Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I head out from my last class into the cold, gray afternoon, all set to brave the chapel. On the way, I check my phone and find a message from Avery: Lenten prayer service in the chapel right now. Meet us at the Bobcat.
Heaving a sigh, I do an about-face and head to the student center.
The last thing I need is an extra half hour to sit around working myself into a panic about the macguffin.
From the moment I got home yesterday, I’ve been imagining what kind of emotional energy Ember Belladonna left in that thing, and now I’m so nervous I can hardly function.
A woman who murdered twelve priestesses and countless other fae, violated the faerie-species bond, and terrorized her people? It’s going to be a nightmare.
My fingers fly to my amethyst. I have the tiger’s eye, too; in my bra.
Kind of cold at first, but now I can barely tell it’s there.
Same with the folded-up sigil in my boot.
Thanks to a few back-and-forth texts with Avery, I finally managed to create one that would allow me to feel supernatural energies but would dull common human emotions.
It’s been surprisingly effective. Yesterday, it muted the horniness of the guys in Brit Lit enough for me to concentrate on the lecture.
But a few crystals and a sigil won’t have the power to protect me from Ember’s energy today, nor will my velvet cloak. If the macguffin is in the chapel, I’ll have to point to where I think it is, then get the hell out of there.
I dawdle across campus, stalling so long I’m not surprised to find everyone already on their feet when I finally get to the cafe.
The moment he sees me, Leo freezes, half of one arm in the sleeve of his jacket.
His eyes meet mine, and it’s everything I can do not to turn around and walk right back out the door.
Leo Hawthorn, the only obstacle more threatening to my mental health than Ember Belladonna.
For the umpteenth time in the past twenty-four hours, I tell myself, For everyone’s sake, stay away.
Avery breaks our stares with a loud clap of her hands. “Let’s do this thing. It’s take-your-psychic-to-the-chapel-day!”
On our way out, I file in beside her and Aaron, avoiding Leo and Rime. Yet, by the time we’ve rounded the computer labs and advising offices, I’m sandwiched between the latter. Rime’s on my left, guarding me, and Leo’s on my right, defiantly staking his claim.
I’m rushing to the front doors, trying to shake them off, when I’m brought up short by a slow, sexy drawl.
“Heyyyy, Betsy.”
Braden.
Apparently it’s bump-into-people-you-don’t-want-to-see-day, too.
I plaster on a smile. “Hey.”
He’s with Jenna, Mia, and Trevor, but thankfully, not Zander.
“Hey, girl,” Mia gushes. “Long time, no see.”
Jenna points in the direction of the Bobcat. “We’re gonna get some chai and make spring break plans. You wanna come?”
The macguffin crew pull up short when they realize I’m no longer among them, and start wandering back to me.
“Um, I… well…” Words, Betts. Use words.
“Wait up, guys!” Liv bursts from the crowd streaming out of the labs and offices, waving a handful of papers.
“Betts, hey! Are you coming too? Guess what? I—” Her words cut off as her chin hits the floor.
“What the fuck?” she whispers, her eyes darting back and forth as I stand there frozen like a statue between the two giant pillars that are Leo and Rime.
“Hello Liv,” Leo says pleasantly.
“Uh. Hi.”
Mia tells her, “We’re trying to get Betts to join us.” She turns back to me. “I mean, you are coming with us to Panama City, aren’t you? Because I seriously need a roomie.”
Jenna clasps her hands and pleads, “You have to save us from Lara.”
Are you kidding me? Lara’s still hanging around, trying to get back into Zander’s shorts?
Behind me, someone clears their throat, jolting me out of my stupor. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve got something I’ve gotta do right now, but we can talk later.”
I don’t have to look up to know there’s a showdown going on above our heads. Competitive, territorial energy hovers in the air like humidity on a summer day.
Braden snakes an arm around Liv’s waist, but she shakes him off.
“You saw your advisor?” I ask her, glancing at the papers Braden nearly knocked out of her hand.
She nods, but she’s looking past me.
From behind my shoulder, a deep voice croons, “You must be a friend of Betts. I’m Rime, Rime Goshawk.”
Liv’s full lips part and pink blooms on her cheeks.
Great.
“I’m... I’m Olivia.” She lets him take her hand.
“Liv is my roommate,” I tell whoever’s listening. “And best friend.”
Ever-polite, I point and smile at each O-Chi friend, introducing them in turn. Avery, god love her, steps up to greet them. And dear Aaron, of course. Braden nods coldly at Leo and outright glowers at Rime, while Topaz introduces herself and goes right back to looking bored.
With cheeks aching from my ‘casual’ smile, I ask Liv what happened with her advisor.
“I’ll tell you about it later. You look… busy.”
Pointing vaguely in the direction of the front doors, I say, “Yeah, I gotta go, but I’ll be back by dinner.”
“Okay, um, see you later.” She gives a little wave and turns to join the already retreating O-Chi’s.
Beside me, Rime stands stock-still, watching her walk away.
“When was this built again?” Rime asks as he strides down the center aisle, his eyes trained on the vaulted ceiling.
“1834,” Leo replies. “On the site of the original seminary chapel.”
Aaron slides into a pew. “And when was the seminary chapel built?”
“1788.”
They tore it down after a mere fifty years? I turn to Leo. “Do you know why they got rid of the first one?”
He shakes his head.
Avery crosses her arms and inspects a Corinthian column. “Maybe there was something structurally wrong with it.”
“Maybe it was haunted,” I say under my breath.
“Maybe,” Leo mumbles back.
We peel off one by one, each going in our own direction, following wherever our intuition leads.
I stand for a moment, taking in the entire space before I wander.
The chapel is small, as far as churches go.
I count the rows of pews: a mere fourteen, two rows flanking a center aisle, and each pew looking as if it could seat six adults.
Captivated by the stained glass windows glowing in the waning daylight, I meander down one of the side aisles. In the window furthest from the altar, three men who look more like medieval knights than biblical figures stand in front of—no, in—a fire, their arms held out in a gesture of offering.
Leo comes up beside me. “Shadrach, Abednego, and Meshach,” he says, peering up at the window. “Do you know the story?”
I shake my head.
“It’s from Daniel.”
“Are they in the fire?”
“Yeah. They were Israelite captives in Babylon, and they wouldn’t bow down to the Babylonian gods, so the king had them thrown into the furnace.” Leo points to a man off to the side, wearing long robes and a crown. “That’s Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon.”
“You’ve read the whole Bible, haven’t you?”
He shrugs modestly. “It’s fascinating. From an anthropological point of view.”
I’m pretty sure Leo the Hawthorn, faerie from Nàdar, knows more about us humans than we do.
“So what happened to the three guys?” I ask.
“God saved them from getting burned, just like they thought he would.” He points to the window again. “See that figure up there, behind them? That’s an angel.”
I fold my arms and peer up at the image.
The men are featureless, mere shapes suggesting their faces, clothes, and hair.
But I don’t need expressions to imagine how they would’ve felt.
Were they confident or afraid? When they realized they weren’t burning, did they feel triumphant or grateful?
Or were they more like I would’ve been: terrified, even in the face of a miracle, waiting for the axe to fall?
I ask Leo, “Do you think what they did was an act of courage—or an act of faith?”
He strokes his chin and thoughtfully tilts his head. “I don’t think you can have one without the other.”
I look back up at the window, but I’m not really seeing it. Leo’s right, as usual. It takes courage to trust. But you can’t be brave, either, without having faith in someone. Especially yourself.
Leo combs a hand through his hair, feathering the strands at his temples. “I’ll leave you alone so you can concentrate.”
Right. I have a job to do. “Did you find any clues at all when you were here before?”
“Honestly, no.”
Okay. Going in blind. “I’ll see what I can do.” Toying with my amethyst, I step around him and continue down the aisle.
“Betts,” he calls softly. “If you feel something bad, try harnessing it.”
“Harnessing it?”
“Yeah, just like you did with me.”
Okay, but why would I deliberately draw in toxic emotions?
“Do you understand what I mean?” He steps closer and points to his solar plexus. “Collect it, don’t feel it.”
I nod. His words make sense, but I don’t know how they translate into action.
I turn once again, but he snags my hand. “I’m here if you need me.”
Throat tight, I whisper back, “I know.”
When he releases me, I glance over my shoulder. Rime’s not watching, but guilt still prickles my skin. Because I don’t want Leo to leave my side.
I escape to the apse where it’s dark and cold, and that unnerving, otherworldly feeling I always get in old churches seeps through my skin to my bones.
A few minutes later, as I take a walk down the chapel’s center aisle, I sense other familiar emotions: joy, grief, desperation, and remorse.
Exactly what you’d expect to find in a church.
But the macguffin isn’t here; I’m sure of it.