Two days later, the board brought in an outside consultant.
They called her a “risk mitigation specialist.”
Isla called her a shark in silk.
Her name was Dr. Leona Ward.
Early forties, black hair in a sleek bob, tailored suit that probably cost more than Isla’s annual rent. She walked through the museum like she owned it, tablet in hand, eyes sharp.
Halpern hated her on sight.
Which almost made Isla like her.
Almost.
They were introduced in a conference room that smelled faintly of whiteboard markers and stale cookies.
“Dr. Ward has extensive experience in cultural heritage security,” the board chair cooed. “She worked with the British Museum during the London incidents.”
Isla’s stomach dropped.
The “London incidents” were the euphemistic way museums referred to the string of bizarre thefts five years earlier: objects vanishing from locked cases, cameras glitching, a few unlucky guards coming away with stories about “shadows” they’d recanted under pressure.
No one had ever caught the culprit.
Conspiracy forums still whispered about it.
Leona’s gaze swept the table.
“Pleasure,” she said, voice smooth. “I understand you’ve had… anomalies.”
Her eyes flicked to Isla.
She felt pinned.
Halpern cleared his throat.
“We’ve had a colleague institution experience a security breach,” he said. “We’re being cautious.”
Leona’s mouth curved.
“Caution is good,” she said. “Paranoia is better.”
Isla suppressed a shiver.
She felt Tim’s presence like a steady weight at her back, even though he wasn’t in the room. He’d texted her *be careful* three times that morning.
She’d replied with a dragon emoji, just to see if he’d choke.
He had.
Now, as Leona tapped her tablet and pulled up pixelated stills from the Hammond’s glitchy footage, Isla’s pulse kicked.
“These were provided by Dr. Thompson,” Leona said. “Under strict confidentiality.”
She zoomed in on a stopped frame of static.
To the untrained eye, it was nothing.
To Isla’s, now sensitized to the crack-thing’s signature, it was… something.
A smear of not-quite-shadow in the blur.
Her thumb ached.
“The pattern matches a series of incidents I investigated in London,” Leona went on. “And in Barcelona. And in Prague. Certain objects, certain collections, are being… targeted. The common denominator is a particular type of magical residue.”
The word hung in the air, heavy.
Magical.
Isla’s breath hitched.
Halpern coughed.
“Surely you don’t mean that literally,” the board chair said with a brittle laugh.
Leona arched a brow.
“I find that in situations like these, it’s best not to dismiss any working theory out of hand,” she said. “The London reports used ‘electromagnetic fluctuations’ as a placeholder. Prague’s official documents say ‘unknown environmental factor.’ I say: if it walks like a curse and quacks like a curse…”
“Leona,” one of the older trustees said weakly. “We’re a public institution.”
“Which is why we will not be using the m-word in any official communication,” Leona said smoothly. “In-house, however…” Her gaze swept the room. “I’d rather we be honest.”
Isla’s hands tightened in her lap.
This woman was dangerous.
Smart.
Open to the supernatural.
Employed by the board.
“Dr. Reyes,” Leona said, looking at her. “You’ve been in the sub-basement more than anyone. Have you noticed any… anomalies? Temperature shifts? Unexplained sounds? Feelings of being watched?”
Her heart stuttered.
“Yes,” she almost said.
No, she told herself firmly.
Not to her.
Not yet.
“Old buildings creak,” she said aloud, keeping her tone level. “The HVAC system down there is practically a relic. We had a minor leak last month. Humidity fluctuations are… normal.”
Leona’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she could taste the evasion.
“Normal,” she repeated.
Halpern jumped in.
“Reyes did experience a fainting spell last week,” he said. “Concussion. The doctor cleared her. We don’t think it’s related to any… anomalies.”
Isla wanted to sink through the floor.
Leona smiled thinly.
“Good to know,” she said. “I’ll want to review your sensor logs, Dr. Reyes. And any incident reports involving… unusual phenomena.”
“Of which there are none,” the board chair said quickly.
Leona’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Of course,” she said.
***