Read Online Gargoyle Quest by William Massa - Free Book Online

 
    She’d made the right decision coming here. Already she was feeling a little less worried. All she could do was hope her father was right. She drained the rest of her wine, and at some point during their conversation, she drifted off to sleep on the couch.
    The next day, fiery sunlight washed over her face and woke her with a jolt. She didn’t remember passing out. Her dad must’ve placed a blanket on her, a realization that brought a warm smile to her face. Her heart filled with deep affection for her father. She worried about him, too. He put up a brave face to the world but Cael had done a number on him. As soon as she resolved this mess with Artan, she promised herself to spend more time with him. And talking about time….
    She glanced at her cell and sighed. Great, it was already eight o’clock. She’d overslept and felt hungover. She’d better get cracking if she didn’t want to be late for work. Artan still hadn’t answered any of her messages. She called him three times as she hunted about for the suitcase of clothes and toiletries she kept at her father’s house for unplanned visits like this, but she only got Artan’s voicemail. His phone must be dead. Still, didn’t mean he was in trouble, she told herself. He could be back to their Brooklyn loft right now, enjoying a leisurely snooze. Charging a phone wouldn’t exactly be high on the priority list of a fifth century warrior.  
    Rhianna shook her head to clear it of her racing thoughts. She had to focus on the day ahead. Without much enthusiasm, she showered and got dressed, leaving a note for her dad on the kitchen counter before she hurried out the door. Rushing down bustling city blocks against a soundtrack of honking cabs and belching buses, she balanced a bagel in one hand and a scalding cup of Starbucks in the other. Just another New Yorker forced to scarf down a not-so-balanced breakfast on the go.  
    Arriving at the MET, she couldn’t shake the growing feeling of unease. Normally she entered the museum with an enthusiastic grin, thrilled by the prospect of spending another day among its countless treasures. Today the place triggered only a budding sense of claustrophobia, the artifact-stuffed walls closing in on her. She was trapped in here while Artan was God knows where. If she didn’t hear from him soon, she’d call the cops and file a missing persons report. Another emotion was beginning to lace her concern: Anger. How could Artan have done this to her? Didn’t he realize she’d be worried sick about him?  
    As soon as she stepped into her office, the phone started ringing non-stop and she was swept up by the responsibilities of the new day. Compounding the stress was the fact that Maxwell hadn’t shown up for work. Although she didn’t much care for her newest co-worker personally, he was a rising start at the MET and had made himself indispensable. Rhianna now had to shoulder the workload of two people. Adding to her frustration, her co-worker hadn’t even called in sick, and all her attempts of getting in touch with him ended with her reaching his voicemail. What the hell was going on this morning? Did no one answer their phones anymore?
    After two hours of running around the museum non-stop, feeling like she was always a step behind, she bumped into Martin, the chief of security, inside the Art of Africa wing. This section of the MET housed more than 11,000 pieces from sub-Saharan Africa, the Pacific Islands and Americas. Surrounded by ancient images of gods, ancestors and spirits, and a variety of decorative and ceremonial objects, the twenty-first century seemed like a distant place.  
    As Rhianna zeroed in on Martin, she noticed the deep concern lining the guard’s face. His troubled expression mirrored her own.
    “What’s wrong, Martin?” she asked.
    He gestured at the security cameras positioned around the ceiling. “Our security system is down. I don’t know how, but-”
    “What are you talking about?”