XXIV | News Channel 26

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"I'M PROFESSOR CORALINE FROM LONDON UNIVERSITY," I say. "And this is my journalist, Violetta Straus."

Angel slides the bridge of her glasses up her nose and holds out a hand to Horace Colora, the great grandson of one of the most infamous thieves in history.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Colora."

Horace scrapes his hand through his thinning hair and pulls his fraying robe tighter over himself. It's two in the afternoon, and it seems as though we've just woken him up.

"I'm―hello, was this―I'm sorry, I seem to have recollected . . . was this meeting supposed to be tomorrow? The eighteenth?" he says, flustered.

I smile pleasantly. "It is the eighteenth, sir."

"Oh," he says, swallowing nervously, "oh, goodness, gracious, oh my. Come in. Please." He steps back, and I can't help but look down at the knobbiness of his knees, the sharp angles of his legs. He looks . . . starved. And hungover.

As we follow Horace into his house, I look around for any signs of his one child. Since he was divorced years ago, I don't expect him to have any touch of his wife, but there is a woman who I can only assume he was married to in photographs and portraits. It seems he never quite got over her.

There is also a picture of his son on his counter, but no sign of toys or backpacks or lunchbags anywhere. Anything a kid might have.

"So what is it . . . that you would, er, like to talk about?"

I hold the notebook closer to me. I insisted that it would be me who went in to talk to him, considering I knew the facts, and Angel refused to let anyone else go with me but herself.

"The University is currently investigating a new piece," I say, sitting down on a chair opposite Horace with Angel next to me. "Six of Swords, a very forward group for their time. Considering your great grandfather was the only known member, we would like to know if you have any additional research or information to provide us."

He looks hesitant, twitchy.

I add, "Of course, your name would be featured in the headlines. As the star of this critical knowledge."

He seems to brighten up a little, and Angel gives me a tap of approval. Her fingers graze the small of my back. For a moment, I find it hard to concentrate.

"Ah, yes, well, the ruby, you must be aware of . . ."

I feel Angel nodding alongside me.

"Well, this is a story that's been passed down many times, and I'm not entirely sure how accurate it is . . . but gather what you will from it . . ."

And then he begins.


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The next story will be told in the same way A Monster With Pearl Teeth was, so read on!

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To the moon and back,
Sarai

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