On the count of three, I flung open the Jeep door and slammed it behind me, before tearing off down the street. Rain battered against me as I sprinted down West Ash Street, on the south side of Waterfront Park. The park was empty of the usual parents and toddlers, the playground shining in the downpour. See, I was right—really freaking creepy. I half expected a terrifying clown to appear in the shadows of the distant trees, holding up a red balloon and telling me I’d float too. It was definitely the weather for it.
Edging around the unsettling holes of the city’s storm drains, I sprinted until I reached the glass refuge by the bus stop. Wade ran up a moment later, his open jacket and shirt soaked through and his hair dripping. It was impossible not to stare at the ripple of lean muscles beneath the drenched fabric. My gaze jolted away as I realized I’d been staring a couple minutes too long, prompting a smirk to tug at his lips.
“I don’t mind you looking,” he said.
“I wasn’t,” I shot back. “I was just worried one of your nipples might put my eye out.”
A laugh erupted from the back of his throat, and I turned around, leading the way down the staircase toward the supposed public restroom. “Aperi Portam,” I muttered, then pushed through the door.
I didn’t think I’d ever get over the awe-inspiring gateway between the real world and this hidden underworld, which sat right on top of Waterfront Park, completely secret from the humans. Ahead lay the main “strip,” the whole place laid out like a mall, with impressive steel-and-glass cubes on either side, forming the pathway itself. Even though it was dark out, I could still see the fairytale glow of the city in the near distance, visible through the interdimensional windows that lined the far wall of every shop and bar and restaurant. Above us, the storm clouds continued to swell, like rising waves on a turbulent ocean.
“You know, we could’ve come in through the Maritime entrance,” Wade said, as our feet squelched on the smooth, pale gray floor.
I shot him a look. “Now you tell me?”
“I tried to before, but you’d already jumped out of the car.”
Ignoring him, I pressed on down the main path, peering into the shop windows and admiring the beautiful displays. Most of the stores were closed for the day, but the bars and cafés were just getting into full swing. We passed Moll Dyer’s, my eyes drawn to the pretty gold cursive letters that ran across the lintel. The Rag Team had taken me there during my first week at the coven, and the good memories rushed back as I admired the cute terrace. Passing the Black Crow, however, my thoughts turned suddenly to Finch—this tracer spell seemed to be giving me a nasty case of déjà vu.
Shrugging it off, I carried on walking, letting Wade take the lead. He appeared to know where we were going. However, halfway down one of the side paths, I almost skidded to a halt as my eyes found the familiar name of Cabot’s Esprit Reliquary. I remembered the promise I’d made to myself, to investigate the bracelet on Imogene’s forearm. If anyone knew about an object like that, it had to be Cabot.
“What’s up?” Wade asked, walking back toward me.
“Nothing, I just need to have a quick look in here,” I replied, stepping up to the door. I pushed on the handle, only to find it locked. The lights inside were dim, protection charms glowing faintly in the gloom.
“Looks like they’ve closed up for the day.”
I cast him a withering look while I moved away from the door and continued down the path. “You don’t say.”
“What did you want from there, anyway?” he asked.
“I just wanted to browse, see what they had. There’s a ton of cool things in there.” I stopped mid-step. “Where are we going, anyway? This is just a dead-end.” I gestured to a set of doors up ahead, an emergency exit sign glowing red above it.
“Haven’t you learned anything about magicals?” He kept on walking until he reached the emergency exit. Gripping the bar, he muttered something under his breath. A moment later, the bar gave way, the door opening onto a whole other section of Waterfront Park without setting off any kind of alarm. Puzzled, I followed him through.
There were no interdimensional windows here, only what appeared to be an empty maintenance room with a bunch of coolant pipes and six manhole covers in the ground. Dumpsters lined the back wall, a rotten aroma that made my nose wrinkle drifting off them.
“Dennehy’s World of Wonders,” Wade announced, pointing to one of the manhole covers.
“Sounds like a bad sideshow.”
He grinned. “Nope, but it’s the place we need. Come on.” He lifted the cover and held it open for me. Trying to ignore the still-wet fabric of his t-shirt, knowing it made me look like a total perv, I squeezed past him and clambered down into the dank space. A ladder led into the pitch-blackness below. Figuring that was where we were supposed to go, I began my descent.
Suddenly, the darkness dissipated. A wide platform sat below me, a bright light guiding me as I jumped off and landed with a thud on solid ground. Waiting for Wade, I walked over to the central balustrade and looked down. Vertigo hit me like a brick. I shouldn’t have done that. A spiral staircase twisted down the center of an impossibly tall room, bringing to mind the interior of a very weird, inverted lighthouse. Bright orbs in jeweled hues hung in clusters from every available space, each one glowing with rainbow light that cast a shard of color downward, creating a kaleidoscope of illumination. Balconies ran along the edge of every floor, while three or four doorways branched off from each level.
And absolutely everywhere—leaving me pretty freaking overwhelmed—was covered in boxes and cubbies and shelves, filled to bursting with weird and wonderful items.
A moment later, Wade joined me. He looked antsy, and I could feel the concern churning inside him. Well, well, well, it looks like Mr. Goody Two-Shoes is breaking some rules.
“We’re supposed to find cypress leaves, wolfsbane, and mercury in here? Don’t you have a grocery store for all this stuff?” I whispered, fearing a salesperson might suddenly pop out from one of the million boxes.
He nodded. “There is one in Waterfront Park, but they scan your ID when you buy it. It’ll show up on the coven logs, and I thought it would be best if nobody knew what we were up to.”
“Look at you, being a rebel for once.”
He scowled. “Can you not? I feel bad enough about it as it is.”
I chuckled and turned back to the immense space. “You realize we have to get this spell done pretty quick, right? I don’t have two years to go sifting through all this crap.”
He nodded. “Relax, there’s a knack to it. I’ve been here a few times before, to help out a couple of desperate friends.”
“You better have that knack, or I’m out of here,” I replied. “I’d rather sneak into the repository than look through every box in this place. Jeez, have you seen how far this goes?” I gazed right down to the bottom, feeling a bit sick at the thought of heading down there.
“I do, don’t worry.” He set off toward the wrought-iron staircase, the whole thing juddering under his weight. Well, isn’t that comforting?
I followed him down, glancing at as many objects as possible. It was pretty fascinating, once I got over the initial shock of seeing so much stuff piled everywhere. There were rooms and rooms full of it, the whole place crammed to the rafters. How anyone could find anything in here was beyond me, but I figured it was probably a good laugh to spend time in here, uncovering hidden gems.
On the fourth floor down, I paused in front of a small cubbyhole that had been cut into the wall of the shop. A single ring sat on a scarlet cushion inside it. Getting a closer look, I realized the ring resembled a claddagh—a symbolic ring, shaped like two hands holding a heart, with a crown on top. I’d heard about them a while ago and knew they were popular in Irish culture. This one was similar, though the heart was cut from a ruby, and instead of two hands, two arrows had been carved into the silver band.
A small label stood next to it: The Matchmaker. Point it at the one you love. If sparks fly, give them a try. If they do not, leave them to rot.
I couldn’t help myself—they’d put the energy into making a rhyme and everything. Reaching out for the ring, I slipped it onto my middle finger and admired it in the dancing light of the bazaar. The ruby was beautiful, the facets glinting this way and that.
“Harley, I found us some dried cypress leaves,” Wade said, brandishing a clear bag of withered foliage.
I turned in his direction, startled by his voice. Before I could say a word, a mini-explosion erupted from my middle finger, bright red sparks darting out of the ruby. Clamping my other hand over it in a vain attempt to stop the miniature fireworks display, I winced as the tiny sparks singed my palm.
“What was that?” Wade asked.
“Nothing!” Turning around, I tore off the ring and stuffed it back onto its cushion. I guess that answers that question.
“Seriously, what was that?” He stepped toward me, undeterred.
“Nothing, honestly.” Blushing furiously, I shoved him back down the stairs, praying he hadn’t gotten close enough to read the label. “Come on, we don’t have any time to waste on silly trinkets. We still have to find wolfsbane and mercury.”
As I trailed Wade down to the tenth floor—or negative tenth—of the lighthouse, a figure burst out of a doorway to the right, almost colliding with the two of us. She froze in an expression of panic, hurriedly putting her hands behind her back before Wade or I could see what she was buying. In the seconds that ticked by, a silent understanding passed between the three of us. If you’re out here, we already know you’re buying something you shouldn’t be. We’re in the same boat. If you don’t say anything, neither will we.
“Preceptor Bellmore, what an unexpected pleasure,” Wade said, breaking the tension.
“Yes… an unexpected pleasure,” she replied stiffly. Her big, peculiar amber eyes glanced over Wade’s shoulder, evidently looking for the exit. The tattoos on her neck and face shifted, revealing the nervous clench of her jaw. With her being a Shapeshifter, I couldn’t read her emotions, but I didn’t need to be an Empath to know she was keeping a secret—and a big one at that. It was written all over her face. I mean, come on, could you look any guiltier?