I tensed. “Are those books–”

Vas shook his head. “They’re copycats,” he whispered. “There are nine of the real grimoires, and Samael–” he cut himself off and I stared at him.

“How many does he have, Vas?”

He didn’t say a word. I scowled at him, opening my mouth, but then he went so tense I jolted, glancing behind me at the stage.

“What is it?”

“That bracelet belonged to Samael’s mother.”

I gaped at him. “How do you know that?”

“I remember my uncle looking for it before we left. Samael had been missing for centuries at that point, and everyone assumed he was dead. But Ag knew Samael’s mother and remembered how she’d adored that bracelet. He’d hoped to find it one day.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed me a picture of what looked like an ancient sketch. I studied both the sketch and the bracelet. They sure looked the same.

“How do you think they got their hands on it?”

He shrugged. “Enterprising humans can get their hands on almost anything. Likely, one of the underking’s men looted Samael’s mother’s jewelry when they took power and then they sold the pieces off when it was safe to do so.” He glanced at me. “I don’t like the look on your face right now.”

I ignored him, my gaze glued to the bracelet.

Eight-year-old Samael’s pain was branded in my memory. His little heart had broken as he stared at his mother’s body. I would leave this auction with that bracelet.

I could feel Vas’s gaze on me. I gave him a wide smile and he shook his head, turning back to the auction. People had taken their seats and were giving each other the side-eye, scoping out who was here.

“Clint’s just arrived,” a couple of late-comers were striding in, moving so quickly that Vas had to yank me out of their path before one of them rammed into me.

One of the women laughed. “You know it’s going to be a good night then. He’s almost as magical as the artifacts he peddles, he’s so skilled at getting his hands on them.”

Was that so? We’d be having a little talk then, wouldn’t we?

The auctioneer arrived. The room went silent and the last of the people gathered took their seats. I scanned the room. There must’ve been fifty people waiting to bid, or simply curious enough to see what was on offer.

A hushed silence fell over the crowd as the auction got started.

The paintings sold for six million dollars. The two men who’d been hauling them in looked both shocked and triumphant. But the guy with the beard looked consideringly at his partner and I suppressed a snort. I had a feeling he wasn’t planning to split the money.