the smuggler’s bible

Helena

They watch the fireworks from the terrace, sitting on a marble bench beside a sculpture of two cherubs playing a game of chess. Others spread out blankets on the lawn below.

“Your uncle has a wonderful property. Isn’t the view spectacular?”

Red and blue flashes wash over them. “Yes, it’s quite good,” Helena says. One of the cherubs, she suspects, is cheating. “Say, does something seem off about the—”

“Darling, leave it alone. It’s just a silly statue.”

“Right, of course.” Starbursts flicker overhead. Helena gasps. “I fuckin’ knew it,” she says. “That smirking bastard is playing with three bishops.”