“I’ve never flown.”
“Really? Wow. Okay, well, this machine scans your magickal signature and matches it to your records, making sure you’re authorized to enter. Only one person at a time can enter. If the scanner picks up anyone else’s signature along with yours, it won’t grant access. It’s to ensure no one is coerced to let someone else inside, or tries to smuggle someone in. You have your phone on you, right?”
I pat my back pocket and nod.
“Good. Go on ahead.”
I step inside the booth and stand on the footprints helpfully painted on the platform, holding my breath. No more than one second later, the machine beeps and the lights inside turn green, a disembodied voice telling me to step forward.
Inside my back pocket, my phone buzzes with a text.
“That’s your security code,” he says. “Enter it on the touchscreen outside the door.”
I pull out my phone and tap in the ten-digit number.
“Is that it?” I ask. “No blood samples, social security number, signing away my firstborn, anything like that?”
Still on the other side of the booth, Kirin laughs. “Your magickal signature is all we really need to identify you. The rest is just another layer of security. Go on in—I’m right behind you.”
I open what I hope is the last door on this little adventure and step inside. Seconds later, Kirin follows me in.
Rather than the dark, dusty room I associate with a word likearchives,we’re standing in a large, bright white room that looks like a high-tech science lab, with gleaming metal tables, lightboxes, microscopes, and other equipment I can’t even begin to identify. Two of the four walls are lined with glass-walled chambers full of file cabinets in all shapes and sizes.
“The documents kept in the archives are extremely rare, extremely valuable, and most importantly, extremely dangerous. Everything is stored in environmentally controlled file cabinets behind the glass, taken out only for an hour or two at a time. The documents stored in the red cabinets can only be handled while wearing a mask and gloves, which can be found in the supply closet over there. We won’t need those today, though.”
He invites me to take a seat at one of the tables, then heads into one of the glass rooms and retrieves a stack of thin, leather-bound notebooks.
“All of our work must be completed here,” he says. “We won’t be able to remove anything from the archives—not even your mother’s notes and sketchbooks. You’ll also need to lock up any translations you’ve made in the black cabinets over there. You’ll see the drawers with your name on them—you’ll be asked to set a password on the touch screen the first time you use it.”
“More security?”
“The archives house some of the rarest magickal documents in existence. We get visiting professors from all over the world, along with our own graduate students and professors. A lot of witches and mages come through here, Stevie. We can never be too careful.”
“I can understand keeping the antiquities safe, but my mom’s stuff? My own translations?”
“Think about it,” he says, keeping his voice low even though we’re alone. “If the prophecies are true, anything you translate will put you on the map of whoever’s behind the attacks. They’ll know you’re onto them—or at least working on it. Even if the propheciesaren’ttrue, your mother believed something terrible was coming. If her work or your notes fall into the wrong hands, it could either put you in danger or cause a mass panic, and we’re not going to risk either of those things. Not when witches are being targeted all across the country right now—and that’s not even taking into consideration what’s happening overseas.”
Kirin sets the stack of notebooks on the table and turns away from me, blowing out a sigh. The muscles beneath his shirt bunch with tension.
I rise from the table, place a hand against his back. “Kirin, is something wrong?”
Silence.
Finally, he turns, his eyes full of concern, his shoulders sagging. “There was another attack last night. In New York, a small town just a few hours north of Manhattan.”
“What happened?”
“A house fire—four people dead. From what little details have been shared online, I’d say it was caused by magelight. But they arrested the witch who lives next door—she’s claiming she and the family were close, that she’s devastated about the news. Down in the city, they’ve already started protesting—some of them for her freedom, but a good majority for stricter penalties and additional sanctions against witchcraft.”
“How can you get any stricter than execution?”
Kirin holds my gaze, all the unspoken fears hanging in the air between us.
Sometimes, there are a lot worse fates than death.
“I need to get to work,” I say.
Kirin nods solemnly, but a smile touches his lips. “Just remember, Stevie. You’re not alone in this. We’re a team, okay?”
