Dee passed over her phone and let James read the message.
“No,” said James. “He wouldn’t just leave us. Not like this. Not like—”
His hand went to his chest.
Dee swallowed; all the happiness had gone out of her. “Has any troop ever attacked the Daemon before?” she asked.
James looked away and did not answer.
Another text came in:We need to meet up. I have a plan.
THIRTY-TWO
They met at the abandoned bank.
James unlocked the front doors and they took flashlights and lanterns and ventured into the decrepit building. Riley had never seen it before and she eyed the walls with curiosity rather than disgust. Cora picked her way through the rubble with delicate care, like a cat trying not to get its feet wet. Dee saw a rat scurrying along the floor, sniffing at a piece of wreckage.
At first, no one spoke. But they were all thinking the same thing. This was it—their Rumpelstiltskin clause. If they could figure out how to get their hearts back, fair and square, then the Daemon would be outwitted. They could leave this nightmare behind and keep their ill-gotten gains.
All that stood between them and their hearts was a heavy vault door.
“You think we could break in?” Dee asked.
“I’m not a criminal mastermind,” said James, “contrary to what your roommate thought about me. I’ve never actually done anything illegal—well, except for that time I squatted in Italy, but I’m not sure that counts. You got any ideas, Cora?”
Cora crossed her arms. “Do I look like a criminal?”
And she had a point; Dee was pretty sure master criminals didn’t wear frilly blouses and pencil skirts—or at least, the ones in Portland didn’t.
“I might be able to do it.”
Three heads turned in unison to look at Riley.
“What?” said James flatly.
Riley looked half-ashamed, half-proud when she said, “I may have attempted to build explosives before.”
Dee felt her mouth drop open. James snorted and Cora took a step back.
“Just to see if I could,” said Riley hastily. “I wasn’t going to blow anything up. I just… I want to go into demolitions. That’s my dream job. You know, taking down old buildings and stuff.”
“You’re the new Cal,” Dee said, understanding. For the first time, she thought she might have glimpsed the Daemon’s motives—why he picked this girl above all others at Mephisto Market.
Riley blinked. “I’m the new what?”
“Explosives expert,” said James. He pressed both palms to the door. “But—I mean. Really? You think you could take down this door without blowing up what’s inside the vault?”
Riley took a step back, surveying the vault door with a critical eye. “It depends on how large the vault is. I could go at the door with a thermal lance, but I’d need to know the dimensions of the vault. If the space is too small, I’d end upcookingeveryone’s hearts.”
A collective shudder.
Riley added, “Also, it would take a while. Could you guarantee that the Daemon won’t walk in on us trying to break in? Because I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t take that well.”
“We haven’t seen him in weeks,” said Cora, agitated. Her hands clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed. “I was hoping maybe he would be here, that we could get some answers out of him.”
James rubbed at his chin, probably trying to look intellectual, but the day-old shadow took away from that image. Dee tamped down a smile.
“Out of idle curiosity, could you get a thermal lance?” he asked.
