A smile stretches across my face. “You’re dumb.”
“Is that a smile? A real smile? Oh my god, I don’t believe it.”
I flick his arm. “I’m just being polite.”
He chuckles. “I appreciate that.”
We order lattes, and I let him pay for mine since he insisted. Then we retreat to the quiet corner, where I spend at least a minute stirring my drink before he breaks the silence.
“What did Logan want?”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing.” My fingers tighten around my spoon. “Did you know he’s thinking about working here?”
“Good. He needs to do something.”
“He doesn’t do anything?”
Griffin laughs. “He hasn’t done anything his entire life.”
Besides run around with his friend’s girlfriend. “He thinks he can work his way up the advertising ladder.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“With what qualifications? I know Jerod is vice president and really doesn’t need to be there, at least not right now, but at least he has an MBA. He worked his ass off for his degrees. And he didn’t know Owin was going to do that. He thought he’d be in upper management somewhere. Logan has done nothing. I don’t even know how he got out of high school. Is he going to get a business degree, at least?”
“I have no idea.” I take a sip from my mug so I’ll stop stirring.
“We don’t have to talk about this.”
“No, I want to. It’ll make me feel better. Maybe.” I pick up my phone and tap it against the table. “I saw something.” I almost blurt the words out. I can’t help it. I need to tell someone, and I quite literally have no one to talk to. Not even a dog. Or a guinea pig. Or a rat. I find the video on my phone and show it to Griffin without explanation.
He takes my phone and squints down at it. “What the hell? Is that…that’s Logan.” His jaw tightens. “When did you take this?”
“Last night?”
“I knew it. I knew she was running around on him. I never expected it to be with Logan. How long has that been going on?”
“I have no idea.”
“Where is that?”
“In that space between our building and Lot Enterprises. They’re doing it right under his nose.”
Griffin runs a hand over his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with this.”
“No. Please. Burden me.” He smiles, and the tight coils in my neck loosen just a bit. “I’d hate for you to have to deal with that alone. Jesus.” He slides my phone across the table. “What do you think we should do?”
I shake my head and put the phone away. “I don’t know. I can’t just tell him. He’s fragile.”
Griffin tries not to laugh at that statement and fails. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”
I smile and more knots soften. “He knows. But you can remind him.”
We sip our drinks silently for a moment, probably each lost in a pool of thoughts.
“I know your brother,” Griffin says, a thoughtful expression on his face. “And you do too. If you show him that video, he won’t take it well. He’ll go off the rails.”
“Come to me.”
The voice hisses so suddenly in my ear, I almost knock my cup over. Thankfully, Griffin is looking off to the side.
“I’ll make sure she suffers.”
“Do you think I should try talking to her?” I ask. “See if I can get her to leave?”
“I don’t know. Part of me wants to protect Jerod, but I feel like I would want to know, if it was me. I mean…I would definitely want to know.”
“If this thing with us lasts, I promise I’ll tell you when I’m cheating on you.”
He grins. “Stop it.” We both laugh. “I don’t know, what do you think?”
“He’s going to hurt either way. He might as well know the truth.”
“Talk to her first, before you talk to your brother. Trust me. She’ll pay. And the friend, too.”
Because of the voice in my ear…in my head…I miss part of what Griffin’s saying.
“…with caution. I think you should talk to her. And I’ll talk to Logan and see where his stupid head is at. Let him know that I know.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe what an asshole he is. How did I miss that? That he would do something like that? We’ve always been so close. The level of disrespect…” He shakes his head again. “Seeing that video won’t help. Jerod will make up some excuse. You know he will. Even I have a hard time believing it, and I have no stake in this. He’ll say it’s not them, even though it clearly is. I know how bad his denial can be when it’s not something serious. I don’t want to deal with that. And I know you don’t either. It has to come from one of them. Maybe we can guilt them into confessing.”
“Maybe.” What would I even say to her? She knows I hate her. I have to go back through the tunnels. Talk to…that voice. Figure out how to open that door. “Are you going to yell at Logan?”
“Probably.”
“Good.” We exchange looks of mild amusement.
“I’m not like that,” he says. “I’m nothing like Logan.”
“I know you’re not.”
Griffin takes a long sip from his mug. “So, how’s life?”
“It sucks.”
He laughs.
“Arthur thinks I should go somewhere. Like a vacation or something.” The change in topic is abrupt but appreciated.
“You should. Not because everyone else does. Go because you deserve it. Do you have any place in mind?”
“Not really. I guess I could go to New York and visit with Arthur and Cece.”
“That’s not far enough. No, get out of the country.”
“I don’t have a passport.”
“Get one. You can make an appointment and go next week.”
It’s that easy? “Don’t I need documents and stuff?”
“Yeah, but you probably have everything you need, and if you don’t, you can get that stuff from your dad. He keeps everything in his office.”
Sure. That’ll go over real well. I chew on the inside of my lip. He’s in and out a lot though. Now that I know I can unlock doors with my mind, I can get in there anytime I want. I haven’t really taken the time to appreciate how cool that is. But honestly, if I took the time to sort out how I feel, I’m positive I’d find myself freaked by it. Everyone else in the family is so normal. Where does it come from? Could Alara move things with her mind?
Griffin watches me, his expression thoughtful.
“What are you staring at?”
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
I try not to smile. “I would kick you, but I think there’s a giant pole in the way.”
“There is.” He glances at his watch. “Damn, I have to go. There’s a late afternoon conference I need to take notes for before I go home.”
“It’s no problem.”
“It’s kind of a crappy date. All we did was drink coffee and rant about people.”
“No, I liked this. I’ve been on fancier dates with much crappier conversation. And people. I’ll take this over that anytime.” I really would. It’s comfortable sitting here with Griffin and getting to say whatever I want. It’s not like I could talk about my brother and his unfortunate taste in women with anyone else. Talking about it has taken a lot of the weight off my shoulders.
“Well, if you’re happy, then that means you’ll let me take you out for real later?”
“If you must.”
He laughs and slides out of his chair. After collecting our cups and carrying them to the dish rack, we go back up to the office floor together.
“Don’t worry about your brother,” he says when I’m settled back into reception. “We’ll figure something out together.”
My father comes around the half-wall and waves Griffin back to the conference room. He leaves me with a grin and hurries away. The phone rings, and I ignore
it. I prop my elbow up on the desk and drop my chin into my palm. My shift ends in half an hour. Then I can go back to my lavish digs and stare at those walls instead of these.
“Jaaade.”
“What?”
“Come back to me.”
“I’m working.”
“Are you?”
The voice has a point. I slide down from my chair. It’s too early to take the utility elevator down. There are still too many people here. I’ll go in through the outside door.
12
History
As soon as the dark cold closes around me, I wish I’d given more thought to coming down here again. I also wish I’d thought to bring a sweater. And a flashlight. The eerie blue lighting is doing little more than keeping me from running into the walls.
The tunnels stretch out longer than I remember. But I can’t be lost: there’s only one direction to go. The air underground is more frigid than I remember. Puffs of air appear before my face like icy clouds. I expect the silver door at each turn, but the tunnels go on and on until I nearly crash into it. It looms out of the shadows, tall and imposing.
“Sacrifice…”
I peer around the edges for some kind of hidden lever, anything to help me, but it’s so tightly wedged into the wall, I have a hard time believing it opens at all.
“What kind of sacrifice?” I run my hands along the spoked wheels and try to turn them. First the gold one, then the red one. My grip slips on the crimson surface, and the glittering ruby cuts into my skin. I draw in a sharp breath and stare at the blood that drips down onto the golden wheel.
The blood vanishes, and the wheels jerk—the gold and black ones clockwise, the red one counterclockwise.
“More…”
Biting down on my lip, I run a second finger along the ruby spokes and then press my bleeding fingers to the golden wheel. The wheels jerk once more and then turn freely, spinning slowly at first and then rapidly. There’s a deep crunching sound as stone scrapes against stone, and the door pushes itself open.
Darkness lies on the other side. I step into it, feeling around blindly with my hands and feet. I step on a panel of some kind—it sinks a bit under my foot and a band of light illuminates the room. It travels along the top and bottom seams of the stone walls, orange and glowing, like firelight.
My breath catches at the sight before me. The room is triple tiered and filled with several legit piles of treasure. There’s all kinds of gold littering the stone floor: coins, bars, chains, piled up and spilling over wooden crates and barrels. Medieval shields and weapons clutter the corners. There are open safes full of jewels and diamonds, and there are even a few crowns and tiaras adorning random mounds of glittering jewelry.
I move slowly through the room, taking care not to trip over anything as I make my way over the uneven floor. A round shield catches my eye to the left. I cross over to it and run my fingers over the worn and chipped paint.
It looks almost exactly like the shield in my father’s office. Only this one is battered from age and battle. Deep scratches further mar the surface and obscure the image that was once painted upon it. I move away from it and drop down to the second tier. I pick a gold coin off the floor and flip it over in my hands. It’s solid and cold and surprisingly heavy. The image imprinted on the sides has long faded.
“What is all this?”
“Old wealth.”
I turn towards the center of the room, towards the voice. The bottom tier is nearly empty. Only a stone slab and a giant metal container stand down there. I move closer to it. It’s chained to the back wall, and there’s a door in the center of it—a door without a handle or window. Thick rods cover it, rods that are bolted to the ceiling and the floor.
Okay, that’s strange. I graze the back of my hand over one of the bars and immediately jerk back. “Damn it!” They’re so cold they nearly burn my skin. I cradle my hand to my chest. What is that? I can’t tell if it’s a giant safe or some kind of sealed crypt.
Sighing comes from behind the door, and a bright wisp of green smoke curls out from the cracks. I stumble back.
“Don’t fear.”
My heart drums fast against my ribs. This can’t be real. The smoke curls towards me like long, spiny fingers and fades into the air. I back away until I collide with the stone slab. I hold onto that for support as weakness settles into my knees.
“Are you…inside?” I scan the chains along the sides of the…box? What is that?
“I am.”
“Can you see anything?”
“There is only darkness. I feel…your presence.”
“Well, that’s not creepy at all.” I straighten up a little. It’s not like I have anything to be afraid of—outside of the fact that I’m clearly losing my mind.
Deep, masculine laughter echoes around me. “Your energy…there’s so much locked inside…”
His voice vibrates against me, and a tremor runs down the center of my body. His presence is strong down here. Too strong. It almost pushes against me.
“What are you?”
“Now I am nothing.” More smoke squeezes out from the bottom of the door. It’s electric, giving off a bit of its own light. “Once they called me wondrous. Once they called me healer.”
The smoky tendrils reach closer to my face. My shoulders draw up to my ears. “What do you want?”
“Freedom from this cage.”
“You want me to open it?” I look down at the cuts on my fingers.
“Yes…but that will take a different kind of sacrifice. A deeper sacrifice.”
“Like what?” My voice trembles a little, and I take a deep breath to steady it. Everything is fine. I’m only crazy. All the women in this family are.
“Soon. Now is not the time. Now is when I tell you who you are.”
I glance behind me, to the exit.
A heavy breath rises out from behind the metal door. “There is a safe near the front of the room. A locked safe. Open it.”
I push myself away from the slab and move towards the exit. I should leave. I should run out of here and never come back. My feet bring me closer to the silver door, and I gaze out into the shadowy hall.
“Open it.” Electric green smoke caresses something to my right.
Sitting on a small, round, marble table is an antique metal box. A heavy lock is fastened to the hinge. I yank on it a couple of times, and when it doesn’t budge, I pop it open with my mind—as simple as visualizing it. I toss the lock to the side and flip the cold lid open.
There’s not much inside. Just a few rolled-up pieces of paper. I pick one out and carefully unravel it. The paper is aged brown and very fragile. The faded and smeared letters scrawled across the page look like Gaelic, but I can’t read them.
“What does this say?”
“It’s nothing. Try another one.”
I twist around some and squint at the giant metal tomb or whatever it is. “How do you know what I’m looking at?” Uneasiness creeps up my spine, leaving icy prickles in its wake.
“If you don’t know what it is, you are looking at the wrong thing.”
I roll the paper back up and try a second one. This is a drawing of a forest with a large lake at its center. There’s a faded blue X near the top right of the lake and words scrawled in the top margin above the trees. These letters look like Old English. It’s nearly gibberish to me, but underneath that is a smaller script, in the same blue ink as the X. The heavy cursive looks nearly archaic as well, but it’s readable. I bring the tiny, smudged print closer to my face. “There is a lake…hidden from the eyes of mortals. Only one marked may enter. All others perish.”
The sighing behind me is loud and forceful. “Try another.”
“What is this?” I speak without lifting my head. There are numbers drawn under the words. I don’t know what they could mean.
“It is nothing. Try another.”
I roll the drawing back up and start to put it back. Halfway through the motion, however, I chang
e my mind and shove it in my pocket instead. I like it. If nothing else, it’ll make for a nice piece of artwork for my personality-deficient penthouse. I stick the first paper in my pocket as well, and reach for the last rolled-up parchment.
It’s another drawing—one that looks very much like a family tree. I settle back against the wall while I try to decipher it. The tree ends with several names written in that same blue ink. In the center is Arthur XIII, along with his two wives and sister. Under him and wife number two is the name Holton Xacharias, my great-grandfather. Holton’s brother Elijah is to his left, and underneath that are the words “no heirs.” To the right is the name Megara with a line through it—a name I’m wholly unfamiliar with. Who was Megara? And why is it crossed out?
The last name on the tree is Sahra, written under Holton’s. I’ve only heard her name in passing, but I know she was my grandfather’s older sister.
My eyes travel up the family tree, and going back as far as thirteen hundred years, every single female’s name is crossed out. Megara, Alys, Leah, Morgan, Licandra. All crossed out in blue ink until I get to Morgana. Beside her name is Arthur II. They’re both circled, and the year 713 is written beside them.
“You found it.”
“What does this all mean?” I look up from the page. The metal box is nearly glowing from the energy contained inside.
“They are your family.”
I drop my eyes back to the page and scan up to the very top. Uther Pendragon and Igraine—c. 450. A wistful smile touches my face. “I remember. My grandfather used to tell us all these wild tales about our family…” Until I was shipped away. Then he was only interested in curing me. As if there’s a cure for madness.
Our family name has certainly made us popular. But no one ever gets the details right. And no one knows what comes with it.
Underneath Uther and Igraine are Anna, Arthur, and Morgan Le Fey. Anna had a husband, but no more is written about them. Morgan is paired to someone named Lot, and they had Mordred. There’s an X beside his name. Grandfather called him The Great Betrayer—he said that Mordred wanted to wipe out the other side of the family and take the kingdom for himself.
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