Glass Angels

Chapter 1: Witchy Woman

Neal's Loft. January 25, 2006. Wednesday evening.

"It will only take a few minutes." Mozzie peered pleadingly through his glasses at Neal. Nobody could wheedle better than Mozzie, but this time he'd be out of luck.

"Not happening," Neal said firmly. "I will not break into the Tomb this weekend."

Ever since Mozzie had discovered a link so tenuous that only he could see it between the Yale secret society Skull and Bones, the Illuminati, and a lost artifact of fabulous value, visions of the Tudor Crown had been spinning in his head. The fact that the headquarters of Skull and Bones—the Tomb—was off-limits to non-members only served to whet his enthusiasm.

"You're being unreasonable," Mozzie grumbled. "You're staying in New Haven for two nights. Electra's house is only a few blocks from the Yale campus. You'll have a car, but you could even walk the distance." He frowned. "You should be thanking me. Sara would love the thrill of breaking into the Tomb."

Neal wasn't about to tell him he was probably right. "You haven't asked her, I hope."

"No, I thought you'd want to. This will demonstrate the exciting future which awaits her if she stays with you. Sara's an adventurer. She lives for danger. You'll be stifling her—"

At Neal's anguished groan, Mozzie stopped and topped off Neal's glass with a spectacular Pommard he'd brought over. But despite the excellence of the wine, the battle was already lost. There were far too many other distractions in Neal's life, like preparing for the upcoming master class he was supposed to teach the following week. The Tudor Crown would have to wait.

The next day, Neal would be at Columbia all day. His advisor, Ivan Sherkov, would demand an update on the class. He wouldn't accept a missing Renaissance artifact as an excuse, no matter how fabulous. it was.

"If the Tomb contained any information about the Tudor Crown, bonesmen would have discovered it long ago," Neal pointed out, hoping to appeal to any rational cells left in Mozzie's feverish imaginings. "In any case, we'll probably work through the night. Aidan's leaving tomorrow for New Haven and has to finish all the photography work by Sunday afternoon. I doubt anyone will get much sleep."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time. Aidan told me the film would be practically all CGI."

"True, but he still needs to obtain the raw footage that will form the basis. And you know how particular he is about camera angles."

Mozzie nodded grudgingly. "He's even more exacting than I am." He let out a long sigh, hopefully conceding defeat. "Charles Ireton spent the last two decades of his life in Manhattan. Any clues about the crown's location are most likely here. That list of names I'd found in his belongings begs for more research."

Neal would just as soon not be reminded of that vengeful spirit. Charles Ireton had been a bonesman in the late nineteenth century. A couple of months ago, his ghost returned to haunt Columbia University. He'd killed two people and was undoubtedly planning to do the same to Sara and Mozzie if they hadn't been rescued.

Mozzie was providing a good reminder, as if Neal needed any, to stay far away from anything associated with Ireton. The Winchesters swore that with his bones burned and his soul-object destroyed, he'd be unable to return to the upper world, but it would be just Neal's luck to find the Tudor Crown only to have it be haunted.

"How long will Sara be in town?" Mozzie asked.

"She returns to London on Tuesday night. The training conference that Sterling-Bosch is hosting lasts two days." Sara was scheduled to lead a workshop on the special challenges American agents faced in working overseas. Thanks to the conference, her travel was courtesy of her company. "We'll return to New York on Sunday afternoon, just in time for June's party to celebrate the Lunar Year of the Dog."