“Hey, George,” I said when the hound turned its head at the sound of our approach. Its eyes glowed like flashlights in the dark light of the hallway. George made a whining sound that I decided to take as his friendliest form of greeting.
“Hey, Mr. Culpepper,” Eli said as I bent and gingerly patted George’s head, his black coat more like scales than fur. I was relieved George stood still for the petting, but he made it clear that he was simply allowing the affection rather than enjoying it.
“Hello.” Culpepper didn’t look up from where he was still sorting through keys. A moment later he identified the correct one and slid it into the lock. “You two be quick about this. Don’t disturb anything, and make sure you lock up when you’re through.”
I straightened from my hunched position. “You’re not going to stick around until we’re done?”
“Nope.” Culpepper brushed his knuckles against his head. He wore his hair military short, no doubt a leftover habit from his time in the Marines. Culpepper was a Metus demon, the kind that feeds on fears, but tonight he had his glamour firmly in place, hiding his horns and keeping the green glow out of his eyes.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Well, one, because I trust you not to do anything too stupid.”
“That’s comforting,” Eli muttered.
Culpepper flashed him a dark look. “And two, I don’t want to risk being involved if you get caught.”
I raised an eyebrow, tempted to point out that his one and two seemed in direct opposition to each other, but really, what would be the point? “All right,” I said. “Thanks for doing this.” Not only had he answered his cell the second I called him, but he’d headed out to meet us right away. We needed to find this proof quick so I could get back to my dorm and write a dream journal about the Telluric Rods.
Culpepper nodded as he twisted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Then he turned away, giving the hellhound’s leash a soft tug. “Come on, George.”
Eli and I waited as Culpepper and the hellhound disappeared around a corner.
“I’ve got to admit, the guy’s growing on me,” Eli said. “He still weirds me out, but he’s a handy contact.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, following after him.
Eli searched for the light switch and turned it on. I blinked away the spots in my vision and scanned the room. It looked more or less the same as it had the last time with a cluttering of books and papers across the desk. Eli made a beeline for them while I examined the bookshelf and the objects I knew had belonged to Marrow.
I eyed the spyglass and the spinning compass long enough to observe the layer of dust covering them. The dust was a good sign. It seemed they were just there for decoration, inconsequential leftovers.
Finally, I turned toward the desk. I slid open the drawer where Corvus had kept the book before. It was still there, and I pulled it out and set it on the table.
“Is that it?” Eli came around beside me for a closer look at it.
I nodded, trying to ignore the way my pulse reacted whenever he drew near. Cursed, we’re cursed. I shut the thought down as tears threatened. “I’ll try to find the page. You keep looking.”
“All right,” Eli said, his voice far too quiet, and I wondered if he’d heard something in my voice—the same painful longing made worse by the certainty of knowing it could never be.
I shrugged it off as best I could, focusing on the book. It took next to no time at all to find the page with the three-ringed symbol, because a small notebook had been wedged into the book on the very page.
“Here it is.” I pulled out the notebook then pushed the book toward Eli. While he examined the page, I flipped through the notebook. I recognized Mr. Corvus’s messy scrawl. Most of it seemed like random notes and gibberish, but then one of the clearer sentences caught my eye.
Only the blood of the twelve can undo the circle.
It was the same sentence I’d decoded during detention. I quickly scanned the rest of the page, and in seconds my skin began to crawl. I couldn’t make much sense of it, but there were a lot of references to blood and sacrifice.
“Eli, look at this.” I handed him the notebook. His expression grew more concerned with each sweep his eyes made over the page.
When he finished, he raised his gaze to mine. “This doesn’t tie him to Kirkwood, but it’s worrisome.”
“No kidding.”
Eli set the notebook down. “Let’s keep looking. There has to be proof here somewhere.”
“Right.” Feeling a welcome burst of energy, one strong enough to temporarily ease the ache in my heart, I resumed my search of the desk.
Eli and I both became so focused on the task at hand that neither of us noticed the door opening a few minutes later. One moment we were alone in the room, and the next two men strode in. I barely had time to register shock when a spell struck me in the chest. It hit hard enough to knock the wind out of me, but I was unconscious before I finished falling.
* * *
The first thing that registered when I woke was the instinctual knowledge that moving was going to be painful. My limbs had the aching, numb feel of muscles deprived of proper blood flow from lying far too long in an awkward position. I opened my eyes, holding as still as I could, even as panic began to build inside me. All I could see from my current location was a stone floor, dirty and cracked from age. I was lying on my side, my arms tied behind my back.