“My guy is on his way. Before he gets here, maybe we need to take a good look at this.” He glanced around and scooted his chair closer to hide what he laid on the table between them. “Too close?” he murmured near her ear. “I won’t touch you again, I promise.”

It sounded as though he meant it. Good. A relief. And at the same time muddily disappointing. Flustered, she took a sip of her tea, nearly scalding her lips—why in the world was it so damned hot?—and then promptly attempted to quiet her bouncing emotions.

“Are you counting again?” he whispered.

“I’m fine.” She exhaled and slid a quick glance his way. “Really.”

He lifted both brows but didn’t push her. Whatever his faults, he had a knack for knowing when to stand down. Without another word, he unwrapped the handkerchief between their plates. Hadley stared down at it, grateful for the distraction.

The gold crossbar was startlingly bright in the gray light filtering in through the window. A conservative design bordered the front, and a small mechanism protruded from the bottom, presumably used to attach the bar to the base. Odd symbols were embossed into the back.

“Looks like a match to me,” she said.

“Agreed.” He rewrapped the crossbar.

But something else bothered her. “If the griffin was a magical construct, where was the spell?”

“The spell that released it, or brought it to life, you mean?”

“Yes. The crossbar wasn’t housed inside any sort of wrapping when I found it, so the logical assumption would be that there was some sort of spell written on the inside of the urn.”

“None of the canopic paintings showed additional symbols inside the jars, but maybe there was a spell scribbled on a piece of paper that was stashed with the crossbar. Could’ve fallen onto the lawn and we just didn’t spot it.”

“True, but regardless, why didn’t my mother warn me about this?”

“She did mention the crossbars were dangerous,” Lowe argued. “It wasn’t attacking us—it wanted the crossbar.”

“Protecting it. A final magical safety net, perhaps.”

He propped his forearms against the edge of the table and leaned forward. “Seems odd that a griffin would guard the jackal-headed jar. Why not the falcon-headed one, Qebehsenuef?”

“I agree. If my mother was so meticulous about all the other details, why was she sloppy about that?”

“Especially when she could’ve buried the crossbars in a field and been done with it.”

“Precisely. Details were important to her. The game was important. The magic doesn’t seem to fit.”

“And now we don’t know what to expect if we find another one of the pieces. Another magical guardian? Maybe I need to listen to Winter and start carrying a gun.”

Whatever made him feel better. At least she knew the Mori specters could take down the griffin. “I’m more concerned about where to look for another piece.”

“I contacted someone this morning about death records. He’s going to see what he can pull together. Hopefully he’ll have it for me in a couple of days.”

Oh.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it,” he argued. “We talked about this last night.”

“But when were you going to tell me? And while we’re on the subject, who is this man we’re meeting? How do I know you aren’t handing the crossbar off to someone who’ll melt it down and sell it for gold?”

Lowe swigged his coffee. “Because the amulet pieces can’t be destroyed, for one.” He set his cup down and gave her a look weighted with a calm intensity. “And sometimes you just have to let go and trust people.”

“Easier to do when the person you’re trusting is principled.”

“I’ve got more principles than you’d imagine.” He leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “Besides, you think keeping dark secrets isn’t the same as lying? Maybe we’ve got more in common than you want to admit.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Too long. The heat she’d felt minutes before washed over her again.

“I want to be kept informed of your progress with the death records,” she said, pulling the plate of pie closer. “Perhaps we should exchange telephone numbers.”

And after they’d done so, he’d agreed—promised—to contact her the minute he got the list. And with that out of the way, they finished their sweet meal in silence until Lowe waved to someone through the window.

The front door opened and a halo of dark curls bounded into the automat. A toddler. Very pretty, with a plump face grinning above a coat buttoned to her chin. She flew into Lowe’s arms, and he lifted her into his lap, smiling just as big.

“Stella,” he said. “My favorite girl. All healed up from your fall?”

The girl didn’t respond, but when he bit the tip of her nose, she opened her mouth and grinned some more.

Hadley glanced up at the man approaching the table. He had the same dark hair as the girl and was dressed in a plain suit and coat. A pleasant face. Kind.

“Got here quick,” Lowe said to the man.

“Streetcar was almost empty, and we were already on our way out to the Japanese Tea Garden.”

“To see the koi fish?” Lowe asked the girl, waving his hand like a fish tail swimming through water.

She nodded.

“If the weather holds, that is,” the man said. “Might rain.”