Page 8 of Coerced

Chessie followed her, and Gigi dropped Kerry’s hand and left, too, but I put my hand on his arm.

“Are you going to be okay in here?” I searched his eyes. “If you want to leave, I’ll go with you.”

“I’m not a baby!” he grumbled. “And you don’t need to leave if I do.”

“I know you’re not a baby,” I kept my tone even anddidn’tsmile. “But I don’t want to stay here without you. I don’t like this place.”

“Nothing will touch you while I’m here, and I ain’t going anywhere.”

He did that little half-smile, the one where the unscarred side of his mouth curled up, and my heart leapt. I don’t think he realized how adorable he was when he did that, and I wasn’t ever going to tell him because then he’d stop doing it.

We joined the group as Ms. Chapman approached a curved desk with a nameplate that read, “The Keeper.” An older lady with iron-gray hair stood up and greeted us in a chirpy voice.

“Hello, children! Welcome to the Repository. I hope you enjoy your visit. To maintain your sanity and avoid any loss of life or limb, look with your eyes and not your hands. I won’t be held accountable if you’re maimed. Have a lovely visit, dears!”

Maimed?

I blinked.

“I think she’s been down here a little too long,” Gigi leaned across Kerry to whisper, and Chessie and I giggled.

Ms. Chapman led us around the side of the desk and stopped at a low counter. There was a large plastic bin full of badges on lanyards and she began passing them out. When everyone had theirs, she lifted hers up for us to see.

“Rule Three: You must wear one of these at all times in the Repository. Press your right thumb against the badge now, please, and give it a small jolt of your power. It will imprint your unique signature into the badge. Should an accident occur, we will be able to identify you more quickly.”

“Wait.” Gigi raised her eyebrows. “So these are like what?Toe tags?”

“Well, if you want to put it like that.” Ms. Chapman frowned and gave her The Look.

Once we all had followed her instructions, Ms. Chapman pointed to several metal and glass boxes mounted on the walls at about hip-height.

“These are like fire extinguishers. In case of a rogue artifact, open the case and remove the red flask.” She made sure we were all paying attention as she showed us a small glass bottle. “Uncork the stopper and throw or pour the gelid inside onto the artifact to freeze it until a curator can respond.”

“How do we contact a curator?” someone asked.

“Good question,” Ms. Chapman nodded as she placed the bottle back in its box. “Removing the cork from the flask triggers a silent alarm to alert them that trouble is afoot. They are quite quick at responding, although the gelid can freeze anything for several hours. Now, let’s move on to see some of the artifacts.”

Ms. Chapman showed us amusing curiosities and flashy relics from every time period. There were prehistoric blood-lust weapons, a medieval book bound in human skin that recorded your thoughts rather than your words, Renaissance armor that wounded the wearer, a board game that inspired its players to make money at the expense of all else, and a modern cell phone made into a death trap with a distraction curse.

“Like they aren’t already,” Gigi muttered, and I had to agree.

Not all of the artifacts had an evil origin, though. Some started out with the best intentions. For example, Ms. Chapman pointed out a salt shaker Blessed with happiness, but it was too powerful and overwhelmed humans, sending them dancing in the streets or laughing off the edge of a cliff.

“Why aren’t these things destroyed?” Chessie demanded. “Why keep them if they’re so dangerous?”

“Welearnfrom them, Ms. Catt.” Ms. Chapman frowned. “We can teach future generations with the actual item, rather than simply tell tales that sound far-fetched to young ears. You know the quote about those who don’t remember the mistakes of the past.”

Kerry nudged me with his elbow.

“You’re doomed to repeat them,” I told him softly.

“Also,” Ms. Chapman went on, “every time a demon or one of the Fallen imbues an artifact with its essence, it weakens itself. Even the strongest might give away too much in this way and lose stature as their power wanes.”

“Why do they still enchant items then?” Chessie voiced my own confusion. “If they know it could ultimately weaken them?”

“Demons need souls to hold their rank,” Kerry answered before Ms. Chapman could. “The more souls it claims, the more people it enslaves, the higher the demon rises in the ranks. And it don’t take much essence. Like a fingernail clipping. It’s nothing to them.”

Ms. Chapman gave us a short nod, then headed back to the main group.

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