Chapter Twenty-Four

Agiddy bubble of laughter surfaced as she pushed aside the bookshelf and stepped into the darkened room. She closed the door behind her, running her hand along the wall until she found the catch that released it. She'd need a quick escape, and she couldn't use the precious time on the way out. Light bulbs glowed faintly, revealing a set of stone stairs. Apparently, this glass house had been built on top of something already in existence. Pre-monster housing, likely. Nothing glass like this could have survived those tumultuous times.

There was only one option—down.

Kierse descended into the warlock's lair. The steps were smooth as if feet had trod on them for centuries, wearing them away in the middle. She could hear noises ahead. Not voices, exactly, but something out of place. She steeled her nerve, loving every minute of unease that swept through her as she reached the bottom of the steps. She entered a hallway that split into diverging paths. The noises were coming from off to the left. Silence to the right. Knowing what was happening would be to her advantage, even if it likely meant going deeper into the lion's den.

Her feet were silent on the stone floors as she veered to the left. It wasn't long before she saw a wooden door at the end of the hallway. Her heart thudded in her chest. All sounds from the party above were gone. It was just Kierse and whatever awaited her. She turned the knob and opened the door a fraction of an inch. Enough so that she could peer into whatever lay ahead.

Her eyes rounded when she took in the enormous underground chamber. Crates that matched the ones upstairs were neatly stacked along the perimeter, and the interior was full of six-foot-long metal autopsy tables. Thankfully, they weren't being used for their practical purpose, but instead for the hundred people inside cutting, packaging, and crating a fine red powder.

Kierse had one guess for what that was—wish powder. This was not some small operation. This was... a whole business. Did Graves already know about this? Was this the "business matters" he was talking to Imani and Montrell about? Was this what they needed to keep from Kingston? Whoever he was...

More questions. No answers. Graves had said that the powder wasn't dangerous. It was just an extension of Imani's magic. But it was clearly a bigger operation than he'd let on.

But this wasn't what she was here for. Kierse retraced her steps and headed down the other side of the tunnel. She walked for what felt like ages, counting her steps along the way to make sure she knew how far she had gone. Maybe her objective wasn't even here. It was just their business they were protecting.

Then she took the next turn and came upon a large, round bank vault door. The enormous thing was built into the stone. Likely, the entire structure of the house had been built around this beautiful, gilded door.

Kierse smiled. Showtime.

She didn't have any tools with her save a hairpin, but she didn't need them to break into this vault. It was old. It must have been here for at least a hundred years. They didn't even make these anymore. Which was good for her. Getting into an old, abandoned bank vault was going to be a piece of cake compared to the kind of situations Jason had forced her to break into and out of. At least this one wouldn't end up with her breaking her arm when she didn't crack a vault fast enough.

The warlocks must have figured the carved whorls and swirls in a language she couldn't quite read would keep anyone out. Wards. They were different than the ones on the Holly Library. Graves's warding was threaded through with holly vines, but this had little birds in the pattern: a long-necked bird facing backward with feet facing forward. She'd seen the symbol on the wax seal of the invitation. If she had to guess, this was Imani's warding. She was more powerful than Montrell. She'd want to protect the contents. Which meant that the holly was specific to Graves. Interesting.

Luckily, wards didn't work on her. And Imani and Montrell hadn't thought that they'd need increased security. They hadn't anticipated her. Just like Graves. No security systems. Nothing to disable. No heat sensors or alarms or motion detection. Sloppy. Though clearly effective. Graves had said there was no one else like her. Normally, wards would be enough, but not tonight.

Kierse lowered herself before the locking mechanism, placing her ear to the gears behind it. Though she was well trained, vaults by their nature were not supposed to be easy to break into, unlike those little fireproof safes that she could sometimes just hit right or drop from the top of a building and click, they'd bust open.

The fastest, most effective way to get into a bank vault was to drill through until she could see the pins and gears beyond. Then she would be able to reverse engineer the combination and turn it over. The problem was that not everyone knew exactly where to drill. Most vaults had a relock function. If damaged they would shut down so that the person would have to completely dismantle the vault over the course of hours to get to it. By then, security would be there to arrest her. And they had.

Kierse shuddered. It was a memory. A bad one. Jason had left her for the cops. He'd said jail was just another vault to break out of and that she'd need the practice. She had never again reengaged a locking mechanism in a vault. Not after he'd put his fist through her face.

But of course, tonight, she didn't even have a drill. Nor had they anticipated the Catos having a vault in the first place.

That left her with one option—breaking the vault code.

And while she had been trained for it, it did take time. Her most valuable resource. She was going to need to break her own personal record tonight to not be noticed.

Kierse turned the dial, listening for the small variation in rhythm that said she had hit an internal disc movement. She noted the placement and then kept on, moving the dial back and forth and back and forth, trying to get the vault to tell her all its secrets. Jason had been fast at this, but she was always faster. As if the vault spoke directly to her and she was the only one who knew how to listen.

Her shivering kept her alert. The basement was freezing. It had none of the artificial heat that blasted through the warlocks' main room, which was made worse by the fact that she was in next to nothing. Her hands trembled as she worked. She was thankful for whatever immunity powers she had, but right now, in the deepest parts of winter, she wished that she had some fire in her veins.

Time passed slowly. With each ticking moment, she waited for someone to venture down the dark corridor. She had no idea how long she'd been there when she turned the handle one final time and a hissing noise came from the door as it popped open.

She coughed as a cloud of white smoke burst into her face. Kierse waved it away, swiping at her eyes to try to keep them from burning. So there had been one last defense mechanism, and still, it had been magical. Kierse was certain that whatever she had just ingested was wish powder, but it was a different color than everything she had seen in the crates. Magic didn't work on her, but she had no desire to find out if this stuff did.

The white smoke was a hanging question mark. She needed to hurry.

Kierse tucked her clutch under her arm, hauled the vault open, and stepped into the space. The vault was roughly a large rectangle, big enough for her to walk into, and it held enough money to weather a lifetime or ten. Cash was wrapped and stacked in staggering amounts. Gold bars lined the floor like bricks on a city street. Jewelry and gemstones sat like Ali Baba's treasure trove. It was dazzling.

Her palms began to sweat as she stared down at them in confusion. She was frigid and yet... sweating. She placed her hand on her forehead, and she was hot. Unnaturally hot. She staggered forward, knowing that if she was found here, they would kill her.

Kierse searched faster, looking past the luxury for just one innocuous envelope. She rummaged through boxes full of jewels, and as she weakened, she stopped caring if she left them scattered on the ground. She moved past the African masks on display, the bags of what appeared to be seeds, and some sort of water machine. And then... there it was, nestled on top of a container.

Sweat trailed down her spine and over her breasts, carving crevices in her skin. She swallowed hard again. She wished she had some water. Anything to quench this eternal heat. She had wished for heat, and now she was ablaze. Maybe magic did work on her.

Kierse collected the envelope. Graves had described it to her perfectly. A small square stuffed to the brim and sealed with a holly leaf pressed into black wax.

This was it.

She needed to get out of here or she might literally turn to ash right where she stood.