Chapter 50

Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Wilshire Boulevard, Los Angeles, California, United States

In the darkened embrace of a back alley, Gen descended like a shadow upon the thieves stealing her history. The dragonrider's form was a blur against the stark contrast of the moonlit theft. She landed from the second story of an adjacent building soundlessly, in a low crouched position.

However, the closest man in black spotted her, pulling a pistol, like the coward that he was, instead of fighting with his hands. Gen sprang up at once, throwing a roundhouse kick across the man's arm as he extended it with the gun. The clang of the metal when the weapon fell to the concrete alerted the others in the area to the disturbance—all eyes shooting straight to Gen.

The man she had just assaulted jerked his gaze to the fallen weapon in the distance, and then to the men down the long alleyway. Then deciding that he wasn't going to win this fight against this woman dressed in black, he turned and fled for the closest van, diving into the back where the doors were wide open. At once he pulled them closed, screaming to someone in the front.

Apparently, not wanting a fight either, many of the other men scattered like rats into the vans. The engines of the vehicles revved right before they peeled out, shooting exhaust onto the scene. Gen turned her attention to the other men who were backing for the museum, having been left behind by their "friends."

Facing the strange medieval warrior who appeared to have come to take back her heirlooms, they retreated. Each of the cowards darted through a large roll-up door where they'd been unloading the artifacts from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Gen sighed, wondering if she really seemed that intimidating. Then she caught sight of something glowing over her shoulder and turned to find that Emperor had soundlessly landed at her back, a menacing gleam in his eyes.

"I had this," she muttered over her shoulder to the dragon who had definitely been what scared the men away instead of fighting.

"And I had your back," Emperor stated in a deep voice. "Hamilton Dixon ran into the museum. He's the key to finding out who is behind this and what's really going on. Go after him."

"Fine, keep an eye on things out here and scorch any other thieves who try and escape," she ordered, taking off into the back of the museum.

In a relentless pursuit after the thieves, Gen's footsteps were a silent promise of retribution. She navigated the labyrinth of exhibits, listening for the men and the direction they'd gone. Cautiously, she approached a corner ahead, aware that someone could jump out and attack her. However, these men appeared bent on fleeing, rather than fighting.

Gen's instincts guided her through the narrow corridors and around the many walls full of empty cases. The place that had been filled with medieval artifacts that afternoon was now ransacked. Many of the items were gone or bundled up in cases in the middle of the larger halls.

Although Gen wasn't sure how many valuables had been stolen from the museum, she was going to find them all and return them to their place. This mission just got personal. If Gen didn't get to have her family's heirlooms then the people of the world would sure as hell get to see them on display in the museum. Thieves would not profit from them.

Just as Gen had this conviction, she sped into the first main room full of glass cases, many of them half occupied. The artifacts that had been emptied were all sitting on the plastic tarps, ready to be wrapped up and transported.

"Hurry! Hurry," Hamilton Dixon yelled, waving his arms rapidly. "Grab what you can and get out the door!"

When Gen sprinted into the room, she halted, narrowing her eyes at the man on the far side of the large hall. He froze too. As did all the thieves holding various priceless objects.

"You!" he growled, his eyes full of hostility. "You don't work for the Smithsonian."

"And you don't work for Scott Bernard," Gen spat back. "Who do you work for?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he countered, pointing a finger at her. "Get her so that we can get out of here!"

The men closest to Gen, holding artifacts, hurled the objects in her direction. She shot her hands into the air, using a freezing spell immediately, making the objects suspend in mid-air where she lowered them gently to the floor, unharmed.

"Not with the priceless artifacts, you fools!" Hamilton yelled, his face flushing furiously red. "And she's a magician! Use your guns!"

Before the men could pull their guns, Gen made a defiant sweep of her hand, magically sending a blast of wind through the air to buy herself some time. It hit them with a gale-like force, thankfully not touching the artifacts beside her but nearly knocking the men reaching for their guns off their feet.

That gave Gen the time she needed for her next move. Instantly, she grabbed for Bellumferrum, telepathically calling for the enigmatic cube's help. Like before, she didn't know what it would become, only that it would read her dangerous situation and become the thing that would help her most. For a split second, Gen worried that the Weapon of War would become a gun to combat these men—she desperately didn't want to fight fire with fire.

To her shock, Bellumferrum transformed into a metal can with a spigot on the top. Instantly, she intuitively knew it was something called an air horn. And thankfully, the Weapon of War told her how to use it which simply involved smashing the button on the top. That's where the inside knowledge stopped though and Gen had no idea what to expect when she pressed the button.

For that reason, the deafening noise that shot through the air nearly made Gen's heart jump out of her chest. Thankfully it shocked all the men too, making them freeze. The excruciatingly loud noise that cut through the air was joined by more commotion as the empty glass cases in the museum burst, shards flying all over the floors, making a cacophony of sounds. This was instantly followed by a loud siren as red lights started strobing and the alarms rang overhead.

"She's triggered the backup alarm!" Hamilton yelled, motioning toward the door. "Get out of here! The police will be called!"

All the men abandoned the fight, running for the door, Hamilton in the lead. Gen slipped Bellumferrum back into her pocket, the object already resuming its cube shape. Launching herself forward, Gen hoped to catch the men before they got away. What she really needed to do was get a hold of Hamilton Dixon—then she was going to beat him until he spilled his secrets.

As she vaulted over the obstacles in her path, Gen's gaze locked with Hamilton's. He'd turned back to look at her through the glass doors. The once-trusted Director of Security now revealed as a traitor, narrowed his gaze at her, shaking his head with fury before spinning around and taking off. She knew all too well that she'd ruined everything for him, but that was only the beginning. Gen promised to really bring that man down and whoever he was working for since it obviously wasn't the Director of LACMA.

The villains fled the museum, running for their steel chariots. They disappeared into large black vans, speeding away at once, the doors still open as they clambered in over each other. Hamilton jumped into a bright yellow sleek car that was long and low to the ground. It was much sexier than the bulky vans, its engine purring when he started it before tearing off down the road, after the other fleeing vehicles.

Gen emerged through the grand entrance, a lone warrior against the tide, her resolve as unyielding as the artifacts she vowed to protect. The night air crackled with tension as Gen looked around for her options.

From the rooftops, an elegant purple dragon as dark as the night landed with a swoosh and clatter of claws on the concrete. With his wings extended and a fierce expression of rebellion, Emperor looked back, over his shoulder at Gen. There was a glint of majesty in his gold eyes. "Need a ride?"

"I do," she said, her heart palpitating with relief and excitement. Gen launched herself forward, throwing one leg around Emperor's back as she slid easily into the saddle and hunched down low, ready for the take off and a nonstop pursuit through the streets of Los Angeles.