Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts #8) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Seven Forbidden Arts Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
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The owner smiled when she entered. “Back for more browsing?”

“Shopping, actually.”

“You finally got the money?”

She pushed the pile of bills over the counter. “Yes.”

After counting the money, the shop owner reached inside a cupboard and placed a box on the counter. “You remember how it works?”

“Perfectly.”

“Make sure the phone is charged, or you’ll lose the signal.”

“Thank you.”

“Good luck,” he called as she dropped the box in her sling bag and started walking up the street in search of another taxi.

Making it back to the Red Light District fifteen minutes before eight, she instructed the taxi driver to drop her two blocks from the club. The rest of the way, she made on foot, just in case.

At that hour, Doumar would be in the front, overseeing the girls’ shift change. In the bathroom, she closed herself in a toilet stall and removed the new mobile phone from the packaging with shaking hands. After switching it on and activating the tracker like the shop owner had showed her, she ran the test to ensure it functioned.

Certain that the bathroom was deserted, she slipped the phone into her pocket and checked the corridor before going back to the reading room. There, she plugged the phone into the charger to make sure the battery would last and covered it with her jacket, praying no one would discover it. A quick glance at the wall clock told her she had five minutes.

She walked to Doumar’s office on shaky legs and knocked. When there was no reply, she entered and went straight for his coat on the jacket stand. Fumbling with the lapel, she tried to pin the chip underneath, but her fingers shook too much. It took two attempts before the clip was secured. She had scarcely smoothed the lapel down when the door opened.

Doumar paused in the frame, looking at her with a narrowed gaze. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Brushing down your coat,” she said with a shrug. “Are you ready? We can’t be late.”

He slammed the door. “Where were you?”

“I went out for a coffee.” She gave him her sweetest smile. “Didn’t the doorman tell you?”

“You don’t go anywhere without permission, do you understand?”

“Sure. Sorry, I needed to clear my head. It won’t happen again.” She took his coat from the hook and held it out to him. “Shall we go?”

He eyed her outfit. “Not like that. Go change. You have two minutes.”

She draped the coat over his arm, aware of his gaze burning on her back as she walked to the changing room. She didn’t breathe until the door was closed behind her. Only then did she drag in a shaky breath. In less than a minute, she’d pulled on the drum majorette dress and white boots Doumar had provided, and before her time was up, she’d dropped the phone from the reading room in her bag and was waiting by the exit.

Doumar gave her a nod of approval when he arrived, his coat already donned. In the parking, they took his car.

“Where is our meeting?” she asked.

Doumar didn’t answer. He only gave her a sly smile.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the empty lot of an abandoned factory. Sky shivered when Doumar ushered her inside the building with a hand on her back. A single bulb lit the open space. Godfrey sat behind a desk in the circle of light, his men standing around him.

Doumar’s attitude was cocky, but Sky knew him well enough to recognize the cautious hesitation in his step.

“Miss Val,” Godfrey said, ignoring Doumar. “Come closer.”

Doumar paused at the edge of the light while she walked to the desk with more bravado than she felt.

“This,” Godfrey pushed a watch toward her, “is a wrist pad. My technician will show you how to copy the chip.”

He flicked his fingers at one of the men who stepped up with a ballpoint pen.

“Look closely,” Godfrey instructed as the man pushed on the end of the pen to eject a screwdriver tip.

A button on the side of the pen initialized an automated turning action. After unscrewing a tiny screw on each corner of the watch, he carefully lifted the face and commenced a demonstration on how to remove the chip and copy it by inserting it into a plastic tray attached to the retractable lid of the pen.

“There’s nothing to it,” Godfrey said, “except that you have to insert a dummy chip at the same time you’re removing the real chip or the device will register the tampering and alert the control center. If interference is detected, the device will detonate, sending you and anyone else in a two-meter radius to hell. The dummy chip is located in the tip of the pen. You can easily unscrew it. Got it?”

“Yes.” Her voice was steady, but she felt anything but that as she accepted the pen and dropped it in her bag.



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