Page 6 of Flames

“I am supposed to be arm candy for the host, Alexander Yovik,” I answer honestly.

He tsks against the shell of my ear, a displeased sound. “Don’t lie to me, pŭtěnĭcĭ.”

Unease builds in my core. My defensive walls begin to build back up and I feel myself stiffen. Phoenix must notice because he chuckles softly, the sound vibrating his chest which I’m currently pressed against.

“You’re here for the tapestry, right?” he asks, so softly that only I can hear, before he spins me outward.

My shocked expression must instantly give me away. I’ve never been caught before. And certainly I’ve never been called out like this by… Well, I don’t know who the fuck this smartass is exactly, but he seems to have me pegged.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask as he releases my hand, leaving me standing in the center of swirling dancers as he slowly steps backwards.

“I told you, moya pŭtěnĭcĭ,” he says as he reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a Zippo and cigarette. Bringing the flame to the tip of the tobacco between his teeth, he lights it, the smoke swirling around him as the tip glows red. “Phoenix.”

He drops the cigarette, igniting the fluid I clearly didn’t see earlier lining the walkway which leads out of the ballroom. Flames immediately shoot up, flaring up around the form of the man slowly backing away. Shrieks ring out, and I cover my face to avoid the crushing heat of the flames.

“Get back!” Alexander’s voice thunders through the shouts of the crowd. His fat fingers wrap around my arm and pull me back from the blaze. “Security! Get this put out, now!”

Men in suits come running, fire extinguishers in hand. Alexander holds tightly to my arm, his grip bruising. I wonder for a second if he saw me dancing with the masked pyro…

“Are you hurt?” he asks me while giving me a slight glance out of the corner of his eye, maintaining his focus on the slowly dying blaze.

“He mentioned a tapestry,” I blurt out.

It’s a risky move. There will be no chance to pull off the heist now that I’ve brought his attention to the tapestry, but my plan was already blown up… literally, by a man dressed like a fucking golden bird. So, if he wants to ruin my plan, then two can play that game.

Karma’s a bitch.

Alexander’s eyes go wide with horror as he swivels to stare at me. “Tapestry?”

He sounds pissed. He grumbles something in angry Russian into the intercom, which I know is hidden on him somewhere, and immediately even more black suit-clad storm troopers surround us.

“Let’s go,” he barks out as a path in the flames is cleared.

“Me?” I ask in horror as I’m jostled forward by the guards. My pulse is thumping at a heightened tempo. “I didn’t do anything.”

My feet shuffle across the marble floor as the men surrounding us look straight ahead, like well dressed robots.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Alexander grumbles as he walks swiftly towards the ornate twirling staircase which leads to the second story. “Not with a dangerous thief lurking in my house.” He turns to one of his men, the vein in his temple throbbing. “How did he get in here? Find out who let an unidentified thief into my home and rip each one of their toenails off… slowly.”

Gross. And horrible.

The storm trooper robot man nods and breaks from the group, I’m guessing to go investigate. I don’t dare say a word. If Yovik begins to suspect me, I’m cooked.

We reach the second story and march down a hallway that I know leads to his office. Right where I suspected the tapestry was hiding.

I was so fucking close.

“What the fuck!?” Alexander roars as he throws open the carved wooden double doors. “It’s gone!”

I peek around the doorway as the guards file into the room, searching every nook and cranny as if the giant man and the priceless tapestry are hiding beneath the couch. Idiots. He’s long gone with the prize… my prize.

Fuck a damn duck.

“Find him! Fucking find him!” Alexander screeches as he picks up a glass statue from his desk and hurls it against the wall.

I take that as my sign to duck out before things get too wild around here. But just as I’m about to spin, something catches my eye—a golden tail feather laying on the sill of the open window. It shifts slightly as a breeze blows by, the moonlight catching on the glimmering clue.

THREE