I practically ran back to the archives level and had to calm myself when I reentered the restroom. I uncast the invisibility spell and waited for my breathing to slow. The thumb drive was back in my bra, the gloves back in my purse. Studying myself in the mirror, I decided that I looked innocent enough to return to the archives.
One of the scribes let me in. It was the engrossed girl, and she gave me a look that said opening the door was a waste of her time. Ian still appeared to be engulfed with work in the back, which was a relief. I’d been gone far longer than a bathroom trip would require and had worried he’d wonder where I was at. Things could’ve gone badly if he’d sent the girl to find me, both because I wasn’t in the restroom and because she’d be really annoyed at the interruption. Over in the history section, I sat on the floor with a book picked at random, which I only pretended to read. I was too anxious and keyed up to parse the words, no matter how many times I tried to reassure myself. There was no reason for the Alchemists to suspect me of causing the fire. There was no reason for them to think I’d stolen data. There was no reason for them to think I was connected to any of this.
Ian found me when the hour was up, and I feigned disappointment at having to leave. In reality, I couldn’t get out of this building fast enough. He drove me to the airport and chattered nonstop about the next time we’d get to see each other. I smiled and nodded appropriately but reminded him our work had to come first and that my post was particularly consuming. He was obviously disappointed but couldn’t deny the logic. The Alchemist greater good came first. Even better, he didn’t try one of those awful kisses again—though he did suggest we set up some times for video chatting. I told him to email me, secretly vowing I’d never open up any message from him.
I didn’t relax until the plane took off, when the potential for an Alchemist raid seemed pretty low. The most paranoid part of me worried there could be a party waiting for me at the Palm Springs airport, but for now I had a few hours of peace.
I’d just assumed I’d deliver the drive to Marcus and leave it at that. But now, with it in my possession, my curiosity got the better of me. I had to get to the bottom of this mystery. Was the Z. J. who’d visited the Alchemists really Master Jameson?
With fresh coffee in hand, I opened the file on my laptop and began to watch.
Even with one frame per second, the footage went on forever. Most of it was nothing but a quiet checkpoint, with the most exciting parts being when the guards changed position or took breaks. Plenty of Alchemists passed in and out, but relative to the overall time span, they were few and far between. Ian actually showed up once, off to start his shift.
I wasn’t even halfway through when the plane began its descent. Disheartened, I resigned myself to an evening of more of the same when I got back to the dorm. At least I’d be able to make some decent coffee to get me through. I was almost tempted just to push the file off on Marcus tomorrow and let him deal with reviewing it . . . but that nagging voice urging me to find out for myself won. It wasn’t just because of my curiosity either. I didn’t really think Marcus would fabricate anything, but if I could see for sure that—
There he was on the screen.
He wasn’t in those over-the-top robes, but there was no mistaking Master Jameson’s old-fashioned beard. He wore business casual clothing and seemed to be smiling at something a man beside him was saying. The man had a lily on his cheek but was no one I knew.
Master Jameson. With the Alchemists.
Marcus and his Merry Men’s conspiracy had panned out. A suspicious part of me wanted to believe this was a setup, that maybe they’d altered and planted this. But, no. I’d taken it myself, off an Alchemist server. It was possible Marcus had more insiders running errands for him, but this hadn’t been easy for me, even with magical assistance. Besides, why would Marcus go to so much trouble to make me believe this? If it was some twisted way to get me to join him, there were a million other ways he could have attempted it, with evidence much easier to fake.
Something in my gut told me this was real. I hadn’t forgotten the similarities in our rituals or how the Warriors had wanted our groups to merge. Maybe the Alchemists and the Warriors weren’t best friends yet, but someone had at least humored Master Jameson with a meeting. The question was, what had happened at that meeting? Had the Alchemist in the footage sent Jameson packing? Were the two of them together right now?
Regardless of the outcome, this was undeniable proof that the Alchemists and Warriors were still in contact. Stanton had told me we merely kept an eye on them and had no interest in hearing them out.
Once again, I had been lied to.
CHAPTER 21
SOME PART OF ME BEGGED FOR there to be a mistake. I watched the footage three more times, tossing crazy theories around in my head. Maybe Master Jameson had a twin who wasn’t a fanatic who hated vampires. No. The video didn’t lie. Only the Alchemists did.
I couldn’t ignore this. I couldn’t wait. I needed to resolve this immediately. If not sooner.
I sent Marcus a text as soon as my plane was on the ground: We meet tonight. No games. No runaround. TONIGHT.
There was no response from him by the time I got back to my dorm. What was he doing? Reading Catcher in the Rye again? If I’d known what dive he was holed up in, I would’ve marched over there right then. There was nothing I could do but wait, so I called Ms. Terwilliger both as a distraction and to buy some freedom.
“Nothing to report,” she told me when she answered. “We’re still just watching and waiting—although, your extra charm is almost complete.”
“That’s not why I’m calling,” I said. “I need you to get me a curfew extension tonight.” I felt bad using her for something totally unrelated, but I had to do this.
“Oh? Are you paying me an unexpected visit?”
“Er—no. This is for something else.”
She clearly thought that was funny. “Now you use my assistance for personal matters?”
“Don’t you think I’ve earned it?” I countered.
She laughed, something I hadn’t heard from her in a while. She agreed to my request and promised to call the dorm’s front desk right away. As soon as we hung up, my phone chimed with the expected message from Marcus. All the text contained was an address that was a half hour away. Assuming he was ready for me now, I grabbed my messenger bag and got on the road.
In light of my past meetings with Marcus, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d led me to a department store or karaoke bar. Instead, I arrived at a vintage music shop, the kind that sold vinyl records. A large CLOSED sign hung on the door, emphasized by dark windows and an empty parking lot. I got out of my car and double-checked the address, wondering if my GPS had led me astray. My earlier zeal gave way to nervousness. How careless was this? One of Wolfe’s first lessons was to avoid sketchy situations, yet here I was, exposing myself.
Then, from the shadows, I heard my name whispered. I turned toward the sound and saw Sabrina materialize out of the darkness, carrying a gun as usual. Maybe if I showed her the one in my glove compartment, we could have a bonding moment.
“Go around back,” she said. “Knock on the door.” Without another word, she returned to the shadows.
The back of the building looked like the kind of place that screamed mugging, and I wondered if Sabrina would come to my aid if needed. I knocked on the door, half expecting some kind of speakeasy situation where I’d be asked for a password like “rusted iguana.” Instead, Marcus opened the door, ready with one of those smiles he kept hoping would win me over. Strangely, tonight it put me at ease.