CJ scowls.
I hand them the keys. “They’re in Roman numerals,” I say.
They roll their eyes, sorting through until they find the right one. They press it into the lock. It clicks.
I hold my breath.
They carefully open the door. Inside, it’s dark as hell. I would say it looks empty, but I can’t see anything, not even the walls.
“Credence?” I whisper, my voice bouncing back and echoing.
Credence.
Credence.
“Credence.”
The last echo, however, isn’t in my voice.
It’s neither masculine nor feminine, just breathy and…off.
“Is that my name?” the voice asks.
Out of the shadows glides a tall silhouette of a tattered soul. It has no distinguishable features, no more than a ragged suggestion of a person.
What have they done to her? Have they done this to Dante as well?
“Credence?” I ask. “Rook sent us.”
Something like a head whips toward me.
“The code phrase,” CJ reminds me.
“Right, um, quod est superius…est sicut…quod inferius,and—I mean, et…quod inferius est, ugh…sicut quod est superius?”
Rook made me repeat it over and over, but I never got the hang of it. Too manyquods andsicuts.
It works, though, because the soul before us stops, then deflates as though it’s letting out a deep sigh. It moves toward us again, slower this time. When it reaches us, it extends what looks like a hand and gently touches it to my cheek.
“Credence?” I ask. “Rook sent us.”
Another pulse or sigh. An affirmation.
It’s her.
We did it. We found her.
We broke into Tartarus, caused a jailbreak, and freed Rook’s sister. I can’t keep the goofy grin off my face.
CJ gives me their version of a smile. Dante used to call it their “grin-mace.”
My own expression falters.
“You have Credence’s finger bone?” I ask.
CJ nods, reaching into their pocket.
“No, you hold on to it,” I say. “Get to the meeting point. Stay safe. But wait until I meet up with you to give Credence the finger—” I shake my head. “I mean wait to hand her the bone. I don’t want Tolliver to bring me back just yet.”
