Page 114 of Harnessed in Gold

Surely this door is locked.

One tug by Rime proves it’s not.

We all file into a cold, concrete space. A cold, dark, concrete space.

“There has to be a light switch around here,” Topaz mutters.

I hit the flashlight button on my phone and shine it on the cinderblock walls. Aaron and Leo do the same. None of us can find a switch.

“We have enough light,” Rime says once Avery turns on her phone light and shows him how to use his. “Let’s find the elevator.”

Enough light, my ass. I almost trip over a large metal cart. Rime snorts and steadies me, nudging me onward. We pass three dollies and another cart before we come upon the elevator. No one could miss it. It’s huge and old—no, ancient—and it’s closed off with one of those collapsible iron gates, a padlock and chain hanging from one side.

Leo grabs the handle and yanks. To our surprise, the gate opens in one pull, the chain rattling as the metal joints stretch vertically and the diamond lattice shapes collapse into bars. Topaz inspects the padlock and shrugs. It’s locked tight, but only around one link of the chain.

Avery leans cautiously over the gap between the floor and the bottom of the elevator. “Does it go down?”

Leo is already inside, studying the panel. “Yep. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Maybe I shouldn’t have letJamie talk me into watchingSpeedwhen I was twelve, because this freight elevator is terrifying me. It’s nothing more than a platform. No walls, no doors. Thank god we’re only going down one level.

The ride is slow and jerky, like the cable is catching on rust. And the screech of metal on metal has every hair on my body standing on end. Surely the racket is going to alert security.

“Can’t you do a sound shield?” I ask Leo.

“Not when we’re in motion.”

That’s a pretty major caveat.

Throughout our ride down, the raw walls of the shaft are in full view. And they’re not cinderblock, they’re stone, the original foundations from the eighteenth century. What’s living in those walls? Or on them?

As we near the bottom, I brace myself for a bone-rattling crash, but the antique elevator grinds slowly to a halt with only the slightest kickback. For a moment we all stand there, frozen, waiting to be accosted by security guards, or by some ancient archivist who’sbeen down here so long he’s half-mushroom. A few of us even dare to breathe.

No one comes.

Finally, Topaz shoves open the gate. “Are we doing this or what?”

We take a collective deep breath and follow. There’s only one way to go: left. With our phones lighting the way and our footsteps muted on the painted concrete floor, we travel, two-wide, down the narrow hallway.

Topaz comes to a stop at the first room and holds a hand out behind her. “Flashlight.”

Aaron obliges, and we all hold our breath, waiting as she opens the door. A motion-sensor light flicks on, bathing the small space in a blue fluorescent glow.

“How do you feel, Betts?” Avery asks as I cross the threshold.

“Just a little off.” Not even as bad as I felt in the conference room.

The six of us cram shoulder-to-shoulder into the small space. It’s a forest of metal shelves piled high with boxes. I read their labels:staplers, dry-erase, envelopes, file folders.

Aaron mutters, “Nothing but office supplies.”

“Archaicoffice supplies,” I say. “I doubt anyone’s been in here in years.”

Back in the main artery, we come upon another hallway, branching off to the right. It’s so dark and cavernous, I can’t see where it ends. I shiver and gratefully follow the group as they pass it by. We’re heading in the right direction, anyway. I know because the wrongness and disharmony are back. Skin crawling, I grab the closest person.

“Everyone stop,” Avery says, glancing down at my fingers digging into her forearm. “Betts? Are we going the right way?”