Kat POV
'Take it easy' Hale hissed as I stumbled slightly, his strong arms around my waist.
'I'm fine Hale, honestly'
'No you aren't Kat' He stopped moving and turned me around 'You've just come back from a meeting with Interpol to bring down the magicians and probably the whole of the Swish autocracy will crumble after you've denounced your title as Lady Bishop of Geneva'
'Technically it is my birthright and I can claim the title back whenever I want'
'Really?' He lifted his eyebrow playfully. I shrugged.
'You never know when it might come in handy' I smiled
'I'll keep that in mind' Hale smiled back, leaning in and kissing me quickly.
'So we're good?' I asked
'We're amazing' Hale spun me around, leading me up the stone stairs leading to the townhouse I've come to love so much.
As soon as I walked through the doors, I was immediately engulfed by the smell of fresh bread.
'It's good to be home' I said aloud.
'Home?' Gabby smirked coming out of the room 'Did the Kat Bishop just call this place home?' I stuck my tongue out at her. She laughed
'You had a delivery by the way'
'Where is it?' I shrugged off my coat, and unwound my scarf.
'It was in the kitchen when we all got back from town' I stopped moving, I snapped my head to look at Gabby. She was no longer smiling either.
'Is that bad?' Hale asked. Gabby stopped looking at me and glared at Hale.
'It's a good thing that you're cute' She said.
'What she means is that someone got in here to leave a package'
'And it's not small' Gabby stepped forward jumping slightly 'Come on Kitty Kat, I'm dying to find out what it is' She didn't wait for my answer, she dragged me into the kitchen. Everyone was sitting around having fun, sharing fresh bread and dipping it into olive oil. To one side was a giant brown covering, held together by twine.
'It's a painting' Hale said simply.
'No shit Sherlock' Gabby quipped. I moved towards the painting, ignoring everyone else. There was a card placed where the twine linked. I moved it out.
Kat
Thank you for trying. The magicians will no longer bother you.
I'm returning this back to where it belongs
I knew who this was from before I even had to open it.
'What has Romani sent you?' My dad asked coming next to me, 'Or should I ask, what has he returned?'
'The Angel' I whispered
'What?' He asked, his eyes wide. I ripped the paper off. There it was, the painting that Romani stole from the Henley all those years ago. And finally it was mine.
The End
