Chapter 17
“They took these out of the catalogue?”
Alex wasn’t sure she had ever seen Dawes this angry.
Her cheeks were red, her neck blotchy. They had gathered back down in the parlor.
Tripp was tucked into the corner, gently nursing a juice box Alex assumed was full of blood.
He looked human again, but it was hard to forget the hissing monster that had lunged at Dawes.
“It’s worse than that,” Darlington conceded. “They took the items out of the armory.”
“I know!”
“You know?”
“Of course I know!” Dawes shouted. “I’ve been updating that catalogue for six years. I know its contents inside and out.”
“Then you know which of these is left in the armory?”
“No!” Dawes sat down hard. “I think they relabeled whichever relic it was. They created a false provenance to hide it. It’s … It’s ghastly. To tamper with the archive that way. I think I need a drink.”
Alex tried not to show her shock. Dawes tended to retreat to the kitchen when she needed comfort. “I … Sure. Should I open a bottle of something?”
“Give her whiskey,” said Turner. “Wine is too weak for the end of the world.”
“I’ll get it,” said Darlington. “Ice?”
Dawes put her head in her hands. “Neat, please.”
Darlington went to the sideboard and poured a generous shot of whiskey into a heavy tumbler.
Dawes took a long swig, then coughed. She dabbed her mouth with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Thank you,” she said primly. “That helps. When is the next Wolf’s Head ritual?”
“Thursday,” Darlington said. “Tomorrow.”
“Good. You can steal the Heart of Anubis then.”
“Anubis?” Alex asked.
Dawes held up one of the pages of the catalogue and gave it a furious shake.
“That has to be what this is. It’s sourced near Luxor, from the Valley of the Kings, so we know it’s Egyptian.
I saw it in the sarcophagus when Alex and I used the temple room.
It’s from an earlier period than the mummy, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
I just thought they’d put together a mishmash of artifacts for dramatic effect. ”
“Let me remind you,” said Turner, “we have no idea what might happen if we bring these things together. This could all be a demon trap.”
Alex thought of Theo standing at the gate to Kittscher’s house.
The memory belonged to her now: the smell of the sea air, the glass jar of shells at the door, the hope that came with beginnings.
Theo had been one of the good ones—kind, patient, full of love.
The demon had taken it all. She had covered her fear with jokes and silence and all the ballsy acts of daring she could muster, but what she’d seen in Kittscher’s house, what she’d done, had stripped away her armor.
“When Golgarot comes through that door, he’s going to find me and he’s going to haul me back to hell and clap a yoke on my neck.”
“That will not happen,” Darlington said, a snarl thrumming in his voice.
“Are you sure you can stop it? That any of us can? He’ll use me to wedge open the door to hell forever and then he’ll really start enjoying himself.” She jabbed her finger at the lost catalogue pages. “This is all we have, and if my choice is crossing my fingers or taking a swing?”
Turner dipped his chin in assent. “We take the swing. Every time.”
“Every time,” repeated Darlington, then Dawes.
“Every time,” whispered Tripp.
Turner shifted his focus back to Dawes. “You said something about Anubis. But the catalogue page just calls it the Heart of Gold.”
“It’s a pectoral,” Dawes explained. “Sort of a fancy ceremonial necklace, like a golden breastplate. I called it the Heart of Anubis because it’s…” She set down her glass.
“Dawes?”
“It’s emblazoned with a jackal.”
The Lethe hound. It was embroidered on the many pairs of Lethe sweats Alex had worn, a representation of the creatures who lived beneath Il Bastone, who had once come to her rescue.
“It belonged to Lethe,” said Alex. As much as anything in that armory belonged to them. Artifacts, relics, sacred objects, jewels, texts, all of it pillaged, pilfered, bartered, or bought from places she would never see.
Turner poured himself a drink. “You’re telling me they just stored this vital piece of a golem at Wolf’s Head and hoped no one would steal it or melt it down?”
“The societies’ tombs are stuffed with treasure,” said Darlington.
“And remember, there’s a new delegation every year, a new group of seniors.
All the pilgrims had to do was wait until summer and stash the breastplate in the sarcophagus.
The new delegates would never know something had changed and the alumni would just assume it was a new acquisition. ”
Alex considered the other items from the catalogue. “Where do we start on the rest? Scroll and Key doesn’t have a ritual scheduled until March, and the Locksmiths aren’t going to let us root around in their vaults after what we did last year.”
“What did you do?” asked Turner.
Alex tried not to squirm. “It was a minor explosion.”
“The real issue was the smell,” Dawes added helpfully.
Turner’s brows rose. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“I can get us into Scroll and Key,” said Darlington. “I know someone on their board. But it would help if we had any idea what we’re looking for.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Dawes. “What about Skull and Bones?”
“Tricky,” admitted Darlington. “The next prognostication isn’t until fall, and they’re protective of their collection since the Geronimo lawsuit.”
Tripp raised his hand. “I can help.” His lips were stained red like a kid sucking on a cherry Popsicle. “I still have my key.”
“Good,” said Dawes. “We’ll just have to figure out the right time and place.”
“Why did they do it?” Turner asked.
“All the delegates get keys,” said Tripp. “I meant to give mine back—”
“No, why did Harkness and Sterling and the pilgrims go to all this trouble? The library. The quadrangle. Men died raising those buildings.”
“The university was going to expand,” Darlington said. “They saw an opportunity.”
“But for what?” Turner pushed.
“To sail beyond the sunset,” he said quietly. “Harkness had lost his brother. Sterling knew his fortune couldn’t buy immortality. They needed to see what was on the other side of the Veil.”
“Was it worth it?” Turner asked. “All that blood and treasure? They cut a hole in the fabric of the universe. You don’t patch that up with a little needle and thread. Would you have done it?”
“To see into the mystery of everything?” Darlington nodded once. “Yes.”
Dawes sucked on her lower lip, then said, “I think so. I would have been scared, but I think I would have gone. The opportunity for research alone—”
“Nope,” Tripp said and took a long slurping drag on his blood box.
Alex rose and grabbed up the glasses to take into the kitchen. She knew the others were waiting on her answer, but she had nothing to say. For the right price, for the right person, she would cross any line.