We ducked behind a massive bronze statue of some long-dead founder who looked like he’d have sued someone forbreathing wrong. A flashlight beam sliced through the dark, creeping closer.
The guard’s radio crackled. “All clear in the east wing.”
Boots thudded closer. I held my breath as the light skimmed past, so close it brushed over my shoe, then turned away.
We didn’t move until the sound of footsteps faded.
“Ten out of ten,” Jace whispered. “Almost peed myself.”
“Please don’t,” Parker hissed.
We started forward again, slower this time, every creak of the floor sounding like a siren.
At the end of the hall, a gold nameplate caught the faint light: Dr.Alfred Harrington, Dean. The letters gleamed like someone polished them every day.
“Showtime,” Parker said under his breath as Jace crouched by the lock.
“Your two-minute Google search didn’t happen to tell you if there was an alarm in his office, did it?” I asked sarcastically.
Parker shrugged without looking away from Jace. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
I exhaled. “Super reassuring.”
A heartbeat later, there was a softclick. The latch gave way.
“I’m such an asset to this organization,” Jace muttered arrogantly. “Riley’s going to be so proud of me.”
I patted him on the shoulder like the good boy he was, and we moved into the room.
Harrington’s office was everything you’d expect of a man who collected power: a massive mahogany desk, two leather chairs that looked expensive enough to scold you, bookcases wall to wall, and a portrait of some mustached benefactor glaring down at us like he smelled trouble.
“Alright,” Parker said in a low voice. “We’re looking for the ledger. Probably old. Possibly framed or locked up.”
“That’s a lot to go off of,” I said dryly.
Parker shot me an annoyed look.
Jace drifted to the bar cart, lifting a bottle and sniffing like he was auditioning for a liquor commercial. “The man’s got bourbon older than us. This is the good stuff.”
“Step away from it,” I hissed.
“Fine.” He put the bottle down with exaggerated care. “But if we die tonight, it would be better to come back as a drunk ghost than a sober one. I’m just saying.”
I didn’t bother responding to that one.
I started with the drawers. There was old correspondence, a fountain pen with a nib the width of a toothpick, receipts for donations that could buy a small country, and an absurd large stash of peppermints. Parker’s hand skimmed along the spines on the shelves.
“Nothing,” he said tightly.
Jace bent toward a glass-fronted cabinet that stood between the bookcases. The cabinet was bolted to the wall, glass domed in front of a velvet-lined shelf. A small brass plaque readCOLLECTION. He peered closer and whispered, “Maybe he keeps it with his…”
His elbow clipped a decorative globe sitting on a side table. The thing toppled, hit the floor with a heavythud, and rolled once before stopping against the baseboard.
Everything went louder for a second. We all froze.
“Jace,” Parker breathed.
“It was an accident!” Jace hissed, getting immediately defensive. “It—Look, it was top-heavy, okay? Physics!”
