Chapter Three: Unfortunate Reunion

Although this was not his plan for the third anniversary after his divorce, Liam needs his ex-wife's help if he is to continue down this path of mysticism to find the Fox Thief.

Nearly an hour after questioning the vampire, Liam only found out that the curator was present at the time of the thievery, and that the thief was a woman.

With the six cards deep in his coat pocket, Liam had to find answers, and the only way to do that was to enter the one place he dreaded, but the only place he could solve this case.

The National Library of France.

It was not the shelf-covered books, or large quiet rooms that bothered him, in fact he loved to read and study the ancient tomes; the library itself was his temporary sanctuary after he retired.

No, it wasn’t the volumes.

It was the one person who was the head of the building itself. The one person he had not seen for three years.

He entered the library, something he had not done since he heard of who became the next head; the waft of ancient tomes and leather couches filled his nostrils.

The horrors of having to face his ex-wife again was daunting, to say the least... He thought privately to himself as he gazed around the large circular dome that was filled with manuscripts and volumes from top to bottom.

 

********

 

“Oh, he’s cute.” Gabrielle, a staff member of the library said to her co-worker and head of the library.

Mercy La Volpe, a tall woman with long deep auburn locks and dark blue eyes looked up from the book she was immersed in, Servitors Serving the Ethereal and Respected Gods.

“Oh no...” she hastily pulled down her sleeve to hide something on her left arm and acted as if she suddenly had something important to do; away from the newcomer.

“What is it?” Gabrielle asked, still gazing upon the handsome man with something more than admiration.

Mercy cringed slightly, “It’s him…”

“Him?” Gabrielle scooted closer to her manager with a devious grin. “Is he your husband? Are you married?”

With a great sigh, Mercy stared straight into her friend’s gaze and stated, “Nous avons divorcé. And we haven’t seen or spoken to each other in three years.”

“How could you give up a hunk like that, Mercy?” Gabrielle inquired; deeply interested in the detective, now that she knew he was not tied to someone else.

“You mean how I could stay with him. He’s too intelligent for his own good, you remember that old Sherlock Holmes series that was on the international channel?”

“Who could forget?” the younger woman giggled cheerfully; Gabrielle expressed many times how much she adored the handsome actor who played the cool, clever Sherlock Holmes.

“He’s every bit like Sherlock; witty, charming, conceded, overwrought and-”

“Someone I know of? Sounds familiar.” Liam approached their circular desk with a broad roguish grin, one that Mercy always admired.

Gabrielle laughed a little too hard.

“Liam,” Mercy nodded curtly and turned away to hide her elated urge to smile. She felt her betraying heart thump loudly against her chest.

Gabrielle finally gathered herself and leaned forward on the desk, towards the detective. She shrewdly revealed her slightly busty chest. “How may I help you, sir?”

 

Mercy liked the young woman. Despite her salacious nature, Gabrielle was bright and eager to learn anything and everything that passed under her nose.

However as Liam had never met the young woman, he would not know. Though Mercy thought, he had a lot of self-control not to look at the more than welcome cleavage that was practically in his face.

“Actually I do need help but,” he looked at the blue eyes, that observed him distrustfully. The fierce zeal within her gaze made him remember all those times when they were together, “I need your help, Mercy.”

Gabrielle looked a little crestfallen, but retreated all the same. Mercy knew all too well that her employee would not give up so easily.

“How can I help you, detective?” Mercy placed a bookmark on the page she was reading and set her book down.

“I am retired, Mercy.” He too leaned forward.

“And yet, here you are, working for the scum of the force, Detective.” Mercy straightened, she did not like being so close to him.

 

Deciding not to get into a fight, as their conversation usually ended up, Liam pulled the six cards out of his pocket and passed them to her. His fingers just barely brushed hers and the two still felt a familiar jolt of excitement. It was a strange feeling, something they had forgotten.

“I need to know where these passages came from.” He said quickly, as he tried to pass off the shock they felt.

Mercy held up and studied each card without expressing anything more than interest. “Are these the cards left behind from the paintings?”

“You know about those?”

She looked at him with a haughty raised eyebrow, “I live in the city, and…” She held up the daily newspaper that arrived less than an hour ago:

 

ANOTHER THEFT AT THE LOVRE LEAVES POLICE CONFOUNDED

In an astonishing discovery, the painting called Snow has been stolen by the notorious thief La Voleur de Renard. Many have claimed this painting by Nicholas Travers as mystical, beautiful, and dangerous.

“Perhaps that is why the thief wants it,” A Parisian local, who wished not to be named, explains. “That painting stole my little boy three years ago.”

The mother further explains to your dear reporter, that the painting mystifies all those who glance long enough; it will in turn “steal” the soul from the person who looks upon it.

While many believe the mother, others just assume that her son, Peter, 8, was kidnapped in front of the painting.

Another account of this mysterious disappearance is a husband, Jacques, who lost his wife Maria. And one more, none other than the curator of the Louvre, Cyril De Lille’s wife, Claire.

(If anyone has information on the missing people, please call the hotline-

 

 

The rest of the article was cut off at the fold.

“Well, they’ve started early.” Liam scoffed looked away.

“Early nothing,” Mercy snapped as she slammed the newspaper down onto the desk, people around the room looked in her direction before turning away again, “Every time a painting is stolen, people ramble in this sanctuary of silence and treat it like a college dormitory.”

“I thought you liked your college dormitory.” Liam said shrewdly.

“Ha!” Mercy released a short huff, “Just because you were next to Rosella’s and my room does not mean I enjoyed one moment.” She referred to their younger days and college dorm mate.

“Then what about the library?” Liam quizzed, “Don’t you like it when people take interest in this paper source sanctuary?”

“I do, but not when it is treated like a party room with a rowdy, noisy crowd. You should have seen what it was like when Dreamer was stolen,” Mercy’s hand went over her chest, as if heartbroken and nearly fainting “Teenagers rambled into my sanctuary, tried to get to books on dream interpretations first and nearly tore the pages off the tomes!”

 

 She abruptly stopped and composed herself. “After that third fiasco, I had all translations on magic and mysticism moved to a more private room.” She gazed at him, then at the cards, “I suspect you wish to see them?”

“Yes.” Liam smiled; he only just remembered how passionate she was about her interests, it was one of the reasons he fell in love with her.

“Well, follow me; at least I can trust you enough that you won’t destroy my books.”