Getting Wilde by Jenn Stark

tomorrow, in fact, with the reliquary intact.”  
    “Fair enough.” I stowed the seal in my jacket. “So in preparation for that, why don’t you go ahead and get your bank online as well. I’ll want my money transferred the moment I toss you your pretty gold toy.”  
       
       

Chapter Eight
       
     The driver Armaeus had hired to pick me up from Leonardo de Vinci Airport wasn’t a local. It wasn’t until I’d slung myself into the back seat of the dark blue sedan that I realized this important fact, as he started talking to me in a rich French accent. Just what I didn’t need.  
    “Welcome to Rome, mademoiselle. Where are we off to?’    
    “The Forum,” I said. “Anywhere close to the main entrance on Via dei Fori Imperiali .”  
    “ Mais non! It is far too early. Your boss, he is unreasonable.”  
    I blinked at the man, catching his wide smile in the rearview mirror . “Excuse me?”  
    “It is Rome, at night under the stars. Sending you straight to a tourist trap, and not even one of the better tourist traps, is — pfft.” His censure was more amusing than it should have been. Maybe I was tired. But he kept going. “ Bien sûr , the Forum, it was quite grand back in its day, but its day is long past. It’s not like it’s the Colosseum or the Trevi Fountain. Mon Dieu, send you to the basilica at the very least, but the Forum? Please. The place, it is locked up tight!”  
    I couldn’t help smiling as the driver kept up a nonstop stream of chatter. His banter, detailing the trials of being an on-command limo driver to the stars, kept me energized at least, and that, along with caffeine pills and some mumbo jumbo Armaeus had muttered at me when I’d left for the plane, was apparently all the rest I was going to get before this day was done. As we sped toward Rome, I went through the plan again. According to Armaeus, I would have to navigate through a mile of catacombs and underground passageways, one of them, notably, under water—before emerging into the subterranean underpinnings of the Vatican. The necropolis was relatively close to the surface but still deep enough that I shouldn’t be disturbed at the hour I would be reaching it. I patted the pocket of my jacket, locating the deck I’d hijacked from Henri. This underground journey was going to be a series of yes-nos viewed by penlight, so I separated a few of the Major Arcana cards, sliding the rest back into the—  
    “Mademoiselle?”  
    “What!” I jumped about a foot, and the driver had the good grace to wince. We stopped at a light, and he turned around.  
    “Apologies,” he said, his gaze falling to my hands. “Oh! You are a student of the Tarot. Formidable! ”  
    “Thanks.” Several additional cards had fallen out of the deck, and I scooped them off the floor, keeping them separate from the pack along with my Majors. Cards didn’t jump out of a deck for no reason, even if the reason was a bad one—like a driver who wouldn’t shut up.  
    “I wanted to let you know we’re almost there,” the driver said, swinging back around to drive. “Is there anything you need before I leave? Mini bottled water? Tourist map?” He handed both items to me over the back of his seat, seemingly out of habit, his eyes never leaving the road once we started moving again. I took his offerings just as automatically, though I wasn’t thirsty—and a map wasn’t exactly going to get me where I needed to go tonight.  
    As I tucked the map into my jacket pocket along with the cards, the car slowed and angled over to the right. I peered out the window, taking in the uplit view of the Roman Forum. We were at one of the main entrances, as requested, some enormous old building half standing off to our left, its arched columns looming in silent testimony to a world gone by.  
    “Thanks,” I said, pulling out some folded euros. “Oh, and here—I appreciate you driving me this late.”  
    “No problem at all,