Dangerous Thoughts

Chapter 25

"It's possible," Charles said. "I'm just wondering why they would choose to go to those buildings again? It's where you found them. They must know the location's been compromised."

"I think it was a last-minute switch," Lillian said, crossing her arms against the nighttime chill. "We ruined their original plan when we found John and Anne and rescued Elijah. They likely needed to find a new meeting spot fast and settled for the docks. And once they had their victim—"

"I'm sorry," Foote interrupted, looking pale. "Victim?" His grey eyes darted between the four of them. "And an alibi... What's going on?" He looked between Cecilia and James. "You told me you were planning to join Mister Monroe's game?"

James took his hand. "I'm sorry I lied, but we don't have time to explain," he said. "Just know that things are very complicated and very dangerous."

"James, you need to tell me what's going on—"

"We don't have time," Cecilia said. Her tone was curt, skillfully displaying the power of a lady of the house. "All you need to know is that if we don't come back within an hour, you need to alert the authorities. Immediately. You can give them this as proof," she said, passing him the yellow memory. "And send them to the row of abandoned buildings on the waterfront."

"I..." Foote started, staring down at the vial in his hand, but then James grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. Charles found himself staring—it wasn't a gentle peck, but a rough, passionate kiss full of longing and fear. When James finally pulled away, Andrew's eyes were bright with surprise—and worry.

"See you soon," James said. Charles could hear the lie in his voice—the waver in James' tone that signified he knew there was a chance he wasn't coming back—but Charles didn't correct him.

Lillian had already started off into the darkness. "Follow me!" she cried, and just like that, the four of them were off, leaving a stunned Foote behind.

Lillian moved quickly, leading them along the waterfront until they reached the large complex of abandoned buildings. They were an eerie sight this late at night, illuminated only by the fragile light of a crescent moon. Lillian brought them to a half-open door hidden by a pile of rotted wood, and once they had descended into the first basement, they began trekking through the maze-like underground passageways linking each of the buildings together.

For a while, Charles wondered if they had made a mistake. What if Monroe was actually inside that estate? What if they were wasting the precious time they had left searching for Juliette here? But eventually, something started prickling in his ears. It took him a moment to realize what it was: distant chanting. It didn't sound like English, nor like the ancient speech of spells. It was a guttural language, with hisses, spitting, and syllables that made his stomach clench. If there was magick afoot, it was of the dark and ancient variety.

With an exchange of nervous glances, they moved into a new formation. Cecilia traded places with Lillian so that the Monroe heir led the pack. Lillian meanwhile reached into her bag and withdrew the small invisibility device they had taken from the orphanage. As she turned the crank, James and Charles each placed a hand on her shoulder, and together the three of them disappeared.

They walked like this for a while, following the sound of the chanting which grew louder and louder, until they came upon a door. It was nearly shaking from the sound behind it, and Charles knew without a doubt that the cultists were on the other side. He watched as Cecilia took a steadying breath, preparing herself for what was about to happen, and then pushed her way inside.

When the door flung open, Charles saw the same dark room from Lillian's memory: a small space with a dirt floor and several flickering candles. And standing in the room were eleven figures in dark robes. They had been chanting with their eyes towards the front of the room, but as soon as the door had opened, they had refocused their attention on the intruders—or rather, intruder. From their perspective, only Cecilia had barged in unannounced.