garlic and herbs drifting through the open door.
The hostess led them to a long table in the back, a sprawling oak affair that could have seated thirty. Everyone settled in with the practiced ease of people who had spent years sharing meals together. Menus appeared, wine lists were consulted, and the clink of glasses began to fill the air.
Mike picked up his menu. His eyes scanned the page. His face went pale.
Casey, watching him, reached for her own menu. Her expression shifted from curiosity to horror in the span of a heartbeat. "Mike," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "These prices. The appetizers alone are—"
"I know," he breathed back. "I know."
Judy leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial murmur. "Don't worry. Stacy and I will split the bill tonight. Consider it a gift for the occasion."
Mike opened his mouth to protest, but Casey's hand found his under the table, squeezing tight. He looked at his wife, saw the relief mirrored in her eyes, and let out a slow breath. "Thank you," he said, his voice rough with gratitude. "I don't know what we would have—"
"Shh." Judy waved a hand. "Enjoy yourself. That's an order."
The drinks arrived—a round of champagne, a bottle of something deep red for the table, a whiskey for Shiv that she accepted with a nod of approval. Mike stood, raising his glass, his voice carrying across the table. "I want to toast my daughter. Beth, you've poured your heart into this work, and it shows. Tonight, you've made us all so proud. To Beth."
"To Beth," the table echoed, glasses raised, smiles wide.
Beth flushed, ducking her head, but her grin was radiant. She rose, glass in hand, and turned to Mandy. "I want to toast my sister, actually. Mandy, you've been my rock through all of this—helping me set up, calming me down when I thought I'd lose my mind over lighting, making sure I didn't fall apart when everything went wrong. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"To Mandy," the table echoed.
Mandy's cheeks burned, but she lifted her glass anyway, her eyes finding Ben and Jess across the table. "Well, then I have to toast Jess." She raised her glass higher. "Jess, you came into our chaos and didn't run screaming. You've been steady, smart, and—" she paused, her smile turning sly, "—utterly unflappable. Welcome to the family. You're stuck with us now."
Jess's grin widened, her dark eyes glinting. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Casey rose then, her glass held high, her voice thick with emotion. "I want to toast all of my children—Beth, Mandy, Rick, Calista, and anyone else who's wandered into our orbit and decided to stay." Her gaze swept the table, touching each face. "You're all living such incredible lives. I couldn't be prouder."
"To the Williamson kids," the table said.
Jan stood, raising her glass with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I want to toast good times without pants." She paused, letting the words hang. "I mean—you all know what I mean."
"Jan Siobhan," Shiv said, her tone gently chastising. "We are in mixed company."
"Mixed company is the best kind, Mam." Jan's grin was unrepentant. "To good times, with or without pants."
The table dissolved into laughter, glasses clinking in chaotic rhythm. Hank raised his own glass, his voice booming. "And to the Bulls' playoff chances, because someone has to be the voice of reason in this group."
A collective groan rippled through the table, broken only by Maryam's enthusiastic cheer. "Yes! Finally, someone who speaks the truth!"
Fatima rolled her eyes. "Hank, the Bulls haven't made the playoffs in three years."
"And yet, hope springs eternal!" He clinked his glass against his daughter's, both of them grinning like conspirators.
The conversation flowed, the food arrived in waves—platters of seafood, pastas that smelled like heaven, grilled meats that made Mike's eyes water with longing. For a while, Mandy let herself be swept up in the warmth of it all, the laughter, the clinking glasses, the occasional burst of argument over who got the last piece of bread.
And then she noticed the table thinning.
Her parents' chairs were empty. Rick and Stacy's too. Even Beth and Marty had disappeared. Mandy slid down the bench to where Calista sat, serene and composed, dabbing at her lips with a linen napkin.
"Where is everyone?" Mandy asked, keeping her voice low.
Calista raised an eyebrow. "Mom and Dad excused themselves to go to the restroom. They are probably fucking."
"Probably," Mandy agreed.
"Rick and Stacy slipped off to feed the parking meter." Calista's smile was knowing. "There are no parking meters outside this restaurant."
"So they're fucking too."
"Almost certainly." Calista took a sip of her wine. "Beth and Marty said they had to make a quick call to the museum curator. Very important business."
"Which means they're fucking."
"Obviously." Calista's voice was dry. "And your pair—" her silver eyes flicked to Mandy, then to the empty seats where Ben and Jess had been sitting, "—slipped out without leaving an excuse at all. So they're definitely fucking."
Mandy felt her cheeks heat, but she didn't deny it. "The Williamsons do love a good—"
"Fucking," Calista finished. "We do."
Jan appeared beside them, Godfrey trotting at her heels. "Tell me I'm not the only one noticing that this table has become a bucket of horny ghosts."
"You're not the only one," Calista said. "Mandy was just confirming that all our missing relatives are currently getting laid."
Jan let out a bark of laughter. "The Williamsons love a good fucking."
"As a Williamson, I can confirm." Calista's smile was serene. "We're a passionate people."
Hank leaned over, his voice carrying across the table. "Hey, Mike—" But Mike wasn't there. "How come Casey was only pregnant three times, when those two—" he gestured vaguely at the empty seats, "—can't keep your hands to yourselves?"
Fatima shot him a look that could have melted steel. "Hank."
"What? I'm just asking a question."
"You're being an idiot."
"That's also true." He grinned, unrepentant. "But I'm still curious."
Mandy slid back into her seat as Ben and Jess returned, both looking slightly flush—or trying to look like they hadn't just been fucking in the alley. Ben's collar was crooked. Jess's hair had a new wave to it. Neither of them met Mandy's eyes for long, and that was all the confirmation she needed.
"Everything okay?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
"Peachy," Ben said.
"Delicious," Jess added, and Mandy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
Judy's voice cut through the murmur. "Oh, by the way, Beth—I bought one of your ocean photos. The big one. The waves hitting the rocks at sunrise. It's absolutely stunning."
Mandy's blood went cold. She exchanged a quick glance with Jess, then Ben. The photograph the man in the storage room had been looking for. The one with the information about the Heart of Alucinor. The one that had already been marked as sold.
"That's—that's great, Aunt Judy," Beth said, beaming as she and Marty slid back into their seats. "I'm so glad you liked it."
"Loved it," Judy corrected. "It's going in my living room, right over the fireplace."
Mandy opened her mouth to say something, she wasn't sure what, but before she could form the words, a flash of movement caught her eye. The raven-haired woman was standing near the bar, a glass of something dark in her hand, her eyes fixed on Mandy with that unsettling smile.
Mandy froze. The woman inclined her head, a small, almost imperceptible nod, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Rick and Stacy returned from their mission to the nonexistent parking meter, Stacy's hair suspiciously tousled. "Mandy?" Rick's voice broke through his sister's trance. "You alright?"
She blinked, forcing herself to focus. "Yeah. Yeah, I just—" She shook her head. "I saw someone."
"Who?"
"I don't know. That's the problem." She looked at him, the question already forming in her mind. "She seemed familiar. Like I should know her, but I don't. She's a stranger, and yet—" She trailed off, unsure how to explain the feeling.
"Mysterious? But not necessarily dangerous?"
"Exactly." Mandy met her brother's eyes. "She didn't feel threatening. But she's watching. That much I know."
Rick studied her for a long moment. "You're going to do something about it, aren't you? You always do."
"Not tonight." Mandy's voice was firm. "Tonight is Beth's night. She deserves to enjoy it without me chasing down every mysterious woman who looks at me funny."
"You're being suspiciously calm about this."
"I'm being suspiciously focused on what's important." She reached out, squeezing his hand. "There'll be time for mysteries later. Right now, I just want to celebrate my sister."
Rick smiled, some of the concern fading from his eyes. "You're a good sister."
"I know. That's why Mom and Dad made me the favorite."
"Please, you're clearly the disappointment. They just haven't realized it yet."
She punched his shoulder lightly, and the laughter returned, rippling through the table. Mike and Casey slipped back into their seats, looking rumpled but satisfied. Beth and Marty sat, both looking very pleased with themselves and doing a terrible job of hiding anything.
Jan caught Mandy's eye from across the table, raising her glass in a silent toast. Mandy raised hers in return, the grin on her face feeling more genuine than anything she'd felt all night.
"Alright, alright," Mike said, raising his voice. "I have an announcement. Casey and I are heading back to Chicago in the morning."
A chorus of groans and protests rose from the table. Mandy felt a pang in her chest, but she forced a smile. "You just got here."
"We know, Bug." Casey's voice was warm, gentle, and heavy with love. "But home is calling. And someone has to make sure the garden survives the summer heat."
"Well," Fatima said, setting down her glass, "Hank and I will be leaving as well. The meditation center can only run itself for so long before the initiates start forming cults around the incense burner."
"Again," Hank added.
"Again," Fatima agreed.
Jan shrugged, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "I think I'll stay a while. Spend some time with my mother." She placed a hand over her heart. "I've missed her wise, gentle counsel."
Shiv snorted. "You've missed my cooking, is what you mean."
"That too, Mam. That too."
Godfrey, who had been sprawled across Jan's feet, let out a soft bark as if seconding the notion. Jan translated for him. "Godfrey says he's been missing your scones."
"Godfrey is welcome to stay as long as he likes." Shiv reached down, scratching the little dog behind his ears. "He's the only O'Connor with any sense."
"Aunt Judy?" Calista looked up from her dessert, catching the older woman's eye. "When are you coming back to the city?"
"I'm not sure yet." Judy's smile was enigmatic. "I might stay a while longer. Miami has grown on me. The ocean, the sun, the art galleries." Her eyes flicked to Beth. "The company."
"Well," Calista said, "someone needs to stay in Chicago and keep an eye on Mom and Dad. Making sure they wear pants when they answer the door."
Casey laughed, a genuine, full-bodied sound. "In my defense, it was one time—"
"Four times," Calista corrected.
"Three and a half."
"Four," Mandy chimed in. "I counted."
"I raised a family of little monsters," Casey said, shaking her head, but her smile was soft. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
The laughter rose, a wave of warmth that carried through the rest of the evening. Mandy leaned into Ben's side, feeling his arm wrap around her waist, safe and solid. Jess's hand found hers under the table, warm and sure. She thought about the mysterious woman, about the photograph Judy had bought, about the Heart of Alucinor and whatever dark purpose it served.
But those were tomorrow's problems. Tonight, she had her sisters, her parents, her brother, her lovers, and a table full of people who would burn the world for each other and break the rules to rebuild it better.
The night went on. The wine flowed. The stories grew more ridiculous. And Mandy, for the first time in what felt like forever, let herself simply breathe.
TO BE CONTINUED IN "THE HEART OF ALUCINOR"