The next installment of my book...

Chapter 2

Sitting at his desk, jamming out to his favorite album from U2 on his iPod, Billy was researching Celtic art from the 1500s. One of the things he loved most about being Reilly’s assistant was the chance to do some of the research she didn’t have time to do herself. He loved finding out about ancient artifacts and art.

It was almost like being there, he thought, I get to look into the past, its secrets and its mysteries, and for a moment in time I can pretend to be the valiant knight and save the damsel or I’m the brave Mayan king at war with the neighboring tribe. That’d be really cool.

He continued to tap his foot in rhythm to the music. Not that my life is so bad, he thought. A great job, some really cool friends and I finally grew into my head. At least I don’t look like a giant cantaloupe on top of a stick anymore. Plus, he thought, I get to work with Reilly. That, in and of itself, made life worth living.

She was amazing. Tall, athletic, shoulder-length hair, a face that he thought would stop traffic and she always smelled like honeysuckle. Oh, man, did he love honeysuckle. Yeah, all in all, not a bad gig.

As U2 spoke of the atrocities from the terrible battle on Bloody Sunday, Billy was delving into the mysteries of the 16th Century in Edinburgh, Scotland. He thought the music fit the research and often tried to match the two. Of course, this song didn’t have much to do with Scotland, he realized, but hey, Ireland was close enough, right?

His research led him to an odd article about curling. He’d never even heard of the sport before and was amazed to find that it not only was popular way back then, but was an actual Olympic sport today.

“Hey Reilly, check this out.” He said as his boss rushed through the door to the office.
“Sorry, no time. Where’s that package from this morning?”
“Should still be on your desk.” He followed her into her office. “Seriously, have you ever heard of curling? Ya know, that sport where they push a big rock down a patch of ice while some guys run ahead of it with brooms? Can you believe they do that in the Olympics?”
“Yes, I mean no, I mean…what are you talking about? Now, where the hell is that thing?” Right then, she noticed that it had fallen under the chair when she dropped it this morning. Bending to pick it up, she felt a shiver of cold run up her spine. “Look, I can’t talk right now, ok. Just leave me whatever it is you’re babbling about and I promise I’ll read it later, ok?”

She hadn’t meant to be short with Billy, but she was spooked from Carly’s dream and needed to see what had been delivered. Was it really the beginning of her end? Could it possibly have something to do with her upcoming and untimely death? Or was it simply another donated artifact that needed to be catalogued and displayed?

It’s just another donation, it’s just another donation, she repeated to herself as she removed the wrapping. And, by the time she’d gotten to the box inside, almost believed it. She was about to laugh at herself for being so superstitious but didn’t have time because the second she saw what was in the box, she screamed.

Billy had never been so scared in his life. Not even that time when he had to give a speech to hundreds of professors and had forgotten his notes. This kind of scared was worse.
When he heard her scream, his legs couldn’t move fast enough. He went racing through the door.
“Reilly, Reilly, what the hell happened?
“Oh my God, oh my God. The brooch. The little miniature brooch. Did you see it? Where is it? How could…” Reilly started to babble as Billy handed her a glass of water.

“What brooch? Is that what was in the package? Let me see.” Billy answered and took the box from Reilly’s clenched and pale fingers. “What’s so scary about a….holy cow…that’s you! Cool! When did you have this done? It’s a really good replica of those miniature brooches they used to do in Europe, what did they call it? Oh yeah, limning. Yep, this is really cool. What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Reilly took the box back from Billy, unsure how to tell him she’d never sat for this portrait and she was pretty darn sure it hadn’t been done any time in the recent past.