Treasure Trail (mxm)

1. the beginning

Sotheby's main office, London

"Mr. Andrews, we are impressed with your dedication, and I know I speak for everyone who has had the pleasure of working with you during your internship." Mr Thompson sounded sincere enough, but I knew what was coming. His posture was stiffer than usual where he sat behind his mahogany desk dated to the 17th century, French in origin. It was easy to be envious of the man with beauty just beneath his fingertips. It almost seemed to pulse with history.

"We are going to write you a letter of recommendation, and we wish you the best of futures. I'm certain our paths will cross again soon enough."

"Thank you." The hours had been grueling, but I'd loved every second of it. No matter the late nights, it was impossible to be anything but thankful. I'd entertained one or two dreams about getting an actual position here, but it had been a flight of fancy. No one got a position at Sotheby's without years of experience, regardless of their passion. That they'd taken me in at a modest age of 24 for an internship was uncommon enough.

I allowed myself one last glance at the Ming Dynasty vase perched on a pedestal. Over three feet tall, it was a massive piece, delicately painted for an emperor. I wondered where they'd kept it, how many hands had touched it over the centuries. Mr. Thompson treasured items within his area of expertise, like everyone else here, meaning there were quite a few items from the Orient dispersed around the office.

Clearing his throat, he leaned closer to me across the desk, seeming less formal. "Raven, you've done excellent work here. We're truly sad to see you go. This comes from the top, however. There's nothing we can do until you have a bit more experience to show off on your resumé."

"I understand."

Thompson released a sad sort of sigh. "Let me show you out. We'll take a detour via the storage rooms if you want to say goodbye." To anyone else, that would have sounded like complete rubbish. In contrast, my chest made a little flutter of excitement underneath the pain. He knew me well.

The storage rooms underground were heavily bolted, secured with high-tech alarms of various sorts, and enough cameras to make anyone nervous. It resembled a prison, hiding what was never meant to be hidden. Jackson stood on his post by the outer door, ready to drop down an additional iron gate if anyone unauthorized chanced a visit. The gross value of the items inside was a secret to most of the staff, although we would sometimes guess. It made sense to keep it under lock and key, but I still resented the fact.

"We're going in, Jackson," Thompson said.

The security guard frowned. Usually, he knew about he requests to enter the vaults and wouldn't let people inside at random, even if they worked at the auction house.

"It's Raven's last day."

I thought that would have been a futile plea, but to my surprise, Jackson nodded. "I heard you'd be leaving soon. So, it's today then?"

I'd never had a relationship with Jackson, so it all seemed a bit odd. "Yes, off to greener pastures."

Jackson snorted. "You know that's not something people your age really say, right?" He had a fond glint in his eyes, and I couldn't for the world understand why. Unless he was making fun of me. People did that quite often after all.

Before I had to come up with a response, Jackson punched in a code. Thompson followed with his own, and the bolts unlocked one by one. Inside, we had to step through an additional airlock that kept perfect temperature and humidity inside to preserve the treasures. A few items were stored in specific conditions, but those were sealed away in other parts of the storage area.