The Bone Artists by Madeleine Roux Page B

until the other end went dead before releasing a huge sigh. There was no telling if it was from relief or irritation. Oliver chucked his phone onto the passenger seat and eased his car back out onto the street, wary of the heavy foot traffic that tended to spill over into the roads. Chewing the edge of his thumb, he did his best not to gun the engine and smash into a few pedestrians. It might have helped his mood. Then again, he was already flirting with the wrong side of the law by working for Briony; the last thing he needed was anyone looking too closely at his after-school activities.
    His phone buzzed on the seat and Oliver swept it up, keeping one elbow balanced carefully on the steering wheel. It was Sabrina’s ringtone.
    Don’t tell me you have to cancel , he thought.
    “We finished early,” the text read, “meet u at CC’s.”
    That suited him fine, since the crosstown drive to grab them from the dojo and get back to CC’s was a pain. But from where he idled at a stop, it wasn’t far to the locals-only coffee joint on Esplanade. Finding parking was a nightmare, especially for a muscle car, one that didn’t exactly fit the sizing standards of the narrow old New Orleans streets. An honest-to-God thundercloud hovered over his head by the time he pushed open the door to the cafe and inhaled the bitter, exhilarating scent of fresh coffee grounds.
    That early in the morning and that frustrated, he could bathe in that smell .
    Oliver swung his keychain around his forefinger while he waited in line, eyes focused on nothing in particular. He knew what he wanted, but his mind kept drifting unhelpfully back to their impending obligations.
    From the start, Oliver had kept Sabrina out of it. She knew what he and Micah were up to, but only in the sparest sense. It was Micah who’d pulled him into it in the first place, some family connection through one of the kooky old swamp dogs related to his friend. At first it seemed like a joke. Dig up a few musty pocket watches for extra cash? Sure, count him in. It wasn’t all that different, after all, from what his own family did at their antique shop.
    He rolled his eyes at the thought. All right, that was pushing it. There were, of course, unethical people in the salvage and antiques world, but that wasn’t how the Berkleys operated. They didn’t steal, they didn’t swindle, and they certainly didn’t rob graves.
    God, but Oliver hated putting it that way.
    He just had to keep Sabrina out of it and hope that while she and Micah taught the kids classes at the dojo, Micah never spilled more than was appropriate.
    You’re robbing graves together for the Dragon Lady, none of this is appropriate.
    “How ya doing today?” Grace, the girl behind the counter, practically pierced his eardrum with her greeting. She beamed up at him, knuckles to the countertop, wiggling like she was at the start of a race.
    Nobody should ever be that cheerful at this hour. . . .
    “He’s grumpy, apparently, Grace, so you better make it a double shot Americano today.” Micah had crept up on him, clapping a hand roughly on Oliver’s back. He yelped and jumped, shooting Grace a sheepish smile. Damn karate-jiu-jitsu-ninja skills.
    “Yeah,” Oliver agreed. “What he said.”
    “The usual for you two cutie pies?” Grace asked, turning her same bright smile on Micah and Sabrina. They had changed out of their teaching clothes, but still looked like they had come from working out, Micah in a loose gray tee and track shorts, Sabrina in a Lycra sport top and sweatpants.
    “That’ll do nicely, Grace,” Micah said, turning on the charm. He matched her smile, leaning onto the counter by the register and winking. “When are you going to go out with me, Grace? It’s just not fair.”
    “Oh, you big fool, stop teasing.” Grace rolled her eyes, shaking her head of thick, red ringlets before passing their orders on to another barista. “Y’all been teaching this morning? Aren’t those kids in