Page 14 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 2

I drew out a scrap of paper with a small map drawn on it, labeled in Gabriel’s careful, angular handwriting. Downstairs, two lefts, first door on my right. A guard station was marked with a red dot, and the likely patrol routes with a red dashed line. I can do this.

The curse started to prick at me, trying to make me push more and more power into my spell. I reined it in. I needed to stay in control.

The upside of my ugly tourist shoes was that they were basically silent on the polished marble stairs leading down toward the vault. I crept down the hallway. Voices came from behind the door, and I held my breath as I walked past. I reached the first left-hand turn that split off into a part of the citadel that felt older. The rooms I passed had thick oak doors, black with age, with elaborate fittings. Not the expensive faux-Victorian stuff I sometimes saw when dealing with rich clients, but the real deal.

Unease twisted in my gut. I’d heard that some witches got omens about the future, like a feeling of impending doom before something bad happened. Unfortunately, that made it impossible to tell when I was just nervous and when something awful was coming. I decided to assume it was merely nerves. Anyone would’ve been if they were in my horrible, horrible shoes.

Another left. Then, down the hall, footsteps. I pressed myself against the wall, throwing more power into my charm. A guard meandered down the hallway, one hand on the lump at his hip under his jacket.

Don’t see me. I’m not here. I’m just a piece of wallpaper. Keep on walking.

He was almost level with me now. One step, then another, and he was right next to me.

Please, please, please, don’t see me.

The guard took another half-step, then paused, frowning. My heart was rabbiting in my chest. He dug into his suit jacket and pulled out his phone, which he unlocked with a chuckle. He tapped at the screen, then held it to his ear.

“Hey,” he said. “Got your text. Can’t believe you take pictures like that at work, babe.”

Someone spoke on the other end, and he laughed.

“Yeah, my shift’s almost done. I guess I could, y’know, find somewhere to appreciate these properly…” He started walking again, shoes squeaking against the floor.

I let my head fall back against the wall in relief, blowing out the breath I’d been holding. “Gross,” I mouthed to myself.

I crept to the first door on the right. It was so heavily warded, just walking into the space around it made my eyes sting. Reaching out, I felt the shape of the enchantments, then forced back a swear. Each enchantment was complicated and fiddly, the work of a couple of different people layered together. I could take them apart, but it would need all my focus. Focus I wouldn’t have if I kept up my hiding spell.

I would have to drop it if I wanted to get into the vault, and that would leave me right in the middle of one of the patrol routes with no cover.

Dropping the spell, I threw myself into unraveling the wards. Each one was booby-trapped—if I wasn’t careful, I’d set off alarms, probably all over the wing. I wished I’d had the foresight to ask how much time passed between patrols. If one guard had just gone past, surely that meant I had a little time? There was no point in worrying about it now. Focus. That was what I needed.

Or I could blast the vault apart. Throw enough magic at it until it cracked open, take what I wanted, and run. But no, that wasn’t me, that was the curse trying to pull my magic back into itself. I gritted my teeth. One of the wards split apart under my hands, then another. I could do this the right way without losing control of myself again.

I felt like I was defusing a bomb, or performing complex surgery. Sweat beaded on my forehead and stung my eyes, but I couldn’t look away and risk breaking my concentration. One by one, the spells came apart. Just one left, but it was a doozy. This one would need patience more than focus. If I fed it a slow and steady stream of power, I could overwhelm it and shut it down without triggering the alarm. If I pulled back before I shut it down, though, the thing would go off immediately.

Wiping my forehead with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I got to work, channeling energy into the delicate webbing of the enchantment. Then I heard the sound I’d been dreading since I came down here: footsteps. A guard turned the corner at the far end of the hallway. I couldn’t stop what I was doing. I couldn’t hide, and I couldn’t use my magic to conceal myself. I clenched my jaw.

The man was tall and reedy, with short blond hair, and a slightly piggy nose. I saw the exact moment when he spotted me. His eyes went wide, and he quickened his pace, heading straight for me.

“Miss,” he barked. “Miss, you can’t be down here.”

I gave him an embarrassed smile.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, doing my best vaguely Midwestern accent. “I was looking for the bathroom and got super turned around.” Come on, come on, I thought at the ward. Break, you bastard. “I don’t even know where my tour group got off to. Could ya help me find them, sir?”

“This is a restricted area,” he snapped. He was almost on me now, maybe two yards away.

“Aw, jeez, is it? Just my luck. Honestly, it’s amazing I don’t get lost in my own house.” I laughed, hoping the edge of mania would make me sound more like I needed the bathroom. Just a little more time. Just a little more magic, and then…

“Miss—” the guard said, reaching out a meaty hand to grab my arm. Just before he clamped down on me, I felt the gentle pop of the ward giving way.

“Finally,” I said, and blasted him full in the chest with all the magic that had built up and tried to find an outlet.

The man flew backward and skidded down the hallway, falling into a crumpled heap. He groaned faintly but didn’t get up.

“Sorry!” I whisper-shouted, then threw open the vault door and darted inside.

The vault was smaller than I’d expected. In my head, I’d pictured something huge and vaulted with rows and rows of dusty shelves, like the warehouse from Indiana Jones. Instead, I was in a small room, maybe eight feet on a side. Each of the gray metal walls were lined with little drawers, neatly labelled with a tag in tidy copperplate handwriting. I checked the map Gabriel had sketched me again and scanned over the drawers until I found the one with the label that matched the code he’d scribbled in the corner.

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