Bet. “He knows it’s near the racing stables, though. That’s how his goons found our boardinghouse. He was looking for us near the stables.”
Pax nods. “Any other ideas?”
We’re quiet before William says, “Les carottes sont cuites. I suppose we must return to the Bureau. We have nowhere else to go.”
Spirit jolts me with an annoying shock, the sensation they’ve used over the years that meansPAY ATTENTION YOU NEED THIS INFORMATION. I used to loathe the sensation—a searing-hot flash, momentarily disorienting me. But now I smile, grateful.
We have nowhere else to go.
Those words. It might’ve been me remembering our earlier conversation, or it might’ve been Spirit repeating her words back to me. A memory or a voice—I still cannot tell which is which. I might never discover the difference. I’m beginning tothink it doesn’t matter. Perhaps for me, their voiceismine—our voices are one and the same. I’m beginning to see that as the gift that it is.
And I know I’m right, regardless.
“I know where to find Kiyoko.”
“The library is where you go when you have nowhere else to go. She said that. It’s where we’ll find Kiyoko.”
We stand at the corner of Fifth and Forty-Second, near the lion known as Leo Astor. The sun peeks over the buildings to the east, illuminating the front of the New York Public Library in a soft, orange glow. Otherworldly.
Light does that.
It turns the ordinary into the extraordinary.
We wait on the vast, wide steps until the building caretaker unlocks the rotating front doors at 10 a.m. How long have I been awake? When we hear the click of the lock, we whir through the doors and I dash to find the book IknowKiyoko has sought out.
A quick flip through the card catalog tells me exactly where it is. Nirav and Pax follow as I weave through Astor Hall to the north stairwell, past the telephone booths, past the elevators. Up one story to the nonfiction collection. Halfway around the room, fingertips skimming the wrought iron bookshelves.
There!
Hopeless: A History of the Hope Diamond.
I pull the book from the shelf. The pages are warped around an object. A small brass key drops from between the pages, these pages that detail just how cursed the Hope Diamond is, the gem we stole mere hours ago.
I hold up the key in the dim light of the Reading Room.
Remember how powerful it would feel, to own a key?
Like every lock a possibility.
“A key?” I ask. “There must be a million locks in New York City. How are we supposed to know where this key fits?”
THE HIEROPHANT
THE 5TH MAJOR ARCANA CARD
A person sits regally on a throne, holding a triple scepter that symbolizes body, mind, and spirit.
Two keys lie crossed like bones on the lush carpet before them.
Upright: symbolic significance, mercy, goodness, inspiration
Reversed: bewilderment, overkindness, weakness
It is me and my dear Stella, you see. I am the lock and Stella is the key.
I’ve been the lock my whole life: trying to protect my younger sister, keep order. Control. Safety. Protection. Stubborn and stalwart—that’s me.
Stella has always been the opening, the receiving, the freedom. My Stella is the correct pitch of music. She unlocks the code, the map. She is the item that is essential and important. Key.
