I yawned, fidgeted and occasionally twitched when I thought I heard Marie nearby, but no one else was ever there. My head was propped on my left hand, my right hand turned the pages, and my eyes glazed over. Focusing on the words became difficult.
So thank dragons the book contained interesting illustrations, one of which was a fancy key.
I inhaled sharply and sat up. With a white-gloved hand, I traced my finger over the difficult-to-decipher English. Best as I could tell, the author was merely reciting things about the fury prison we already knew, but at last I discovered a small paragraph with something useful.
I read through it several times, wishing I had an English-to-English dictionary for help, but I thought I caught the gist. Surely Tom or someone else here was more fluent in sixteenth-century verbiage and could translate.
The book had several silk bookmarks attached, so I used one to mark the page and hurried into the research room. It must have been about lunchtime because Umut was gone, and Marie was getting ready to leave.
“Is Tom still in his meeting?”
“I think so, yes.” She beckoned me forward. “You want to come to lunch?”
My stomach growled. “Yeah, sure.”
I’d learned the hard way that light breakfasts plus skipping lunch and a long time until dinner did not improve my research skills or my mood. The book would have to wait.
The upside of getting food was that Tom had returned to the archives before we did, and I practically dragged him out of his chair when we got back. “I found something, but I’m not one hundred percent positive I’m translating it right.”
He bounded after me into the archive while Umut looked on in amusement. “Why aren’t you sure?”
“Well, the English is painful, and it doesn’t make much sense. But it means Olef was on to something.” I led Tom to the book and pointed to the passage. “It sounds like the people who created the Pit needed to make some kind of key as part of the spell, along with the Vessels. But the key could then be used to unlock the prison. Since no one wanted that obviously, they tossed the key into the prison when they sealed it so it could never be unlocked from the outside.”
Tom’s brow furrowed in concentration as he read, and he flipped the page a couple times as if hoping more text would appear. None did—I’d already checked. “That’s my read of it too,” he said after a couple minutes. “This part right here explains the key can’t be used from the inside.”
I grabbed the back of a chair, my blood racing. “So whatever Olef was on to means something. But it also doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?” He checked the book’s covers.
“Because he wrote ‘Jess use key’. How can I use a key locked inside a prison we’re trying to stop from being opened, and why would I?”
Unless, that was, Olef had known more that we’d never learned. What if he hadn’t merely had visions of cities burning but also of the prison opening? I shivered and declined to mention this idea.
If Tom had the same one, he also kept the gloomy possibility to himself. “Are there any other mentions of the key?”
“In this book? No clue. This is as far as I got. I searched the rest of the chapter, but then I ended up going to lunch.”
Tom pulled a slip of paper from the table and jotted down information about the book, including the author’s name. “We can see if he wrote anything else, but you should finish. These older scholars weren’t always the most organized. There could be more in some of the later chapters.”
I tried to suppress my groan but apparently failed given the way Tom glared at me. “What? I thought you had me training to be a warrior, not a researcher.”
“It’s true, although this was your idea. Maybe we should take a break soon so we can work on your other skills.”
“Oh, I have skills?” I smiled because the thought of doing anything to get out of the archives appealed, even if it meant being lectured by Tom. My discovery, exciting as it was, could not get my adrenaline going for more than a few minutes.
Unfortunately, the archives was where I was to remain for several more hours. Tom left to follow up on whatever he was doing, and I went back to the book. Hope that it really did contain more badly organized information was all that kept me going, but the hope diminished with each new page. When I got to the end, I was ready to drown myself in a vat of coffee.
The archive rule was that anything you didn’t check out had to be returned as soon as you were done. Since we’d made note of the book, I took it back to its shelf, and I swore it felt heavier this time around. If I was lucky, Tom was ready to go do that training session. My back ached from being hunched over, and my fidgeting was starting to annoy even me.
As I slid the book in place, the bright red cover of the one next to it caught my eye. Whatever you weren’t searching for was always more fascinating than what you were, so I picked it up, curious about what other treasures were locked away in this vast warehouse.
A Treatise on the Nature of Transformative Magic. Idly, I opened the cover and scanned the contents. It was a more modern book than what I’d been reading, published in the late eighteen hundreds. It also seemed to take pains to treat its subject area like a science. The author described being inspired by the “flourishing field of medicine and the recent biological discoveries of Mr. Darwin” and others whose names I didn’t recognize.
The chapter titles read almost as much like a medical textbook as they did a magical one. Amused, I skimmed through them until the last one made me catch my breath.
IX. Reversing the Effects of Transformative Magic
Reversing the effects. Holy shit. This was the very thing I’d been wanting to know—was it possible?
I wet my lips, bidding the guilt that bubbled up inside me to go away. Just because I wished I could make Lucen human again didn’t mean he wished for the same. And my reasons for wanting him human were entirely selfish. I wanted him to myself. I hated having to share him with addicts.
I supposed I should feel hypocritical since I was sexing it up with Devon, but I couldn’t. What I’d told Devon the other day was true—I liked him. But I’d cut Devon from my life without a second thought if it meant a normal life with Lucen.
My fingers trembled as I flipped the page.
“Find something new?” Tom asked.
I almost dropped the book, so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t heard him arrive. “Uh, no. I knocked this off the shelf while I was putting the other one away.”
Lying to Tom was a subconscious decision, one that I wrote off to more guilt. This time that I’d been distracted from my real purpose. But whatever the cause, I didn’t need him knowing what I’d found so interesting in the book. I’d likely get another lecture about relationships with satyrs.
I slid the book on the shelf, making a mental note of the red cover and which book I’d found it by. I’d be back to the archives tomorrow. And if tomorrow yielded no time, the day after. Assuming the furies didn’t carry out their plans by then.
“Are we going to train?” I asked.
We did for another two hours, only it wasn’t physical training like I’d been hoping for. Tom took me to an empty lab and began instructing me in the finer points of defensive magic. From creating basic counter-curses to healing charms to the rudiments of how to make quick and dirty curse grenades—it sounded more exciting than it was. In fact, it all resembled chemistry too much to be fascinating in the details. I also wasn’t ready to do more than learn the fundamentals, so there was no mixing magical anti-pred dust for me yet.
For the third day in a row, I had the beginnings of a headache when I left the building. Devon waited across the street at a café, same as he’d done yesterday, his horns hidden by a disguise charm. I wondered what the Gryphons going in and out of the building thought of it. They might not see the satyr in their midst, but they’d sense him and certa
inly wonder if one was staking out the building.
“Where to tonight?” I asked as he took my arm.
Devon had taken to playing tourist since Tom had refused his offer to help. While not surprising, the refusal was also a touch infuriating. But then, I could understand the Gryphons not wanting a satyr in their archives.
So as not to completely waste time, however, Devon also had taken to designing magic lessons for me. Lucen had suggested it, and I’d reluctantly agreed, so Devon spent about an hour each night magically assaulting me. After my encounter with Claudius, I knew I had to get better at mentally thwarting pred influence without relying on my ability to reverse the bond. I just wasn’t sure it was possible to practice such a thing, nor did it help that these training sessions invariably ended up with both of us naked.
But ultimately, the vast hours of Devon’s afternoons and late nights without me had been given over to his own research—choosing attractions, restaurants and cafés we could visit in the evening. He’d be wide awake, and I’d be tired but in need of mental rest.
“There’s a Moroccan restaurant I want to check out,” Devon said.
“In France?”
“Honestly, Jess, Morocco was a French colony. Why not?”
Why not? Even if I were awake, I’d have had no answer.
I ordered some excellent dish with couscous and more wine, and I was feeling a little too relaxed as we exited the restaurant. Certainly too relaxed for someone in my position. The universe drove home that fact when I caught sight of two familiar-looking men down the street.
I grabbed Devon’s arm. “Hold on. Did you see them?”
One of the two glanced over his shoulder the moment I spoke. Our eyes met, then he quickly spun around, and he and his partner disappeared around the corner.
“See who?”
“Two guys.” I dragged Devon with me down the sidewalk. “One’s wearing a jeans jacket, and the other has on a colorful scarf. They’re not human. I can’t sense them, but I saw them earlier at lunch and thought it was weird. They were out early for preds, and magi don’t usually bother disguising themselves.”
The amusement in Devon’s eyes vanished, and he picked up his pace so that I had to struggle to keep up with his longer legs. If he thought I was being paranoid, he gave no indication of it. “Most nonhumans live on the other side of the city, far from the Gryphons. No idea about the magi.”
We turned the corner, but the street was busy, filled with outdoor table seating and lined with trees. I strained on my toes, my vision stymied by the canvas patio covers on the bistros and a passing bus.
“I see them.” Devon took off, and I followed blindly. “I think they’re addicts.”
I kept close behind as we weaved through the crowds. All the wine, combined with the aroma of food and the smell of perfume and sweat, made my insides regret the past hour’s indulgence. It would be just what I needed, to catch up with these guys and vomit when I should be fighting.
Note to self: from now on, only one glass of wine after a long day.
“There. Damn.” Devon pulled me toward the intersection, and I saw them at last. A tram stop was up ahead and the tram already there. Although we darted through traffic, we weren’t going to make it. I wasn’t anyway.
“Go!” I pushed Devon from behind, cursing my spinning head. He could make it if he ran.
He didn’t respond, and in unison we slowed to a stop several seconds later as the tram doors shut in front of us.
I swore. “You could have caught them.”
“My job here is to protect you. Not to chase after potential threats. For all we know, seeing them twice was a coincidence.”
I kicked a pebble down the platform. “That guy took off when he saw me watching him. It doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”
Devon ran his hands through his hair, catching his breath. “No, it doesn’t, but that’s all the more reason for me not to abandon you. Who could know you’re here?”
It sounded like a rhetorical question, and it had many obvious answers, but I responded aloud anyway. “Everybody. Nobody. The goblins know Tom and I stopped coming to the meetings. They’ll have had plenty of opportunities to send new assassins after me. Or Claudius could have figured out the same thing and contacted the local Dom to dispatch me. Or it’s the furies.” I gave Devon a quick rundown on my suspicions about a Gryphon leak.
“Given what happened in Boston, Claudius or the goblins strike me as most likely,” Devon said. “Let’s get back to the hotel. I’ve got a couple things to do besides magically assault you tonight.”
I cringed at the choice of words. “We can skip that part. My brain is addled enough as it is. What do you need to do?”
“First, you’re moving into my room. Don’t argue. It didn’t take me long to find you in this city. It won’t take anyone else with half a brain either. Second, I’ve got to contact Dezzi. If it is the local satyrs, I want to find out. Dezzi should know more about their Dom. If I’m lucky, she’ll actually know their Dom or know someone who does. Introductions always come in handy when you’re trying to ruin someone’s best laid plans for murder.”
Sighing, I clomped along next to him, and I didn’t feel secure until we’d moved my belongings into his room. Putting an ocean between me and Boston was supposed to keep me safe. If I wasn’t, how was I supposed to concentrate on research? Goodness knew I had a hard enough time as it was.
So far, nothing about this trip had gone as planned. Figured.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I debated for a while what to tell Tom about the men and ultimately decided to say nothing. My anxiety lessened overnight, right along with my blood alcohol level. In the bright glow of morning, it was harder to worry. Maybe that was foolish, but I didn’t want to distract Tom, nor did I relish the thought of being stuck with Gryphon bodyguards. Bad enough that Lucen would find out, but at least I was separated from his overprotectiveness by several thousand miles.
I would simply take better precautions myself. I wouldn’t stray far from World during the day, wouldn’t get lunch or coffee alone and wouldn’t drink outside the hotel room. When I did go out, I’d pay more attention to the people surrounding me than the sights. It was common sense.
I was following up on yesterday’s lead about the key when Marie triumphantly set a polished wood box in front of me and Tom. “I believe this is what you wanted?”
My heart missed a beat as I gaped at the box. Could this truly be it? If Marie had found a Vessel, we could all let out a giant sigh of relief. There was no way the furies could break into these archives to steal it.
Then logic squashed my excitement like a bug. The box Marie had brought didn’t possibly look big enough to hold a Vessel like they were described in the lore. Though large, the box was flat, no more than two inches thick.
Tom put on his gloves and released the latch. The lid swung open, and I held my breath—logic be damned—as he pulled something glassy out of it.
Tom’s gleeful smile transformed his face into something even younger than usual. “Our piece of the puzzle. Marie, excellent work.”
Incased in glass was a familiar piece of paper or parchment. It was rougher than I’d have expected around the edges, but given how old Tom speculated it had to be, the ink was remarkably dark and clear. And there was a lot of it. Writing or drawings of some sort covered nearly every inch.
I pulled up the photo Devon had stolen to compare it. Although hard to say for sure, our piece must have been about the same size based on how much writing there was. The markings were comparable too, yet different. Same code hiding different words.
“We need to decipher it,” Tom said, glancing between my photo and the parchment.
“How do we do that? You have a codebreaker here?”
Tom lifted the glass and ran his finger over the seal. “In a manner of speaking. It�
�s all about magic. These were written by magicians for magicians. That’s the key to understanding how to unlock the meaning. We don’t need a cryptologist in the traditional sense. We need the right counter-charm.”
That proved tricky enough. Concocting the right sort of anti-magic was a delicate skill in the best of situations, and it was made all the more challenging in this case because of the age of the parchment. First, we had to remove it from the glass without damaging it. Next, Tom had to defer to an expert charm maker to do the deed.
This process was further hampered by the need to construct the counter-charm in the air-quality-controlled archive as well as by the preservation charms on the parchment, of which we were informed there were many. The parchment’s magic had been weakened over time. If it hadn’t been so carefully preserved, both by mundane and magical means, I couldn’t imagine the thing would still exist.
As for the preservation charms, they interfered with the Gryphon’s reading of the spell he had to break, and there was a certain danger in trying too many times to do it. For all we knew, there could be layers upon layers of spells on the parchment, including one that initiated some sort of self-destruct if the wrong counter-charms were used.
Marie had found the parchment early in the morning, but the process to decode it dragged on well into the afternoon. At first, I’d watched expectantly, as had Tom and Marie, as if any moment our expert charm maker would succeed. When it became clear nothing was happening fast as usual, Tom sent me and Marie back to our research.
In need of coffee, I popped back into the room later where Tom was hovering over the charm maker as he prepared for another go. “I’m very glad you guys don’t use the same sorts of magic on your top-secret belongings these days.”
“What do you mean?” Tom asked.
I thought of the time I’d had to break a magical lock on the server room door in Boston. I thought it had been challenging, but I was beginning to see how wrong I’d been. “You’re happier not knowing.”
Darkest Misery Page 19
