Ben and Chloe strolled into the Museum of Modern Art at six forty-five the next night with sketchpads under their arms. The museum stayed open until nine that night. They had time. They strolled through the sculpture garden before it got too dark, waiting for crowds to clear. They pulled up chairs near the fountain and waited for the crowds to clear as they pulled out their sketchbooks and started to draw the colorful figures standing silently on the other side of the fountain.

Ben glanced over at Chloe’s page. “Stick figures?”

“I told you I can’t draw.”

“Didn’t you go to art school or something?”

“Yeah. For dance.” Chloe flipped the page. “Not drawing. I like art. I can’t make it.”

“Dance is art.” Ben took his time. He could draw decently—another one of the lessons his uncle had forced on him—but it was an acquired skill, not a natural talent. “And drawing well is practical for me. I can’t always count on having a camera with me in my work. Sometimes cataloguing has to be done by sketch.”

Chloe looked at the grouping he’d done on his page. “You’re better than all right. You have shadows and stuff.” She cocked her head. “You’re pretty good, actually. You never draw for fun?”

“Drawing isn’t fun,” he said. “Like I said, it’s practical.”

“Huh. You’re good at it.”

“Well thank you.” He flipped the page and glanced around the garden. “People are leaving.”

“It’s dinnertime.”

Ben closed his book. “I want a drink. You?”

“Oh definitely. Fifth-floor terrace?”

Ben nodded. “We’ll take the elevator up to six and then walk down.”

“There’s a shop on the sixth floor outside the special-exhibit gallery.”

“Perfect.”

Tucking their sketchbooks back under their arms, Ben and Chloe headed back inside and toward the elevators.

More and more people were drifting out of the museum, but a few were still entering. People in suits. Singles more than groups. Most likely those who waited to visit until after seven o’clock were locals just off work or students like the ones Ben and Chloe were posing as.

Chloe asked in a low voice, “Can our friends take elevators?”

Ben nodded. “They can, but it’s tricky. Older elevators are easier. Gio avoids new ones. He can’t touch anything near the control panel, but he’s more… sparky than Gavin or Tenzin.”

“Why?”

He smiled at her. “How many elements are there?”

“Four. Or five sometimes.”

He pushed the button for the elevator when they reached it. “Which element seems the most sparky?”

Chloe mouthed, Fire? with wide eyes.

Ben nodded.

“He always seemed so calm and rational,” she said. “I mean, after I got over the movie-star looks, I always thought of your uncle as super boring. No offense.”

“None taken,” Ben said, stepping into the elevator and holding the door for Chloe and another couple of student-types. “I think he’d consider that a compliment. He works very hard to live a quiet life.”

“Your aunt, on the other hand, is awesome, and I want to be her when I grow up.”

Ben smiled. “I kinda want to be her when I grow up too.”

They got off on the sixth floor and wandered over to the shop to look at the books, trinkets, and toys that made up the museum merchandise. Ben glanced over his shoulder and watched the comings and goings of the crew, noting the service elevator and the hallway where they disappeared carrying cords and benches.

They had white partitions up to block the entrance and exit of the special-exhibitions hall, but he could hear more workmen in the background and the low voice of someone giving directions.

No art. Not yet. They wouldn’t be carting Dalis, Magrittes, and Kahlos through the hallways. Not during open hours anyway.

Chloe paged through a book. “Anything interesting?”

“No, it’s exactly as expected.”

“Any sign of Tenzin?”

Ben glanced toward the large air-conditioning vent in the corner. “She’ll be around somewhere. Hiding out. By the time we’re ready to move, she’ll have the whole ventilation system and service area mapped out.”

Chloe took a deep breath. “This feels super weird.”

Ben put an arm around her and bent down. “Remember, we’re not stealing anything,” he whispered in her ear. “All we have to do is make sure Samson’s paintings get back to where they belong.”

Chloe nodded and put the book down. They lingered in the small shop long enough that Ben had a fairly good idea who was coming and going and what kind of employee badges they would need. He grabbed Chloe’s hand, and they headed down the stairs and toward the café that overlooked the sculpture garden.

“And… it’s closed,” Chloe said.

“Damn.” He looked around. “Does that mean I’m allowed to bring out the flask I snuck in in my messenger bag?”

She laughed. “You did not.”

“I absolutely did.” He hooked his arm in hers. “But for now why don’t we go be studious and kill some time?”

They sketched and walked around the museum until eight thirty. Their reservation was at eight forty-five. Glancing at the windows as they walked down the stairs, he saw the sun had finally set.

The vampires would be waking, and Ben and Chloe were fair game.

Gavin would be at the museum soon, as would René DuPont, if Ben’s theory was correct. Tonight was the night everyone would be making their move. The exhibit was being taken down, the paintings shipped back to the generous donors of Historic New York, and René would try to intercept them.

Would Emilie be with him?

Ben couldn’t decide whether he wanted to confront her or not. He couldn’t decide if he ever wanted to see Emilie again.

Had it all been a lie? If it wasn’t, did that make it better or worse? He’d become too accustomed to kindness in the years since he’d been with his uncle. He’d let down his guard.

A mistake.

Betrayal was a fact of life. Most relationships were an exchange. You give me this; I give you that. The currency varied but the rules remained the same. Emotions were a tool, and loyalty could be stolen like anything else.

Ben and Chloe walked down to the restaurant in the lobby and through the doors. It was Saturday night, but Gavin had managed to secure a reservation in Ben’s name. They sat, ordered drinks, and stared out the windows while the glittering lights of the sculpture garden glowed brighter as darkness settled on the city.

“What now?” she asked quietly.

“Now we wait for Gavin. He said he’d be here and he’d find us a way back in the museum.”

He glanced at the bar, then back at the menu. “The salmon or the lamb?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how you can eat right now.”

“I can always eat.” He closed the menu. “Slow-cooked lamb for me, and we should start with the tuna tartare. Try the mushrooms and polenta. It’s going to be a long night.”

* * *

Halfway through their appetizer, Chloe saw Ben’s eyes narrow on someone entering the restaurant. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Gavin walking in wearing one of his impeccable suits. He scanned the bar with purpose, his eyes narrowing on an attractive Caucasian woman who was drinking alone. She appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. Sleek brown hair. Stylish suit. She looked smart. Professional. Gavin walked up and took the barstool beside her.

“They match,” Chloe muttered.

Ben said, “What?”

“Nothing.” She turned around. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure they’ve met before though, judging from her reaction.”

When Chloe looked again, Gavin was leaning into the woman, smiling and flirting openly. His hand pressed into the small of her back when he lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles as she laughed.

Chloe wasn’t prepared for the stab of jealousy. It pierced her stomach hard and fast, burning when she saw him lean in and whisper in the woman’s ear. She turned back to the table, stunned by her reaction.

“It’s fake, Chloe.”

“They know each other.”

“His job was to find a way back into the museum after closing,” Ben said. “He found one. She’s a curator. I recognize the ID.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine.

Ben kept glancing over Chloe’s shoulder. “Finish your food. This is going to be faster than I expected given her body language. She’s not interested in dinner.”

Chloe turned to peek. The woman pressed her breasts against Gavin’s side and leaned close to whisper in his ear. His eyebrows went up, and she laughed. The corner of his mouth turned up, and he nodded.

Just then, his eyes lifted and locked with Chloe’s.

The woman at his side continued to whisper in his ear, but Gavin kept his eyes on Chloe’s until she couldn’t take anymore. She turned around, her stomach in knots, her hands twisted in her lap.

“I’ll take care of the bill,” Ben said, pulling out his wallet. “I don’t want us to leave together. Head to the bathroom hallway and wait there. Check your phone until you see them leaving the restaurant, then follow them out. I’ll catch up with you.”

Chloe nodded, her mind cataloguing the steps Ben had told her and not thinking about Gavin’s behavior. Her feelings for Gavin were complicated, but her jealousy wasn’t.

Get over it, Chloe. He’s playing his part.

Or was he? He’d certainly been hands-off with her lately. She might have been staying at his place, but some nights she barely saw him. He was at the pub or meeting with… whomever he met with. What did she really know about Gavin, anyway?

Ben rose and grabbed his messenger bag. “Chloe, you ready?”

Chloe nodded and made her way to the hallway, walking by Gavin and the woman, pointedly not looking at them as she passed. She leaned against the hall and pulled out her phone, pretending to check her email while still keeping an eye on the happy couple at the bar.

Chloe couldn’t look at them, so she watched their shoes.

The woman had pretty feet. Slender, pale, unmarred feet clad in elegant designer heels. They were nothing at all like the bruised and callused feet Chloe had. Dancers were hard on their feet. More than one of her instructors had had foot surgery before fifty.

Chloe walked around Gavin’s house barefoot. Did he mind? Had he noticed her hard, bruised little feet? Did he compare them to other, elegant feet he’d seen?

She shouldn’t care. It pissed her off that she did.

Chloe knew she was nothing like the sophisticated woman at the bar. She was herself. She’d only ever wanted to be herself.

She was Chloe Reardon, who ignored the jabs of all the girls who told her she didn’t have a “ballet body.” She was the one who forced her teachers to take notice. She’d defied her parents and crossed the country to make her dreams come true when no one believed in her. She was the pauper who worked three jobs so she could dance in brilliant shows that paid nothing. She was the woman who hadn’t cried, even faced with her worst nightmare of never dancing again.

She was the woman who’d walked away from Tom, refusing to be crushed. And she was the woman who was learning to fight back.

Chloe’s head came up, her chin lifted, and she examined the woman at the bar with new eyes.

Soft. She was soft. Chloe wouldn’t trade places with that woman for all Tenzin’s gold.

The woman turned and picked up her purse before she walked in Chloe’s direction, heading toward the bathrooms. Chloe caught Gavin’s eye, then she looked down at her phone again. It wouldn’t be good to draw attention. The woman brushed past Chloe, wafting sweet perfume.

Chloe kept an eye on the clock. It was likely they would leave after the woman finished in the restroom. Chloe heard a heavy step coming toward her. She looked up and met Gavin’s eyes a second before he backed her farther down the hall, gripped the back of her neck, and lifted her mouth to plunder.

Gavin’s kiss invaded her senses. His right hand gripped the nape of her neck and his left braced against the wall, caging her in as his tongue plunged into her mouth. She opened her lips instinctively, meeting his desire with her own. Her fists clutched the lapels of his jacket when he pressed her against the wall. His knee shoved between her thighs as he took her mouth and wiped every thought from her mind. His lips were firm, almost hard, and the hand at the back of her neck angled her mouth to his with an unyielding grip.

It was hard and hot and fast. The kiss only lasted seconds before he pulled away and whispered in her ear.

“Fuck me, but the look in your eyes just now.” His teeth sank into her earlobe and she gasped.

“Gavin—”

“One day soon, Chloe Reardon.” Just as quickly, he was gone.

Gavin left her standing with her mouth open and her blood running rampant as he moved to the end of the hall, straightening his cuffs and rubbing a thumb over his mouth. His tongue came out and flicked against his skin, as if he was tasting the last of their kiss.

The museum curator came out only seconds later, and Chloe saw the mask fall into place. Gavin was all charming smiles. He cocked his arm out, and the woman put her pretty little hand in the crook of his elbow. They walked out of the restaurant chatting, and Chloe followed them.

It was only seconds after they left the restaurant that Chloe saw the effect of Gavin’s amnis. They turned right and walked down 53rd Street. The curator leaned into his side. He put his arm around her, put his hand on the back of her neck. Chloe saw the thumb that had just brushed his lips press into the woman’s neck and knew that Gavin’s elemental energy was flooding her senses.

Ben fell into step beside her. “Stay close.”

They picked up the pace. No one stopped them when the woman walked to the glass double doors down the block and pulled out her keycard. She opened the door, and Gavin held it open for her to walk through. Then he nodded at Chloe and Ben. Ben put a hand on Chloe’s back and urged her forward. They slipped into the long hallway, staying close enough to Gavin and the woman to give the appearance that they were all together. The woman didn’t turn, not even when she opened the next door and Gavin let them in again.

Gavin paused and put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You have the uniforms?”

Ben nodded.

“Then you should be clear from here. I’ll be accompanying Dr. Walker up to the sixth floor to see the surrealist exhibit that she was so enthusiastic about. If I see you—”

“We’re invisible.” Ben slapped him on the shoulder. “Go.”

Gavin shot one last look at Chloe before he walked back to the woman and took her hand before she could regain her senses.

“You ready?” Ben asked.

Chloe nodded and they walked into the coat check. Ben handed her a staff uniform and one of the photo IDs he’d mocked up the night before.

“From what I saw upstairs, these are the right ones,” Ben said. “I have more in the bag if we need others. If they’re scanned, we’re in trouble, but they’ll be good enough for the eyeball test.”

“Got it.” Was she actually doing this? This was crazy! She was breaking into the Museum of Modern Art to… make sure no one stole a couple of paintings that belonged to the vampire they’d just stolen a different painting from a couple of nights before.

How did my life get so weird?

Chloe walked to the corner and turned her back, stripping off her clothes and putting on the uniform before she thought too much.

This was nuts and they were all going to jail.

* * *

Tenzin waited for the lights to dim before she tested the vent register over the air duct in the secluded hallway on the sixth floor. She’d spent the day crawling through the ventilation system of the museum. It was surprisingly enjoyable. She’d been able to eavesdrop on numerous conversations, had been privy to far more staff gossip than anticipated, and even scared a couple trying to have exhibitionist sex in the third-floor stairwell.

Honestly. Humans.

She really hadn’t considered lurking in museum ventilation systems as an interesting pastime prior to this job, but she decided to investigate the Metropolitan Museum next. That was far bigger than MoMA. She could probably spend days in there.

It had been silent for over an hour when she pushed open the register. She slipped out of the duct and dropped to the ground a moment before Ben rounded the corner.

“How did you—”

“This is the only register large enough for a person on the sixth floor that’s also in a hallway,” Ben said. “Here’s your uniform and ID. Chloe is already in the exhibit. They put her to work right away. Didn’t even bat an eye. You should blend in too.” He turned to face the wall.

“You’ve seen me naked before.”

“Tenzin, just change.”

She shrugged and pulled off her clothes, stowing her own stuff in the open duct. “Is Gavin here?”

“He chatted up the curator in the bar. That’s how we managed to get in. They’re wandering around too. Her name is Dr. Susan Walker. If anyone asks about you, just say Dr. Walker or Susan asked you to help.”

“Okay. Have you seen Emilie or René?”

“Not yet.”

“It’s possible they might do exactly what we did to grab Midnight Labyrinth.”

Ben asked, “Intercept the delivery? I thought about that.”

“Might be good for someone to stake out the loading area.”

“We don’t know if the shipment was set to go out tonight,” Ben said.

“It needs to go out tonight.” Tenzin tucked in the stiff white shirt and turned around. “I’m decent, you Puritan.”

Ben turned to face her. “We can’t wait. Whatever the schedule says, the Samson paintings go back to Rothman House tonight. If we run into trouble, we’ll need Gavin to use amnis on Dr. Walker.”

Tenzin nodded.

They walked out of the hallway and over to the special-exhibit gallery. The partitions had been taken away, and the lights were turned up while cases were being constructed and paintings and sculptures were being crated.

They were in the room adjacent to the Samson paintings when Tenzin heard her voice.

“I’m not sure what the problem is. These paintings were scheduled to go to the restoration room directly from the exhibit.”

Tenzin looked at Ben, and he’d heard the voice too. He really had exceptional ears for a human. His jaw clenched and his eyes were ice-cold.

“Not here,” Tenzin said quietly, picking up the pace.

“Okay,” a man’s voice said. “So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is… I have to check with, uh, Dr. Walker.” Chloe was valiantly bullshitting her way through an excuse.

“Dr. Walker is here tonight?” the man said. “What’s she doing here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Emilie said. “I have a work order.”

“But…” Chloe scrambled. “I think there’s been a mistake. I mean… do they look like they need to be restored? Sure, they’re old, but they seem to be in pretty good shape, so I’m not sure why they’d need to be restored. We should check with a curator, don’t you think?”

Ben and Tenzin rounded the corner right as Chloe was running out of steam.

“Oh… Te—iffany!” Chloe said when she spotted them. “Tiffany, did you hear anything about the Samsons going to Restoration?”

“No.” Tenzin walked up and crossed her arms, immediately going on the offensive with Emilie, who visibly paled as Tenzin approached. “These aren’t in the museum’s permanent collection; it’s not our job to restore them. Who are you?”

Emilie was wearing a white coat and gloves. Her hair was piled up into a bun with pencils sticking out of it. Her ID said her name was Sarah Miller and she was with the art restoration department.

Despite the increased heart rate Tenzin could hear, the human played it cool. “My name is Sarah Miller, and I work in the restoration department. And you are?”

“My name is Shu Chen.”

Emilie’s eyes went wide. “I thought your friend called you Tiffany.”

“Yeah, that’s my nickname.” Tenzin said nothing else. Let Emilie be the one to call liar.

Flustered, Emilie held up her paperwork. “Be that as it may, I think you’ll find this work order specifies both Twilight Labyrinth and Dawn Labyrinth are slated to go to Restoration tonight.”

The French accent was gone and a British accent had taken its place. Americans were foolish about British accents. For some reason, they conferred authority. It was an odd quirk of American culture Tenzin had noticed in Los Angeles, but it held true in New York.

“No, they’re not,” Tenzin said. “I was talking with Dr. Walker earlier. She said they were being shipped back to the donor tonight. Immediately, in fact. They need to be delivered as soon as possible.”

“Oh really?” Emilie asked. “Do you have paperwork?”

There was little Tenzin could to do to expose Emilie without giving her own facade away. Chloe had covered for them surprisingly well but had melted back and was trying to avoid notice. Tenzin couldn’t get a read on Ben. He was behind her, probably seething silently.

The museum employee standing between them looked annoyed, confused, and impatient. He clearly had better things to do than referee an argument between a grunt and a nerd.

Before Tenzin could say another word, Ben jumped in. “I think it’s obvious we just need to talk to Dr. Walker about this.” He ignored all the women and spoke to the employee in a one-of-the-boys voice. “It’s so easy for wires to get crossed on this kind of stuff, am I right?”

The employee looked relieved. “Curators. They’re particular about how stuff gets organized, you know?”

“Exactly,” Ben said, nudging Tenzin aside. “Let’s get the okay from Dr. Walker before we do anything. Have her sign off on any changes, okay?” He turned to Emilie. “I’m pretty sure we’d piss of a lot of really important people if these paintings ended up in the wrong place.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” the man said. “I’m gonna go find her. See what she wants to do.”

The employee walked off, leaving Chloe, Tenzin, Ben, and Emilie standing next to the Samson paintings. Tenzin didn’t need to be a vampire to feel the energy in the room.

“Hi there, sweetheart,” Ben said in a low voice. “Did you miss me?”