“Demons,” I say, before explaining Elsie’s suggestion.
“That’s a lot of files,” she says, her usual optimism starting to wither.
“I know, but I don’t know what other choice I have.”
“Hm,” she hums. “Hang on.”
I pace as I wait, picking things up and setting them down arbitrarily as I look for something to occupy my mind. I’ve moved a few books and countless pens before Kitty’s voice comes back, a little brighter than before.
“I know a guy,” she chirps, the smile in her voice unmistakable. “He can’t pull them for you, but he says he can look at them if you can narrow it down.”
Narrow it down? How am I supposed to do that?
I’m pacing again, picking up a stray shoe here and there.
“The wards at Crescent House keep an energy log, right? That’s how the inquisition knows who was there?”
“Yep,” Kitty answers.
“Can you?—”
“Cross-reference with the guest list from Fright Night?” she asks, following my logic before I can get the words out. “Sure!”
I turn, excited by the prospect of a real lead, and ram my hip into the desk, knocking the giant tome of a book Treehorn gave me onto the floor. It catches my heel as it lands, and I curse.
“Ah, shit!”
“What’s wrong?” Kitty squeaks, a little panicked. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “I’m fine. It’s just this stupid book.”
I pick it up, hefting it back onto the desk and turning it over right side up, fingering the raised lettering. The old, worn leather feels warm under my palm, and Elsie’s words echo in my mind.
Wouldn’t you do anything?
“Actually, Kitty…Can you meet me at the library? I think I need your help with something.”
Chapter28
Committing You to Memory
ELLIOT
I sitfor another six hours before the door opens again. This time it isn’t Almar or Tree. But a tall inquisitor I’ve seen before.
“Mr. Cross,” Malictus greets me. “You’re free to go.”
He holds the door open and gestures silently for me to exit.
I don’t waste time acknowledging him. I simply rise from my seat, and I don’t look back as I continue through the door, down the many vacant hallways, past Mrs. Gibbons, and out onto the empty steps.
I shield my eyes as I step out into the evening sun, and I pause, searching, as a familiar honied fragrance floats by on the breeze.
She’s leaning against a low wall a few paces in front of the steps, picking at a stray thread in her skirt. She hasn’t noticed me yet, and I take the opportunity to watch her as I haven’t in quite some time.
I prefer to catch her when she’s not looking, but lately, whenever I’m staring, she’s been staring back. It makes it hard to reallyseeher.
The setting sun blankets her in orange and purple rays, making her brown skin look lit from within.
