Janet Evanovich: Wicked Appetite

Hatchet was waiting in the front office. He had a Band-Aid across his nose and a chunk of skin missing from his forehead.

“Who goes there?” Hatchet said.

“Sir Diesel, Sir Monkey, Sir Cat, and Maid Lizzy,” Diesel said.

Hatchet motioned to a corridor. “My Lord awaits you.”

At the end of the corridor was the large room that Lenny and Mark had described. White walls. No windows. High ceiling that was painted black and had exposed ductwork. A casket rested in the middle of the room, and Wulf stood at the head of the casket.

“If I’d known there was going to be a parade, I’d have brought my elephant,” Wulf said, taking in Carl and Cat.

Diesel looked at the casket. “How long’s Uncle Phil been sitting out here?”

“Not long,” Wulf said. “I’ve had him in the frozen fish locker.”

“Good to know. I thought the dead fish smell was coming from Hatchet,” Diesel said.

“Did you bring the charms?” Wulf asked Diesel.

Diesel took the charms from his pocket and held them in his palm so Wulf could see.

“They have an excellent selection of baby carriages at Target,” I whispered to Diesel.

“Not now,” Diesel said. “Get a grip.”

“Was I bad? Do I need to get punished? Maybe I need a good paddling.”

Wulf looked like he was thinking about rolling his eyes, and Diesel wrapped an arm around my shoulders and dragged me into him.

“We’ll get to that later,” Diesel said.

“I’d be happy to paddle the wench if you’re too busy,” Hatchet said.

Diesel cut his eyes to him, and Hatchet took a step back.

“Just a thought,” Hatchet said.

“Why did you dig Phil up?” Diesel asked Wulf.

“Six weeks ago, I happened upon Philip More’s diary, and I realized he was a SALIGIA guardian. At one point in the diary, late in his life, he said he would take the Stone to his grave, and that it could only be rescued by all the Humbugs in Salem.”

Diesel looked at the charms. “And you think these are humbugs?”

“There are four bugs carved into the lid of the casket. Mark More’s dragonfly charm fits into the dragonfly carving.”

“But it wasn’t enough to open the casket?” Diesel guessed.

“No,” Wulf said. “The casket is sealed, and I’m not inclined to open it with force.”

There were some strange creaking sounds, and howling, and Michael Jackson singing in my purse.

“What the heck?” I said.

“It’s your cell phone,” Diesel said. “I used ‘Thriller’ for your ring tone.”

I pulled my phone out and saw it was my dad. We had a two-minute conversation, and I returned my phone to my purse.

“He was just checking in,” I told everyone. “He’s at a conference.”

Wulf and Diesel exchanged glances, and Wulf gave his head an almost imperceptible shake, like he couldn’t believe they were saddled with me.

“What do you want from this?” Diesel asked Wulf. “You can’t have the Stone. The Stone goes to the BUM.”

“That’s so tedious,” Wulf said.

Diesel shrugged.

“I could force you to give me the Stone,” Wulf said.

Diesel did a tight smile. “I don’t think so.”

“It probably wouldn’t end well for either of us,” Wulf said.

“Yeah, and Aunt Sophie would be pissed.”

Wulf took a beat. “Legend has it that when a guardian dies he’s buried with an inscribed tablet. I’ll give you the Stone without a fight, but I want the tablet.”

“Deal,” Diesel said. “My instructions are to get the Stone.”

Diesel placed the ladybug on its carving and the bug hummed. “Nice,” Diesel said. “Very clever. And it feels like there’s a slight magnetic pull, holding the charm secure.” He placed the honeybee on the honeybee carving and the bee hummed.

Diesel was about to place the cockroach on the casket, and my purse rocked out with “Thriller” again.

“Excuse me,” I said. And I answered my phone.

“I’m beginning to appreciate Hatchet,” Wulf said to Diesel.

Diesel smiled. “She has her moments. And she makes cupcakes.”

I disconnected and stuffed my phone into my pocket.

“Well?” Diesel asked.

“It was Glo. Her broom ran away again.”

“I would appreciate it if we could get on with this without more interruption,” Wulf said in his eerily quiet voice, his eyes riveted on mine.

“Lighten up,” I said to Wulf. “Glo lost her broom again. This is a big deal for her. And what have we got here anyway… a dead guy and a Stone. Do you think they can wait for three minutes longer?”

Diesel gave a bark of laughter, and Wulf looked like he was trying hard not to sigh. Diesel set the cockroach onto the cockroach carving, and we listened to the bug hum.

“Your turn,” Diesel said to Wulf.

Wulf laid his dragonfly on the dragonfly carving. All four bugs hummed in unison, locks tumbled, and the casket lid released with a hiss of air.

Carl wrapped his arms around Diesel’s leg. “Eep.”

Cat’s ears pricked forward.

“Open it,” Wulf said to Hatchet.

Hatchet’s face paled. “Me?”

Wulf glared at Hatchet, and Hatchet tentatively reached out and touched the casket. Nothing happened, so Hatchet stepped a little closer and raised the lid. We all peered inside, and no one said anything for a full minute. Diesel was the first to speak.

“Where’s Uncle Phil?” Diesel asked.

“I don’t know the answer to that question,” Wulf said.

The casket held a small stone and a metal tablet the size of a greeting card. No ashes. No body. No Uncle Phil.

Hatchet was closest to the casket. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and his skin looked clammy.

“The Stone,” Hatchet said. “The SALIGIA Stone. It’s beautiful. Can you hear it? It’s singing.”

I wasn’t hearing any singing, and I didn’t see all that much beauty in the Stone. I mean, it was a plain ol’ rock the size of a duck egg, for crying out loud.

“Fear not, my liege, these thieves shall not have our Stone,” Hatchet said. “This Stone belongs to thee and me.” Hatchet plunged his arm into the casket and grabbed the Stone. His eyes bugged out of his head as he stared at the Stone in his hand. “I can feel the power,” he said, almost reverently. “It’s inside me. It’s like I’m the Stone. Like I’m a god.”

“The God of Gluttony?” Diesel asked.

Hatchet cut his eyes to Diesel. “The God of Everything.”

Diesel looked over at Wulf. “Do you want to run with this one, or should I take it?”

Wulf smiled his joyless smile. “It’s your Stone.”

“Yeah, but it’s your minion.”

“No longer,” Hatchet said, snatching the tablet from the casket, drawing his sword. “I have the power now. And I have the knowledge. And very soon I’ll have all the Stones.”

“What’s he talking about?” Diesel asked Wulf.

“The tablets kept the guardians connected. Every guardian carried another guardian’s tablet. So whoever possesses the tablet has an opportunity to find the next Stone, providing they can understand the tablet’s inscription. The tablets were forged centuries ago and are written in an arcane language, which Steven won’t be able to read.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Hatchet said. “I’ll figure it out. I have one Stone, and I won’t stop until I possess the rest. I don’t need you anymore. Now I have the power.”

“Give me the tablet,” Wulf said.

“The tablet’s mine,” Hatchet told him. “You lose.”

“Close your eyes,” Wulf said to me. “I’m going to kill him.”

I looked to Diesel. “Is he serious?”

Diesel shrugged. “Probably.”

“Don’t be crazy,” I said to Hatchet. “Give him his tablet.”