For a moment, everything was silent, except for the soft hum of the camera feed and the faint, tinny flicker of the black-and-white monitor in front of me. On the screen, Owen stared at Clementine a moment, then threw back his head and laughed.

“You think I can crack that vault?” He let out another series of chuckles. “Lady, you are out of your mind.”

Instead of being insulted, her smile widened. “Not at all.”

Owen realized that she was serious, and his laughter abruptly cut off, the last notes dying on his lips. He looked at the vault door again, really studying it.

“What’s in there that you want so badly?”

“Funny you should ask. You see, art isn’t the only thing that Mab Monroe left behind,” Clementine said. “In addition to all those baubles on display in the rotunda, the Fire elemental also had a vast personal fortune. But the most interesting thing is that she didn’t keep it stashed away in some bank or even just lying around as cash. No, it seems that Ms. Monroe preferred a more tangible, old-fashioned currency: gold.”

Owen frowned, his black eyebrows drawing together in thought. “You’re telling me that Mab Monroe kept her personal fortune all in gold, and all of it . . . here?”

“Almost like a dragon out of some fairy tale, if you think about it,” Clementine said. “Except, of course, that Mab was much more dangerous than any old dragon out of any old story. But now that she’s gone, well, we don’t have to worry about someone breathing elemental Fire on us, now, do we?”

She slapped a hand to her side and guffawed. It was good that she amused herself, because I didn’t find one thing about this funny, and neither did Owen, judging from his grim, worried expression.

When she was done congratulating herself on being so clever, Clementine started pacing again. “But to answer your questions, yes. I have it on good authority that a big chunk of Mab’s gold is stashed right here in this very vault. Apparently, Mab had a thing about not trusting banks, and she thought it would be less obvious storing her gold here rather than at one of the downtown banks. Plus, I believe the museum director was into her for a substantial gambling debt, so she took it out in trade for this.”

Owen shook his head. “Well, that’s a nice story, but it still doesn’t explain how you think I can help you get into the vault.”

“I’ve done my research, Mr. Grayson. I’ve learned quite a bit about silverstone these last few months. How tough it is, how durable, and how you need elemental magic to get around or even through it. And I think that you’re just the man for the job.”

“Why?” Owen shot back at her. “Just because I have an elemental talent for metal?”