I blinked a few times.
“If there were no lock, the door would open right up, yes?” Xan asked.
“Oh.” I snapped. “I’ve never tried to focus it like that… what if the entire door goes?”
Xan shrugged. “Then I guess Professor Holiday has been the victim of a harmless prank, and the Architect can deal with him.”
“I guess the Architect has to be useful for something,” I grumbled.
Xan bit out an awkward laugh, and I cringed. Xan was here to raise himself in the eyes of the man I just insulted.
Before I could put my foot further into my mouth, I focused on the curved wrought iron doorknob. A large keyhole rested at the bottom, like some crazyAlice in Wonderlandscene. Taking a deep breath, I called on my Majekah and placed my pointer finger against the hole.
The familiar cool sensation of my Majekah coming to life ran down my spine. I pictured a lock in my mind. Except I didn’t really know what a lock looked like. What was I even doing? The moment my finger touched the handle, it broke into a million tiny pieces and fell to the ground, along with every bit of metal attached to it.
Xan yanked me back just as the loose planks crashed down where I’d been standing. A dull boom echoed through the still night. I landed against his solid chest, heart pounding. In the distance, a few voices fell silent before picking up like nothing had happened.
Xan’s heart raced with mine. His arm still rested across my chest, holding me close. The scent from the same soap Ezra used curled in my nose. Not that I doubted his story, but yeah. They were an item. More inappropriate disappointment pulled me out of the moment. I needed to focus on getting them back on the right track and nip this crush in the bud.
“I guess we just go in then?” I whispered.
As if realizing he still held me, Xan dropped his arm and stepped toward the door, maneuvering me to his back. The glow of his gaze intensified. “Stay close. And follow the plan. Don’t touch anything unless you feel drawn to it.”
A shiver ran down my back as a healthy dose of fear focused my thoughts. We were breaking into a monster’s home, and not just any monster, one who refused to die when the world changed.
By the time I stepped through Professor Holiday’s door, I’d prepared myself for Frankenstein’s lab. Instead, a wide entryway with a few coatracks and the curved handle of an umbrella poking out beside them looked more normal than anything else I’d seen here. A couple pairs of shoes sat in the shadows near a worn mat that read,Wipe your feet or else.
A larger door loomed ahead. It creaked open with a long squeal, releasing a wall of smells—raw meat, oil, chemicals, and burning hair. I gagged while Xan grimaced.
After adjusting to the foul air, we stepped forward. Two balls of hooded baby-blue mage light formed in Xan’s palms, and he floated one to me.
I’d studied the layout of The Old Fortress. Its rooms looped in a circle, all branching from one massive central space. My small mage light illuminated rows of shelves on either side of the door, stretching up toward the vaulted ceilings. They were packed with color and texture, and it took me a moment to realize what I was looking at.
Junk. Literally. There wasn’t a better word for it. Lego bricks were crammed in next to a jar of eyes floating in greenish liquid. A set of porcelain cats peeked out from behind a teddy bear, which sat on a hammer with a bright orange handle. I followed the shelves to the corner. Each step away from Xan dimmed my light.
Nothing pulled me like the sensation a few days ago. Not the stuff from my time, or the few bits and bobs that looked more magical.
Xan sucked in a sharp breath, and I turned toward the center of the room. A massive table loomed, piled with something just as large. I stepped closer. Our lights merged, revealing a tangle of wires, fur, and who-knew-what. Two long, shapeless bundles sprawled across the table, joining together at something eerily torso-like. The entire thing reminded me of a child’s drawing of legs.
“He’s building something,” Xan said softly, reaching out to touch it before pulling back. “Something modeled after the human form.”
My heart thumped in my chest.
“Is that bad?” I asked.
Xan shook his head. “I don’t know. It smells bad. But I think that’s the combination of everything he’s using. Look.” He gestured. “This is the same hydraulic system we use on the train, crude oil, and magic with no piping, but it’s attached to”—Xan grimaced—“I think that’s multiple cow chests sewn together.” Xan’s gaze darkened, his voice cutting like stone. “It better be. I’m changing the plan.” The air seemed to tighten around him. His hands stilled, his spine straightened, and that easy warmth drained away. Power filled the space instead, pressing against my skin until I stood straighter without thinking. “I need to see the rest of this place. Now.”
With my heart thumping, I reached out and tried to take his hand, but he moved me to his back and jerked his chin as if telling me he’d take the lead. I blinked in confusion.
“Just stay behind me,” Xan said, not looking at me at all. “I need to understand.”
Four doors, besides the one we came through, led out of the central room. We took the left and ended up in a grimy kitchen. After three more massive, barely used rooms, we finally found a bedroom with an oversized closet packed with stuffed animals. A bathroom branched off to one side, and I shook my head hard.
Xan nodded in understanding and went in alone.
He came out a minute later, shuddering. “I can never unsee that,” he said, then smirked. “Still, poor hygiene’s a personal problem, not mine.”
I managed to grin with him before my smile fell. “What are we looking for?”
