Edging around the unsettling holes of the city’s storm drains, I sprinted until I reached the glass refuge by the bus stop. Wade ran up a moment later, his open jacket and shirt soaked through and his hair dripping. It was impossible not to stare at the ripple of lean muscles beneath the drenched fabric. My gaze jolted away as I realized I’d been staring a couple minutes too long, prompting a smirk to tug at his lips.
“I don’t mind you looking,” he said.
“I wasn’t,” I shot back. “I was just worried one of your nipples might put my eye out.”
A laugh erupted from the back of his throat, and I turned around, leading the way down the staircase toward the supposed public restroom. “Aperi Portam,” I muttered, then pushed through the door.
I didn’t think I’d ever get over the awe-inspiring gateway between the real world and this hidden underworld, which sat right on top of Waterfront Park, completely secret from the humans. Ahead lay the main “strip,” the whole place laid out like a mall, with impressive steel-and-glass cubes on either side, forming the pathway itself. Even though it was dark out, I could still see the fairytale glow of the city in the near distance, visible through the interdimensional windows that lined the far wall of every shop and bar and restaurant. Above us, the storm clouds continued to swell, like rising waves on a turbulent ocean.
“You know, we could’ve come in through the Maritime entrance,” Wade said, as our feet squelched on the smooth, pale gray floor.
I shot him a look. “Now you tell me?”
“I tried to before, but you’d already jumped out of the car.”
Ignoring him, I pressed on down the main path, peering into the shop windows and admiring the beautiful displays. Most of the stores were closed for the day, but the bars and cafés were just getting into full swing. We passed Moll Dyer’s, my eyes drawn to the pretty gold cursive letters that ran across the lintel. The Rag Team had taken me there during my first week at the coven, and the good memories rushed back as I admired the cute terrace. Passing the Black Crow, however, my thoughts turned suddenly to Finch—this tracer spell seemed to be giving me a nasty case of déjà vu.
Shrugging it off, I carried on walking, letting Wade take the lead. He appeared to know where we were going. However, halfway down one of the side paths, I almost skidded to a halt as my eyes found the familiar name of Cabot’s Esprit Reliquary. I remembered the promise I’d made to myself, to investigate the bracelet on Imogene’s forearm. If anyone knew about an object like that, it had to be Cabot.
“What’s up?” Wade asked, walking back toward me.
“Nothing, I just need to have a quick look in here,” I replied, stepping up to the door. I pushed on the handle, only to find it locked. The lights inside were dim, protection charms glowing faintly in the gloom.
“Looks like they’ve closed up for the day.”
I cast him a withering look while I moved away from the door and continued down the path. “You don’t say.”
“What did you want from there, anyway?” he asked.
“I just wanted to browse, see what they had. There’s a ton of cool things in there.” I stopped mid-step. “Where are we going, anyway? This is just a dead-end.” I gestured to a set of doors up ahead, an emergency exit sign glowing red above it.
“Haven’t you learned anything about magicals?” He kept on walking until he reached the emergency exit. Gripping the bar, he muttered something under his breath. A moment later, the bar gave way, the door opening onto a whole other section of Waterfront Park without setting off any kind of alarm. Puzzled, I followed him through.
There were no interdimensional windows here, only what appeared to be an empty maintenance room with a bunch of coolant pipes and six manhole covers in the ground. Dumpsters lined the back wall, a rotten aroma that made my nose wrinkle drifting off them.
“Dennehy’s World of Wonders,” Wade announced, pointing to one of the manhole covers.
“Sounds like a bad sideshow.”
He grinned. “Nope, but it’s the place we need. Come on.” He lifted the cover and held it open for me. Trying to ignore the still-wet fabric of his t-shirt, knowing it made me look like a total perv, I squeezed past him and clambered down into the dank space. A ladder led into the pitch-blackness below. Figuring that was where we were supposed to go, I began my descent.
Suddenly, the darkness dissipated. A wide platform sat below me, a bright light guiding me as I jumped off and landed with a thud on solid ground. Waiting for Wade, I walked over to the central balustrade and looked down. Vertigo hit me like a brick. I shouldn’t have done that. A spiral staircase twisted down the center of an impossibly tall room, bringing to mind the interior of a very weird, inverted lighthouse. Bright orbs in jeweled hues hung in clusters from every available space, each one glowing with rainbow light that cast a shard of color downward, creating a kaleidoscope of illumination. Balconies ran along the edge of every floor, while three or four doorways branched off from each level.
And absolutely everywhere—leaving me pretty freaking overwhelmed—was covered in boxes and cubbies and shelves, filled to bursting with weird and wonderful items.
A moment later, Wade joined me. He looked antsy, and I could feel the concern churning inside him. Well, well, well, it looks like Mr. Goody Two-Shoes is breaking some rules.
“We’re supposed to find cypress leaves, wolfsbane, and mercury in here? Don’t you have a grocery store for all this stuff?” I whispered, fearing a salesperson might suddenly pop out from one of the million boxes.
He nodded. “There is one in Waterfront Park, but they scan your ID when you buy it. It’ll show up on the coven logs, and I thought it would be best if nobody knew what we were up to.”
“Look at you, being a rebel for once.”
He scowled. “Can you not? I feel bad enough about it as it is.”
I chuckled and turned back to the immense space. “You realize we have to get this spell done pretty quick, right? I don’t have two years to go sifting through all this crap.”
He nodded. “Relax, there’s a knack to it. I’ve been here a few times before, to help out a couple of desperate friends.”
“You better have that knack, or I’m out of here,” I replied. “I’d rather sneak into the repository than look through every box in this place. Jeez, have you seen how far this goes?” I gazed right down to the bottom, feeling a bit sick at the thought of heading down there.
“I do, don’t worry.” He set off toward the wrought-iron staircase, the whole thing juddering under his weight. Well, isn’t that comforting?
I followed him down, glancing at as many objects as possible. It was pretty fascinating, once I got over the initial shock of seeing so much stuff piled everywhere. There were rooms and rooms full of it, the whole place crammed to the rafters. How anyone could find anything in here was beyond me, but I figured it was probably a good laugh to spend time in here, uncovering hidden gems.
On the fourth floor down, I paused in front of a small cubbyhole that had been cut into the wall of the shop. A single ring sat on a scarlet cushion inside it. Getting a closer look, I realized the ring resembled a claddagh—a symbolic ring, shaped like two hands holding a heart, with a crown on top. I’d heard about them a while ago and knew they were popular in Irish culture. This one was similar, though the heart was cut from a ruby, and instead of two hands, two arrows had been carved into the silver band.
A small label stood next to it: The Matchmaker. Point it at the one you love. If sparks fly, give them a try. If they do not, leave them to rot.
I couldn’t help myself—they’d put the energy into making a rhyme and everything. Reaching out for the ring, I slipped it onto my middle finger and admired it in the dancing light of the bazaar. The ruby was beautiful, the facets glinting this way and that.
“Harley, I found us some dried cypress leaves,” Wade said, brandishing a clear bag of withered foliage.
I turned in his direction, startled by his voice. Bef
ore I could say a word, a mini-explosion erupted from my middle finger, bright red sparks darting out of the ruby. Clamping my other hand over it in a vain attempt to stop the miniature fireworks display, I winced as the tiny sparks singed my palm.
“What was that?” Wade asked.
“Nothing!” Turning around, I tore off the ring and stuffed it back onto its cushion. I guess that answers that question.
“Seriously, what was that?” He stepped toward me, undeterred.
“Nothing, honestly.” Blushing furiously, I shoved him back down the stairs, praying he hadn’t gotten close enough to read the label. “Come on, we don’t have any time to waste on silly trinkets. We still have to find wolfsbane and mercury.”
As I trailed Wade down to the tenth floor—or negative tenth—of the lighthouse, a figure burst out of a doorway to the right, almost colliding with the two of us. She froze in an expression of panic, hurriedly putting her hands behind her back before Wade or I could see what she was buying. In the seconds that ticked by, a silent understanding passed between the three of us. If you’re out here, we already know you’re buying something you shouldn’t be. We’re in the same boat. If you don’t say anything, neither will we.
“Preceptor Bellmore, what an unexpected pleasure,” Wade said, breaking the tension.
“Yes… an unexpected pleasure,” she replied stiffly. Her big, peculiar amber eyes glanced over Wade’s shoulder, evidently looking for the exit. The tattoos on her neck and face shifted, revealing the nervous clench of her jaw. With her being a Shapeshifter, I couldn’t read her emotions, but I didn’t need to be an Empath to know she was keeping a secret—and a big one at that. It was written all over her face. I mean, come on, could you look any guiltier?
Weirdest of all was that fact that Preceptor Bellmore was normally coolheaded, walking around the coven in her black clothes and heavy leathers, with her chic blond buzzcut and her no-bull attitude. It was almost scary to see her so rattled. I hadn’t thought it possible, but something was definitely keeping her up at night. Judging from the bruised bags under Bellmore’s eyes, she hadn’t slept in days.
“What brings you out here to Dennehy’s World of Wonders?” Wade pressed.
She shrugged, regaining a sliver of composure. “Just a personal project. Preceptor Gracelyn was out of a couple of things, so I thought I’d pick them up here instead of waiting around for the order to come in. You know how it is.” She looked to Wade, as though he might understand.
“They didn’t have what you needed at the store?” Wade replied.
I stared at him. Playing with fire much? Pot… kettle… black?
“I needed something to go with the ingredients that the store didn’t have. I thought Dennehy’s might have it.” Her eyes held a warning. If we told, so would she.
I frowned. “Are you okay, Preceptor? I don’t mean to be blunt, or rude, but you don’t look too peachy.”
“I’m a little stressed over the newly implemented charms that Alton wants put all around the coven, but that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle, don’t you worry,” she said coolly. “How about you? How are you feeling?”
“The same.”
“Anything I can help you with?” she asked, nodding to the bag of greenery that Wade clutched in his hand. It had other leaves aside from cypress—a kind of foliage free-for-all—which I hoped would put her off the scent.
I shook my head. “Just a bit of research into building a basic dreamcatcher. It seems pretty straightforward. Nothing too tricky.”
Sloane Bellmore was a preceptor, but that didn’t mean we could trust her. I had no way of knowing whether Alton had told the preceptors about finding Jacob and Isadora, and I wasn’t about to risk a security breach. Plus, with her being a Shapeshifter, I couldn’t read her to try and figure out if she was trustworthy or not. For now, we’d have to accept that we were lying to each other.
“Well, good luck with that. I really ought to be getting back to the coven.” She paused, arching an eyebrow. “You two should probably think about doing the same. With the threat of Katherine looming over all of us, Alton is tightening security. I wouldn’t be surprised if he puts a curfew in place soon enough.”
“Thank you, Preceptor Bellmore,” Wade said. “I hope everything goes well with… whatever your personal project is.”
Without another word, she hurried up the lighthouse stairs and disappeared into a room at the top. A few minutes later, she reemerged, making her way out of the shop by climbing up through the manhole tunnel, with a small paper bag tucked under one arm.
“Weird,” I muttered.
“Very weird.”
“Anyway, we should probably get our stuff and go.”
Wade nodded. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you back upstairs. It’ll probably be easier if I grab everything we need.”
“Agreed.” As he continued down the spiral staircase, I turned around and hurried back up.
Ten minutes later, we were headed up the rickety ladder with a parcel full of wolfsbane root, dried cypress leaves, and a new vial of mercury. Making our way back through the dingy maintenance room, we passed a few shady-looking characters lurking in the shadows of the coolant pipes. There were no words written on any of the manhole covers and no labels to indicate what any of the other places were, but my interest was piqued.
“What’s down the other holes?” I asked, as we made our way back through into the main body of Waterfront Park. This time, I let Wade lead us toward the Maritime Museum exit, rather than taking the long way around and risking a second soaking.
“A casino, a couple of dive bars, another shop that sells contraband,” he replied. “I wouldn’t advise going there again, unless you really need something without the preceptors or Alton knowing about it. Which you shouldn’t really be doing anyway—neither should I, for that matter, but this is an exceptional set of circumstances. A whatever-means-necessary sort of deal.” I could tell he was trying to talk himself out of his guilt. It swirled in his stomach, making him pale.
I flashed him a smile. “Noted.”
Exiting the doorway that led straight out into the Maritime Museum’s parking lot, we sprinted the last couple yards to Wade’s Jeep and hopped in with barely a drenching. I set the box on my lap and pulled my seatbelt across my chest as we pulled out of the parking lot and merged onto the main road.
I turned the heat on full blast and glanced at Wade. “For your nipples.”
He laughed shyly. “They thank you for your kind gesture.”
“Don’t mention it.”
In a curious bubble of contentment, with the rain lashing down against the car, we headed for the coven, and the spell that would hopefully lead us to Jacob and Isadora.
Back in the familiarity of the Luis Paoletti Room, Wade and I gathered around one of the small tables with our ingredients spread out across the splintering surface. My heart thundered in my chest as Wade delved into one of the bottom drawers and pulled out his trusty wooden bowl and kitchen scale. When performing this particular spell, everything had to be exact. A single gram off, and the whole thing could explode… quite literally.
“Are you sure the last email you got from Jacob hinted that they were still in California?” Wade asked. “If not, we’re in for a hell of a night.”
I nodded. “They’re definitely somewhere in California. The emails are never detailed, but I can get bits and pieces from them.”
“Okay then. You ready?”
“Yep, I’m warmed up and ready to run like hell, or drive like the devil, when that spark goes off.”
He smiled. “Me, too.”
“Okay, so we need twenty grams of diamond powder and thirteen of the jasper,” I said. Silently, he weighed out what remained from last time, before tipping the correct amounts into the wooden bowl using a silver spoon. The sparkling powders merged, white and yellow, creating a sandy mixture at the bottom of the bowl.
“Do you remember why we only use silver spoons for mixing i
ngredients?” he asked.
I frowned. “Ah, I know this one… something to do with binding agents? They act like binding agents, to avoid bad stuff happening?”
“More or less,” he said, chuckling. “Now, how many cypress leaves?”
“Three.” Plucking three from the mixed bag, he dropped them into the bowl. They were already dried, needing no help from his Fire power. “And then, five drops of mercury and nine drops of venom.”
“Five drops of mercury and nine drops of venom,” Wade muttered back to himself.
Using a pipette, he measured the exact ingredients and added them to the mixture. He glanced at the waxy scroll and picked up the silver spoon, using it to stir the ingredients three times counter-clockwise, then five times clockwise. As he made the movements, my memories of the last tracer spell came rushing back. Finch was becoming a frequent fixture in my head these days, and I didn’t like it. He refused to speak about his mother, the brainwashing running deep, but unless he could give us some kind of info on her, he was of no use whatsoever. I just have to break you… make you see what a monster she is. But how?
“Harley?” Wade’s voice broke my distant train of thought.
“Sorry, what’s next?”
He pointed to the bracelet. “I’m going to put the bracelet on top of the mixture and then cover it with three spoonfuls of the stuff, moving the spoon from the left. I’ll chant the spell once it’s covered.”
“Okay, I’ll be ready.”
He took in a breath, before covering the bracelet with the concoction. “O, filia luna, cum venenum sanguinem, da mihi oculos, sic ego can reperio dominus hoc obiectum,” he chanted, his rings lighting up red.
As I stared into the bowl, the shimmer of the mixture intensified, spreading out until it enveloped the bracelet entirely. The rest of the ingredients dissolved into a subtle, rusty-red mass, while the bracelet lay below, as clean as it had been when we’d put it in there. Finch’s spark had been green, but this one was copper in color. What does that mean? I wondered as I braced my legs to sprint.
Harley Merlin 3: Harley Merlin and the Stolen Magicals Page 10
