Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Roxy

I won't lie.

The new outfit made me feel a bit like a badass.

I was suddenly having flashbacks to a show I watched once where some secret government agency swept up a girl right out of her high school, still wearing her white and yellow cheerleading outfit, took her to some underground training facility, changed her into an all-black outfit, and trained her how to become an assassin.

It was a really good show that they cut short after two seasons. Right before we got to see the romantic leads that had been toeing the line of more than friends since the beginning about to finally get together.

I'd considered sending a long, angry email about the cancellation. But I never got around to doing that.

Anyway, yeah, it seemed like a wardrobe change wasn't just a fun plot device to show character development. It actually worked in real life too.

I definitely didn't feel capable of breaking into a church and finding some mystical key in my loaf pets PJ pants. In this new all-black ensemble with my messy hair pulled back in an elastic, though? Totally could see myself doing exactly that.

Seeing myself doing it and actually doing it were two very different things, though, as I finally saw the church in question looming in the distance.

I mean, of course it was the biggest, oldest, most intimidating-looking church in the city.

In fact, it wasn't a simple church at all.

This was Seraphim Cathedral.

The largest gothic cathedral in the States.

Thirty-thousand square feet of pointed arches, flying buttresses, ribbed vaults, and endless little corners to hide a special magical key in.

Great.

That was just great.

I would probably get shin splints from running around in circles before I even got close to finding the key.

"I'm starting to think two million isn't enough for this," I groused. Even if it was more than enough money to set me up for many years to come.

Sure, I could get money other ways.

A money spell jar, for example.

The thing was, magic wasn't exactly that black & white. You couldn't just conjure money out of nowhere. There had to be a source. So, for example, for me, doing a money spell would mean there was a sudden uptick in demand for my spells. That meant more work that produced more money.

But, well, the whole more work part was always what held me up.

And this, yeah, this was surely a lot more work.

I'd be lucky if I could clear half of the cathedral before sunup.

"How haunted is a place like this?" I was thinking aloud, imagining the thousands of people who'd had services held there.

"A couple dozen bishops, at least, are in the tombs."

I hadn't even considered that.

"What's the matter, witch?" he asked. "Scared of a few ghosts?"

"Of course not."

I mean, yeah, some ghosts were downright terrifying. Historically, people died in many horrifically brutal ways. And they weren't always, you know, cleaned up like they were nowadays. So their ghosts were walking around with pieces missing, bloodied, all broken and twisted.

But once you visited a few graveyards to collect dirt for hexes, you kind of got used to those visuals.

I imagined the bishops had likely died peacefully of old age.

Sure, they might have some choice things to say to a witch in their sacred space, but other than that, they would just be a bit of a distraction at most.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Nathaniel asked as his driver climbed out to open my door.

I slipped my legs out of the door, sucking in a deep breath as I stared at the massive limestone building and tried not to notice the moonless sky. A sign of wandering evil spirits.

Though, to be fair, maybe I was that wandering evil spirit. I rushed up the steps of the church, ignoring the flip-flop in my stomach that a lifetime of knowing I was not welcome in these sorts of holy institutions created.

But, hey, I was only doing this because other witches before me had done so as well.

And, you know, for the two million dollars.

I reached for the handle, glad that there was no sizzle of a ward on my skin.

The door was heavier than I'd anticipated, taking all of my—admittedly reserved—strength to pull it open.

The inside had the faded scent of incense—frankincense and myrrh that likely wafted out from the censer as the bishop swung it around—and the chill that came from stone walls and too-tall ceilings where the heat dissipated.

Shaking out the tension in my shoulders, I made my way down the nave, glancing up at the darkened stained glass windows. My mind flashed back to Nathaniel's brownstone, wondering if he'd been alive to see this cathedral built.

He'd suggested that I might feel the key, but I felt nothing but the general feeling of awe that I imagined everyone felt when faced with such intricate architecture. The attention to detail, the hours and days, weeks, and years that went into the wooden embellishment, the statues, the painted dome thirty feet above my head.

I passed by a Mary statue with a table of half-lit votive candles spread before her, evidence of prayers uttered by those in need at all hours of the night.

I walked past the high altar, imagining no witch would place a magic key in such a sacred space.

I moved into the choir, looking and feeling around but finding nothing but bibles and hymn books.

Stiffening at the idea of someone being inside, I made my way into the sacristy, finding a surprisingly bland room housing the alb and chasuble as well as sacred vessels and books of parish records.

Generations of bishops had stood in this very room, preparing for mass. It was another space that just felt wrong for the placement of the key.

But with a moody vampire waiting for me and a life-changing sum of money on the line, I was committed to finding what I was after.

Nothing in either the north or south vestry had the hum of magic, though, so I made my way back out, moving through the pews, checking under and behind statues.

Sweat was pebbling on my forehead as I found the steps up to the gallery that, in other times, was where they stuck the children. Now, I guess, people just sat there if they wanted a better view or when the lower level was too full on holy days.

I found a particularly crude drawing in pencil on the backs of one of the pews, taking a moment to wipe it with the edge of my shirt until it was at least not so visible before I made my way to the second balcony, a space that was likely reserved for the nuns from the convent that, according to the pamphlet in a holder on the floor below, was situated in the cathedral's basement.

I hoped that I wouldn't have to sneak down there to look around.

Down below, the massive oak doors creaked open, making my heart stammer in my chest as I dropped down below the half wall of the balcony, only peeking up after the doors closed, watching as someone walked toward the votives, stood there for a moment, then lit one.

His head bowed, lost in whatever pain was weighing down his soul, and I couldn't help but feel like the whole display was to show me how unwelcome I was here, how wrong it was to be sneaking around looking for a hidden key to hand over to an evil creature sitting on the street in a town car.

Still, I had a job to do.

Once the man let himself back out, I climbed another, smaller, set of stairs to the tower where recording equipment was strewn about to capture and play sermons for those who could not make it to mass.

I dropped down onto the hard seat, exhaling hard as I glanced hopelessly around.

This was the part where everything in me said to give up. To go home. Eat some chocolate. Watch a show. Get a solid nine or ten hours of sleep.

Even the money wasn't motivation enough to overcome my innate laziness.

The one thing that had me getting back to my tired feet, though, was the vampire expecting me to pull through.

Sure, he was counting on me right now.

But if I didn't come through, I doubted a man who drained the life source from people would hesitate in killing me.

No, I wouldn't make it easy for him.

But what could I possibly do to him? Make his stupidly perfect hairline recede a little? Give him a patch of dry skin on his cheek that refused to ever go away?

And that was assuming I could even try to work a spell before he killed me.

No, my life wasn't exactly, you know, grand. But it was mine. I liked it. I wanted to keep living it. I really wanted to know if the witches on that reality show started casting spells on each other like the trailer for the next season suggested.

And there was a new flavor of cupcakes coming to my local bakery next month that I'd been dying to try.

There was a lot to live for, damn it.

So I had to find this stupid key.

I crept my way back down the steps, making another turn around the room, trying to open myself up to receiving signs from the universe or the vibration of the wards.

It wasn't until I was in the chapel again that I noticed a door I'd missed before.

There was a brass plaque on the wood declaring one word.

Patio.

I didn't know what I was expecting.

But a sprawling, meticulously maintained garden enclosed in tall walls to protect it from the outside world was not it.

The paths moved alongside colorful beds of roses, zinnias, daisies, coneflowers, sage, marigolds, and hydrangeas.

Stone benches were placed here and there, likely spaces meant for meditation, reflection, and prayer.

It was no surprise to me when I took a step into the patio that I finally heard it.

A sweet, high-pitched humming. A music that never slowed, never dulled.

A song that could only be attributed to one thing.

A spell.

Of course this was where the witches would have hidden the key. Especially if they placed it here a hundred or more years ago.

Witches, especially ones of past generations, always felt their power was stronger when surrounded by nature. Feet in the grass, moon above their heads.

It would also feel less sacrilegious to them to place it here. Since nature belonged to all of us.

I wondered as I moved down the paths of flowers, if worshipers could hear this song, and if they could, what they would attribute it to.

I imagined the nuns on their knees tending to their gardens, the music swelling around them, soft and sweet as an angel's song.

Or perhaps only other witches could hear the music.

It grew louder as I walked until it was loud enough to drown out even my own thoughts as I approached a fountain.

The water cascaded in a lazy stream from the top basin into the large circular bottom, complete with a wide enough ledge for someone to sit and rest on.

I went ahead and lowered myself down, closing my eyes, trying to focus on the song, figure out where, exactly, it was coming from.

Shifting in my seat, I leaned down toward the water, hearing the song intensify.

It was in the water, somewhere.

I reached into it, the cool water giving me momentary relief from the cloying heat.

Feeling along the base of the fountain itself, little round circles met my exploring fingers until, suddenly, one felt too smooth compared to the others.

If there was a question in my mind about it, the way electricity shot up my arm sure answered it for me.

"Ow," I hissed, snatching back my hand.

Okay.

What was my move here?

I could grit it out and just work the crystal free, ignoring the pain that zapped up my arm.

Something told me, though, that it wouldn't be that simple.

It was placed here by witches. It was spelled. Getting it out would require more of the same.

And I had nothing on me to cast anything with.

But when left without supplies, I suppose there were always sigils. Sure, I hadn't actually used a sigil in years, let alone created my own out of thin air.

Magic was pretty basic, though, if you boiled it down to its most basic ingredients.

Fire.

Air.

Earth.

And water.

I certainly had the last.

Deciding to give writing one in the water a try, I dipped my fingers back into the water as I cleared my mind, so I could focus on the idea of breaking the ward, of removing the stone.

Before I knew I was even doing it, I felt the vibration of the song of the ward moving through me as my finger traced a sigil onto the side of the fountain.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The song had been so overwhelming that the sudden silence had my ears ringing as I sat there too stunned to move.

It worked.

It actually worked.

Right?

There was only one way to know.

I plunged my hand back under the water, feeling for the too-smooth stone and tracing my fingers over it. But this time, there was no current of pain up my arm.

And with a little digging with my fingernails, the stone came free, a perfectly round circle dropping into the palm of my hand.

My hand lifted out of the fountain, water cascading from my palm as I opened it to see a tumbled crystal quartz with something enclosed in the center.

This?

This was the key to unlock a mystical labyrinth?

One that held something a vampire, who seemed to have everything in the world, wanted?

What the hell was he having me steal?