Forty minutes later, Ivy circled back through the sewers. She found Janice sitting on a crate, pendant still around her neck, shadows milling confusedly ten feet away like dogs who’d lost a scent.
“I’ll meet you at the rendezvous. Go.”
“Ivy…” Janice pointed.
“Curses are just marketing for ghosts,” Ivy replied, slicing the glass with a diamond-tipped stylus.
Together, they walked out of the museum’s service exit into the rain, the cursed jade swinging between them—harmless for one more night, because some things are stronger than magic. ivy wolfe janice griffith
“What are you doing?”
“Client forgot to mention the curse comes with friends,” Ivy muttered. Forty minutes later, Ivy circled back through the sewers
Trust, for instance. And a very good grandmother.