Guardians

Chapter 13: "Mission Impossible?"

The rest of the afternoon was spent preparing for our "mission." It was not a very well-known museum, so security was pretty lax. We decided our route through the museum by actually visiting it. Thanks to Kari's supposed "charm and wit" as she called it, we discovered that the only security we would have to face were cameras, alarms on specific display cases, locked doors, and two old men who acted as guards. They really didn't have any reason for anything more; none of it looked like it was worth very much. We headed towards some more cases on the second level when Kari suddenly ran forward and grabbed something.

"It's my feather!" she cried, holding up a long beautiful tail feather.

"The one that belonged to your grandmother?" my friend asked to make sure, and Kari nodded in response. We reached the case that she had found the feather on, and my eyes suddenly spotted the words we had been searching for.

"Hey, look at this," I informed everyone. We all looked down at the artifact that my friend and I were supposed to take that night.

"That's it?!" exclaimed Kari. "That's what you two are going to risk life and limb for? You know, it figures that the Brethren would want this piece of junk." That comment summed it up for all those present. The "ancient artifact" was nothing more than a rusty, beaten-up sword. I could barely see the dull metallic sheen underneath the corrosion. The blade was double-edged, but it was chipped and wearing thin in some places. The leather-bound hilt was chewed, ripped, and falling apart. The sword, if it could really be called one, looked like it hadn't been touched or taken care of for hundreds of years. When Kari started to read the card next to it, I stopped to listen.

"The Galleon Sword," Kari introduced. "This blade was found in the basement of this building. Many attempts were made to identify and clean the sword, but there were no results. The way the reader sees the sword now is the same way that we, the curators of the Museum of English History, have found the blade. The sword was named for the first curator of this museum, Mr. John P. Galleon. Discovered by Peter M. McCollugh, janitor, in 1952." After she had finished we started to snicker.

"A janitor?" I giggled quietly.

"Apparently they discovered it among some other junk," my friend smiled. "The sign over there says that this whole exhibit is being removed due to lack of funding. Good riddance, too, they were probably thinking!"

"Look how this 'sword' is hidden by the other things in the case," Lupin remarked. "They probably wouldn't even miss it if it went missing."

"Question is: why would the Brethren want it?"

Kari's question stumped us all. I was only pulled away from my thoughts when I realized that everyone else was starting to walk away. I took one last look at the broken sword, wondering, and turned away.

I checked through my backpack one last time before we would have to go inside. I held the flashlight deep inside the bag so we wouldn't attract attention.

"Flashlight, rope, wand, gum... Gum? What's that doing in here?" I whispered.

"Kari thought we might need it," my friend said quietly and shrugged.

"I think we've got everything," I concluded. "Are you ready?" He nodded, and I watched his face as he dropped into the Othersight. The only evidence of any change was in his eyes: they flashed silver before changing back into a metallic shade of his normal brown. I felt the air around me being shaped by an invisible hand. We had decided beforehand that he would use the Othersight to shroud ourselves in darkness. To the normal eye we would be wraiths of the night. I put up the hood to my black robes, and I was now shapeless as well. Towards the back entrance we tiptoed silently. It hadn't taken long before the dimly lit doorway barred our path. Taking off the darkness temporarily, my friend concentrated on something else. Slowly, but surely, the form of a cat began to take shape on the steps.

"Here we go," I breathed as I scratched the door to imitate claws. I simultaneously mewed softly for an added effect. It didn't take long before one of the guards unlocked and opened the door.

"Hello, my little friend," he said smiling as he saw the tiny cat on the doorstep. "Are you lost? Hungry?" As he moved to pick up the cat, my friend made the form shy away from his outstretched hands. This was the most dangerous part; he had to control the cat and shield us from view at the same time.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the guard called out lightly as the cat seemed to skip down the steps in fright. The guard followed the cat down, and we took our chance then. We quickly flew past him into the black of the doorway, but the guard spun around in alarm. Holding my breath I prayed that the darkness would shield us from view. To our relief he turned away, only to find that the cat had disappeared as well.

"Perhaps it was frightened as well," the elderly guard said to himself. Shrinking ourselves against the wall, we waited as the guard passed by, who was most likely wondering where the kitten had gone to.