by E Hall
“We can’t rely on maybes to save lives.” I hold my head in my hands. We’re lost. Sunk. Taking too much time to translate dragon and look for clues.
“Then what can you rely on?” Alister asks.
I get to my feet at the sound of the kettle.
“We can rely on each other,” Corbin says, entering the room from the garage. He must’ve been out for a run. “We know the scepter has three aspects represented by the jewels and possibly friendship, loyalty, and love.”
“And it doesn’t abide by its contrasting complements: control, persistence, and the last one, well, it’s trickier to interpret. The closest I can come to for a translation is cunning or trickery,” Pepper says, yawning from the other end of the room.
“Good morning, miss,” Alister says pleasantly.
“Morning.” Pepper’s smile is thin. “I realized that without the stones, anyone can use the scepter for ill. There’s this symbol.” She points to the book. “I think it means intention, as in the person’s intention in possession of the scepter helps determine its power.”
“And if we bring together love, loyalty, and friendship...” Corbin says.
Pepper beams a smile. “Then no matter what the intention, the scepter can only be used for those reasons. Not for curses, storms, destruction…”
“Or controlling the lives of magicals. Why does Melchior veer toward the dark side?” I ask, for lack of a better word.
“It’s not worthwhile to try to understand it. Better to focus on what’s in front of us,” Corbin says.
I nod. “You’re right. It’s strange. It’s almost like the scepter doesn’t want to be found. Alister, you found it before. Any tips?”
“Patience.” Alister sets out the muffins.
Pepper helps herself to one and slathers it with butter, seemingly unfazed by the fact a ghost made them.
“You’re catching on to this magical life quickly.”
“My dragon assures me it’s okay. I feel her growing inside of me.” She swallows thickly. “I see myself growing into her.” She pulls her sleeve up to reveal a shimmering scale by her elbow.
It’s my turn to say, “Wow.”
“It’s almost like the more I acknowledge this world the more fully I inhabit it.” Pepper takes a bite.
I relay how I feel more fully wolf around the shifters and more in touch with my fae when around the fae.
“And vampires?”
“Let’s not talk about that.” I shudder at the memory of my short-lived thirst for blood.
We return to the secret room and get back to work, translating as far as we can in the book.
“We need the final Jewel. Where is it?” I say out loud, doubtful I’ll receive an answer. I slouch against the wall. My shoulders lift and lower on a sigh when one doesn’t come.
A slight breeze rolls over my skin. Except for the stained glass, there aren’t any windows in here, but I guess that doesn’t keep this room from being drafty. When I look up, the pages on the diary ruffle slightly. I brace myself for another round of fae song.
When it doesn’t come, but the slight breeze continues, I open my palm, feeling the air movement from low on the wall in the corner.
Corbin’s gaze trails me as I crouch down. The air comes from a small door made out of ornate black metal like an old-fashioned heating grate.
“Is this a keyhole?” I run my fingers over the metal.
Corbin appears with the key, and I take it. I wince at the slight burn of iron, but thankfully, I’m leaning strongly toward my wolf right now.
I slide the key in the lock. It clicks. I pull the grate open and peer into a crawl space. “I guess the question is what’s behind door number two?”
Chapter 18
Corbin
Pepper shines the light of her phone through the opening Kenna discovered. It’s wide enough for a person to crawl through, but I’ll be hard-pressed with my broad shoulders.
“See anything other than cobwebs?” Kenna asks.
“It’s hard to say. It’s a long shaft, like from an old elevator but not nearly as big.” Pepper pulls her head out, and it’s dusted white.
I snap my fingers. “Or a dumbwaiter.”
“A what now?” Kenna asks.
“In old houses, like this one, the butler or staff would send a tray of food or sometimes other items up to another room using a shelf, rope, and pulley system so they didn’t have to carry it up and down the stairs and risk spilling.”
“So it would start in the kitchen?” Kenna asks.
“Most likely. I imagine it connects multiple floors.
“Glad your centuries-old knowledge holds up.” Kenna sounds amused.
I grin. “You want to be on my team for trivia night back at Headquarters. I crush the competition.”
Kenna nudges me with her shoulder then takes the phone and peeks through the small door. “I also see a rope and a plank.”
“Like I said, for the pulley system, but I’m not sure about the plank.”
Kenna practically hangs through the hole in the wall. “I think it leads to another door on the opposite side.”
Pepper cringes. “I’m more of a feet on the ground puzzle solver not a crawl through spider webs explorer.”
I almost laugh. “You found the key, that’s helpful.”
“Do you think my dad knew about this?” Kenna’s voice echoes.
“Considering the key was in this room, I’d say so.” I take a turn, poking my head through the hole and using my keen wolf vision to measure of what’s hidden here.
“I’m betting it has something to do with the Wolf Jewel, considering the carving,” Pepper says smartly.
After reaching for the dangling rope, I give it a strong tug. “It looks like the two choices are up or across. Also there’s another keyhole on the other door.”
“Let’s start with across since that seems the most dangerous,” Kenna says.
“I don’t think she’s kidding,” I say. “But I’ll go first, Alpha order.”
Pepper balks. “How about I be lookout?”
I crawl onto the wooden plank. Balancing, the old wood creaks under my weight, but I manage to cross to the other door.
I fit the key in the lock, telling myself not to look down. The wooden door sticks from disuse but I elbow it open. I slide through and drop with a loud thud. I get to my feet, having managed not to break anything, including my head or an ankle.
“It’s pitch black in here so bring the phone. Also, don’t look down.”
“Anything else, Indiana Jones?” Kenna asks.
“Not a thing, sweetheart,” I say in my best imitation.
“Ha ha,” she says dryly.
The wood creaks as she moves through the narrow shaft. Pepper’s phone light beams, illuminating cobwebs.
“This space is stuffy and smells like dust.” Kenna sneezes then pokes her head through the small doorway. I can see her faintly thanks to my wolf vision.
“I’m holding my arms out because there’s a drop. Lower yourself until your hands are on my shoulders, and I’ll keep you from falling. Speaking from experience.”
“Was that the loud thud I heard?” she asks.
I grunt.
Kenna grips my shoulders and eases through. She hugs me like a koala, wrapping her legs around my middle. I inhale her wolfy, cherry scent, breathing deep. She slides down my chest, and I hold her suspended before her feet touch the ground.
In the low light, I find her lips and give her a soft kiss.
“Is that in case we don’t make it?” she asks.
“Oh, we’ll make it, and I’ll take at least one of those a day for the rest of time.” I give her another kiss and then wrap my hand around hers.
The phone light shines, illuminating a hallway that’s tunnel-like with cobblestone walls. Cobwebs fill the corners and drops of water gather on the damp ceiling. The wooden floor splinters and heaves like we’re on a ship. An iron gate much like the little door blisters and r
usts, barring the way forward.
“Do you think this is to keep fae out?” Kenna asks, tapping the metal as though testing whether it’ll hurt her. She shrugs. “Maybe dual magicals are immune.”
“But Clove threw the key like it was hurting him.”
“I’d like to hurt him,” Kenna growls.
Then the feeling is mutual. But I don’t want to rub it in so I keep the I told you not to trust him lecture to myself.
“I can’t help but imagine my father here with us, telling us that we’re on the right track. I don’t understand it, but I share a connection with him.”
“I guess the question is what track are we on?” My senses attune to the surroundings.
“Scavenger hunt...to save the world.” She runs her hand along the wall. “It looks like there is a carving here.”
I shine the light on the wall to illuminate the flowing hair of a woman shifting into a dragon. “Pepper ought to see this.”
“Take a video with her phone. If she wants to see it in person she can, but she seemed a bit nervous. This is all new to her.”
I turn on the video and continue walking. The carving reveals the dragon on top of a mountain with a prominent peak. “Montmartres,” I mutter.
“And the scepter,” Kenna adds.
The scepter with the three glowing gems rests at the very top of the mountain with the dragon sitting just below as though keeping guard. Symbols like the ones from the book fill the other side. I film them too.
Kenna continues a few paces ahead of me and then stops. “I feel like we’re going down.”
“Remember what I said about sub-basements?” I ask, recalling our first visit here. Apparently, I was right about that too.
Kenna runs her hand along the wall that turns back to stone. “What was my father thinking?”
“Whatever he brought down here he didn’t want anyone to find.”
“Except me,” Kenna breathes.
“Seems that way.” She peers into the dark. “There’s no telling what he knew or what he was doing.”
I trail Kenna, wishing we could travel back in time to a few months ago or eighteen years ago, or nearly two-hundred years ago and sit with Greyson or Isa or Lila and get the full, real story.
“Look. Another door,” Kenna says when we come to the end of the tunnel.
Her eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of exploration. She slides the key into the third door and slips through.
“Be careful. It’s damp down here. The wooden floor might be—” I say, recalling my fall after crossing the dumbwaiter shaft.
A loud splintering noise matches Kenna’s holler. Then she says, “—rotten.”
I shine the light through the entryway. She pulls her foot through a hole in the floor and brushes off her pant leg. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” She leans against the stone wall, regaining her equilibrium.
I tell her about how I used to explore mountains and caves when I was a kid. If I could travel back in time and tell my younger self that I’d be doing this with my fated mate, would I be excited or scared? My lips snag a smile. Both. I wouldn’t have hesitated, but charged forward, unflinchingly, with purpose, and saved the day.
Kenna’s voice reels me back to the present. “I wish I knew about magic when I was little. Instead, I had a small park with rusty playground equipment behind our apartment. As you can imagine, it was loads of fun,” she says without humor.
“Just think though, if it were different, you wouldn’t be struck with so much awe and curiosity now.”
“Or fear and anxiety,” she mumbles.
I beam the phone’s light in this new section of the long passageway before entering what looks like a study. A desk, chair, and several shelves line the wall. The wood, once polished and sleek, is dull and mildewed. A lantern, a few candles, some empty glass bottles, and lots of dust fill the shelves. A small, round window made out of stained glass in gold and orange catches the light. The room whispers with time long-since passed.
“Do you suppose this was my father’s secret chamber or something?” Kenna absently traces the letters of her name on the surface of a dusty table. To Kenna she adds the words was here.
“A secret room and a secret chamber. My, my Greyson,” I say. “Maybe he hid out when the Council first started looking for him.”
“Or where he hid from Jana and the fae then created the Klave. I wish I’d learned more. Had a chance to really talk to him. To ask questions, hear answers, and—” Her face falls. “Have a dad. My mom was more than enough, but having met him even briefly makes me feel like I missed out.”
I know what she means having never really known my mom.
“This window here reminds me of a porthole-like on an old ship but made of stained glass.” Kenna takes the cell phone from me and sweeps the flashlight around the room. “It’s like we’re inside the captain’s quarters of an old ship.”
“Been on many of those?”
“Not many, Mister Dumbwaiter. Just one,” she says, playfully swatting me. “In New Hampshire, where we lived, several historic ships docked in the harbor. Freshman year of high school, I had to do a report on local history. I visited an old sloop as part of my research.”
“Except we’re underground. At least I think so. Even in the magical world, ships don’t sail through the earth.” Invisible fingers pinch my skin into tiny bumps. I don’t dare tell Kenna this place gives me the creeps.
“No, but they might contain buried treasure.” Her voice is soft.
She pauses in front of a painting of a ship far out on a raging sea. Its tattered sails stream in the wind. For a moment, it’s like the waves and sails blur, moving in the wind.
“Remember in Bahia Magia, what you said about ghost ships?”
I nod. “Sailed by ghost pirates patrolling the oceans, searching for elusive treasure, and hoping that if they add one more member to their crew, they’ll find what they’re looking for. They never do. They’re cursed to sail the sea on an endless hunt.” My stomach forms knots just like it did when we were searching for Greyson along the coast.
“My father was among those ships when I sensed him, when he came through the veil.”
“And you almost drowned.” I didn’t like it there and hate the idea of anything happening to her now or ever.
“Lila said he traded with the ghost pirates. What if he’s back on their ship? What if he’s not gone?”
Not having Greyson to turn to for answers must eat Kenna up inside. Desperation is a slippery slope and tangling with the ghost pirates is the slickest. I press my hand to the small of her back, guiding her away from thoughts about ghost pirates and to the next room.
“Check this out,” Kenna says, jiggling a chain as thick as my wrist. The links stretch through a hatch. She pokes her head inside, glances back at me, shrugs, and then crawls through it.
I crouch, peering into a darkened room.
“What’s in there?” I ask, illuminating the space by the light of the phone.
She crouches beside a chest just like the ones that contained the puzzle cubes. “I think we just found treasure.”
“Do you think it’s the—?” I don’t finish the sentence as I climb through.
Pits dot the tarnished metal fastening the wood chest. Kenna points. “Doesn’t that look like one of the symbols in the book Pepper was reading?”
Kenna nods. “She’s probably getting worried. We should hurry.” She grips the key and slides it in the lock. Like the doors before, it clicks.
I lift the lid, but the chest is empty.
Chapter 19
Kenna
I stare into the empty chest and stare...and stare. “Where is it?” Asking is futile, but the heaviness of failure presses against me. The claustrophobia-inducing location within or below Lonsdale—wherever we are—doesn’t help.
“We tried,” Corbin says, taking my hand.
I think back to those last times that seemed so monumental back in the spring—my
last day of high school, my last day knowing the normal world existed parallel to the magical. I’d give almost anything to have my normal life back. Almost anything. The things I now know have forevermore altered my definition of normal.
Normal was working at the doughnut shop, stuffing my backpack full of library books and reading all weekend, and Mom dragging me out of bed to watch the sunrise when I’d stayed up way too late because I had to read one more chapter...that turned into two, three...four.
Normal was, despite my general dislike, going to school every day, hanging with my friends in the afternoon, and trying a new recipe or just eating cereal for dinner. Then doing it all over again the next day—the only difference being the meal or the weather or my outfit.
But maybe normal never was, not with a mother who’s a vampire, my father the descendant of a king greedy for revenge, and me, who only ever wanted to be part of a family.
The images of Andi’s parents and siblings gathered around the table, the camping trips they let me tag along on, and the fact that there was always a brother or sister around, drops me into a familiar void. Loneliness was never on the menu in her household. I craved togetherness and connection. Longed for it. Still do. But on the brink of failure, where does it all leave me?
Lila asked me to look at the kind of future I want. Isa said I’d have to make a choice.
Does that mean fighting for the freedom of magicals from Melchior’s tyranny or just giving in and being with him? Would that make things right? If I agreed to be the fae queen, would he leave everyone else alone? Do I hold onto Corbin with all my might or accept the genuine possibility that we won’t be able to fix this?
I don’t know. And not knowing doesn’t just suck, it drains me, paralyzes, freezes me right here in this dank room. But how can I decide? And are those even choices for me to make?
“Kenna, come on. Let’s head back.” Corbin’s voice floats to me, drawing me back to the moment.
“Wait. We should look in here. Maybe there’s another key, another box. It must be somewhere.”
