To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,1

struggling with it.” He smiled with a surprising degree of warmth. “She was an extraordinary woman.”

Hal made a face and returned to her drawing, looking for the error she would need to correct. “Some would say that, yes. I doubt you will hear my brother or myself say any such thing.”

“You don’t know what she was involved in,” Weaver warned with some firmness. “You don’t know the details.”

“And despite our asking, those questions have yet to produce any sort of satisfactory answer.” She glanced over at him with a pointed look.

He met it without shame. “You both know why. Your father knew why.”

Hal nodded and plastered a false smile on her face. “I have no doubt Father knew more than we ever did. I understand the secrecy, Weaver, having lived my entire life with it, but to have never known one’s mother in truth is particularly cruel.”

“She was every bit as you knew her,” Weaver assured her with more gentleness than she had ever heard from him. “I can promise you that.”

“But where did her loyalty lie?” Hal murmured, shocking herself with the pain that she felt suddenly rising to the surface. She cleared her throat quickly and set the sketch aside entirely. “It doesn’t matter. My memories of her are limited as it is, and I likely cannot trust a memory from childhood to be accurate.”

Weaver made a soft, noncommittal sound. “I think you could trust your memory from the moment you were born, my dear.”

She only shrugged and folded her legs up beneath her. “You said this was business. As you are here yourself, may I assume this is not tied to the League? Or, indeed, to any particular office?”

“You may,” he confirmed as he straightened in his chair. “What I have… what we need transcends any group or mission.”

Hal’s brows shot up at that. She had never been approached with such a severe tone, or with such a prospect. She was a well-known and well-used asset to every office with covert operations, had participated in meetings and debriefings with some of the most dangerous individuals Britain could boast, and even some from other shores. She would have been an operative herself had she any skill with combat and self-defense, but she had made herself useful regardless.

Everything from the Shopkeepers, the highest officers in covert operations, had specific responsibilities and missions. Everything she ever did for them was strategically assigned. To have an assignment without any of that was unusual, if not unheard of.

“Trick?” she asked with some alarm, her thoughts instantly shifting to her brother, her twin, who was presently undercover yet again, so much so that he wasn’t able to even write. He was nearly always on a mission, but he was usually able to send her word with some regularity.

Not this time.

Not this mission.

Weaver shook his head firmly, allowing himself to smile. “No, he is well, as of his last reporting. Quite well, as it happens.”

Hal breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Hunter wasn’t reckless or careless, but he did tend to get himself into quite a bit of danger, which never got easier for her. She seldom knew the details of his missions, which was for the best, but every now and then, she could figure a thing or two out.

The world thought he was a hopeless reprobate who had ruined the family and their legacy, not to mention any chances for a good match for his sister; the truth was anything but.

Neither Hal nor Hunter cared. Their lives had been upended with the death of both parents in the space of two years just as Hunter had been sent away to school. They had no family but each other, and there wasn’t much they cared for other than that.

Apart from England herself.

“So what is it, then?” Hal inquired, once her heart had settled back into its place. “Forgeries? Maps? Composite sketches? I’ve gotten quite good at certificates of death, if any of those are needed.”

“I feel more like a criminal every time I visit you,” Weaver grumbled good-naturedly. “No to all of that. This is something quite particular, and yet incredibly vague.”

Hal frowned at him. “That doesn’t make any sense to me, Weaver.”

His sheepish look worried her. “It will in a minute.” He sobered, then exhaled. “We need you to come on assignment. As an agent, not only an asset.”

“Out in the field?” Hal blinked and shook her head. “I’m not qualified for the field, Weaver. I have no doubt you have seen