Pandora didn’t really know how she felt about the objects in the collection. None of it bore any significance to her. Other than the Marquis de Sade, none of the names meant anything – Laveau, Grandier. Why would someone pay money to preserve and own a piece of bone belonging to a man who had been dead for three hundred years? Why would someone keep a piece of lovely silk cloth shut inside a box with a hideous creature carved on top? Other than knowing her birth sign was Pisces, she knew virtually nothing about the occult. Maybe it was best that way.
“I guess I’ll turn in as well,” she said.
Tristan made a disgusted sound with his mouth.
Pandora smiled weakly. “There’s nothing else to do. Besides, I’m exhausted. I don’t know how all of you managed to shovel all that booze and drugs inside your body all day.”