Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
The last breaths of daylight made monsters of their shadows as Emmy and Caleb huddled in the clearing. Headquarters had revealed
itself once they’d passed through the illusion, but the formidable white building was far too quiet. In twenty minutes, they
had seen only two guards, the same number they’d seen during the Society’s offseason.
They were too late. Emmy knew it. Caleb knew it, too, though neither said it aloud.
“We should at least have a look around,” Caleb finally said. “Maybe there’s some indication of where they took them, or . . .”
His voice trailed off, but Emmy’s torturous mind gladly filled in the blanks.
Or they’re already dead.
“Can you listen to their thoughts?”
“I’m tapped.” He blew his breath out through his teeth. “But I can keep watch. If someone’s coming, listen for a bird squawking
that sounds an awful lot like someone panicking.”
Emmy studied the long gravel driveway. Deep grooves crisscrossed the length of it. Several carriage wheels had passed through
here. And inside headquarters, candlelight glowed through a single window on the first floor.
Please be alive, she pleaded. Be alive, be alive, be alive . . .
“The guard’s making rounds again.” Caleb pointed to the smear of white in the twilight.
That same pristine uniform that had been taunting her for years now.
As soon as it disappeared around the corner, Emmy slipped the ring onto her finger, letting the iciness of Grace’s cursed conjury wash over her.
It better not fail her now.
The grass over which she ran was the same path she and Jack had taken several weeks earlier, when they’d broken into the basement.
The same locked window. She pressed her hand against it, remembering how Jack had taunted her: Must you overthink even the smallest of tasks? Always riling her, always trying to keep the fire in her eyes.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she reached for her conjury, but it was not there. So unaccustomed was she to having to work for
it, she hardly remembered how.
She called to it again, readying herself for the heaviness, the ache of power. Still nothing.
How the hell had she done this before the relic? With constant practice, she’d steadily increased how quickly she could conjure
so that she could impress the Society. Yet now she could hardly feel the brume without an amplifier.
The brume. Closing her eyes once more, Emmy sucked in a deep breath, picturing that ethereal fog surrounding her, filling
her lungs.
There—a tendril of mist. She latched on to it, muscles already straining, and envisioned the glass as soft as water through
her fingers, as thin as Caleb’s smile as he’d tried to quip about their odds. Sweat trickled down her temple, and exhaustion
shook her muscles, but she held on to the brume as if Jack’s and Jimmy’s lives depended on it.
The window relented. Emmy peeled away the fragile remnants and shimmied inside.
Twilight did not reach the basement. And without Jack, Emmy had no flame. Worse, nothing in the darkness spoke of other people. No breathing, no fidgeting. No sound at all, save the guards’ footsteps upstairs.
After a few minutes, her eyes adjusted well enough to rummage through the basement, which looked the same as it had weeks
ago, save the summer pageant’s trophies, which sat atop a table, freshly polished. Grace had never bothered to make a Fairchild
trophy to celebrate Winnie’s victory.
Losing that night might have been what pushed Grace to plant that truth bracelet.
Emmy could not think of how she’d draped herself over Jack, the tortured sound he’d made—because he’d wanted her. It was maddening, how wrong she’d been.
She needed him to be alive so she could be brave enough to admit it.
Ancient books spilled from shelf after shelf. No sign of a struggle, and certainly no sign of prisoners.
Upstairs was far too quiet, but the walls might have been enchanted to silence any noise, like in Grimsbane. Perhaps that,
too, had been Grace’s conjury.
Careful to stick to the sides of the stairs to reduce their creaking, Emmy tiptoed upstairs.
The hinges on the first door groaned as she pressed against it, and Emmy hesitated.
Several candles were lit on the main floor, the warm light a strange contrast to her cold sweat as she crept through the room,
hoping like hell the floorboards would stay silent. Both guards were nearby, the walls muffling their conversation.
Slipping into an office, she moved about the desk, the gentle breeze of her passing disturbed the stack of papers atop it,
and one fluttered to the ground. Watching the doorway, Emmy picked it up—and froze.
Your Presence Is Requested
at Stratton Mansion on Sunday, the Second of July
at Nine O’Clock in the Evening
for the Trial of Jack Fontaine,
Who Is Charged with the Following Crimes:
The Murder of Elizabeth Windsor;
The Murder of Laurel Foster, guard;
The Murder of Nicholas Razzette, guard;
The Murder of Louis Arthur Stratton, chancellor;
The Attempted Murder of Oliver Stratton, commander;
The Attempted Murder of Grace Windsor;
Manslaughter, in the first degree, of Rose Fontaine;
Revealing conjury’s Secret to Unauthorized Parties;
and Conspiring Against the Society of the Charmed
Justice to Be Delivered On-Site, per Societal Laws and Regulations
With trembling hands, Emmy slipped the notice into her pocket. Thank goodness Jack was alive—at least until tomorrow evening.
She could not panic. Not yet.
Though she already knew it’d be empty, she checked the rest of the main floor before slipping back out the basement window.
Night had finished its descent while she’d been indoors, but she kept the invisibility ring on until she reached where Caleb
waited in the woods.
His face fell when she appeared alone. “Nothing?”
Emmy handed him the notice and slumped on the ground beside him.
They were throwing the book at Jack. Perhaps even more ominous, there was no mention of Jimmy. For once, Rose’s prophecy offered
some comfort. Jimmy was supposed to live.
Unless Rose was proven wrong. Again.
“‘On-site, per societal laws and regulations.’” Caleb chuckled darkly as he folded the paper. “That means they plan to kill
him on the spot, giving the honor to the most aggrieved party.”
“And they think the poor are barbaric.” Emmy took the invitation back from Caleb. “If they find him innocent, will they let
him go?”
Even the night could not hide his devastation. “The trial is a farce. This is a death sentence.”
Emmy could not let his words sink in, not without unraveling completely. “It’s at Stratton Mansion.”
“Which means Mrs. Stratton is back in the Society’s good graces.” Caleb crumpled the paper in his hands. “I haven’t the faintest
idea what to do, and I want to scream.”
“Not yet.” Emmy gripped her pounding head. “There must be a way for us to get them out.”
A heavy silence fell over them, save for the leaves whispering in the July breeze. That it was such a lovely summer evening
was yet another betrayal.
Holding his abdomen, Caleb slowly lowered himself to the ground beside her. “Be careful,” she warned. “If you burst those
stitches, Jimmy will never forgive me.”
“What I wouldn’t give for that giant to yell at me again.” Closing his eyes, Caleb rubbed his temples. “We need to think this
through. After all, you and I have always been the brains of this operation, no matter what Fontaine thought.”
Emmy snorted, then instantly regretted it, because there was nothing funny about the utter hopelessness of their current predicament.
“No panicking,” Caleb warned. “Let’s . . . review what we’re up against.”
“The entire Society.” Emmy blew air out through her teeth. “Oh, and with Rose’s relic, Grace can bridge conjury from a distance.
She can take anyone’s gift on a whim.”
“Like we’d suspected, after the fire.” Caleb whistled under his breath. “So if I get too close to her, she’ll hear our thoughts.”
Emmy laid her head in her hands. Months of sleep deprivation were finally catching up to her, and she didn’t have the relic,
or coffee, or Jack to keep her sharp. “I’m terribly out of practice without the relic.”
“And I’m thoroughly depleted.” Closing his eyes, he stared at the sky. “We have no relic. No allies. I have about fifty stitches
barely keeping my insides from falling out of me.” He paused. “Anything else?”
Emmy patted her skirt pocket. “An invisibility ring that might run out at any second.”
“Lovely,” Caleb said dryly. “So we’re doomed.”
Emmy tried to picture Jack’s frenetic energy whenever he explained his elaborate plans. “Jack’s schemes focused on people’s
deepest desires. If we figure out what matters most to them, they’ll do anything to protect that.”
“Like Clara and her pride. Or the chancellor and his quest for power.” He rubbed his jaw. “In a way, that’s how Grace got
you to give her the relic. She figured out what mattered most to you, maybe before you did.”
Jack. Emmy had lost it while trying to get Jack.
But Emmy could not succumb to her fury now, not when she needed to keep her wits about her. She was smarter than Grace Montgomery,
damnit. Her mind was the one advantage Grace couldn’t steal. “What does the Society of the Charmed desire most? Power? Money?
Status?”
“Believe it or not, what they want most of all is safety.” Caleb tried to shrug, but he looked ready to keel over. “They got off course somewhere along the line, but their ultimate goal is to protect charmed people in a world in which they are greatly outnumbered.”
“Not all charmed people. Only the ones who are rich like them, or who work for them.” Emmy rubbed at her temples. She was
so tired of the Society and its twisted virtues. “Part of me wants to burn it all down.”
“Burn Stratton Mansion, right on Fifth Avenue?” The corner of Caleb’s mouth lifted. “That would certainly attract unwanted
attention.”
“Especially if the flames were black.”
“Jack would survive, but not Jimmy.” With a groan, Caleb rested his head in his hands. “I applaud your passion, but arson
on a massive scale may go a bit too far for my conscience.”
“I don’t want to kill them; I only want to hit them where it hurts. Their pride.”
Emmy stilled. The Society had plenty of pride. In fact, they had a trophy case full of it.
“How are you at corralling wild animals?” Caleb asked. “If we break into the zoo—”
Emmy surged to her feet. Hope was thrashing inside her, painfully sharp.
“How quickly can we get to the city?”