Page 70 of Harnessed in Gold

Avery crosses her arms and inspects a Corinthian column. “Maybe there was something structurally wrong with it.”

“Maybe it was haunted,” I say under my breath.

“Maybe,” Leo mumbles back.

We peel off one by one, each going in our own direction, following wherever our intuition leads. I stand for a moment, taking in the entire space before I wander. The chapel is small, as far as churches go. I count the rows of pews: a mere fourteen, two rows flanking a center aisle, and each pew looking as if it could seat six adults.

Captivated by the stained glass windows glowing in the waningdaylight, I meander down one of the side aisles. In the window furthest from the altar, three men who look more like medieval knights than biblical figures stand in front of—no,in—a fire, their arms held out in a gesture of offering.

Leo comes up beside me. “Shadrach, Abednego, and Meshach,” he says, peering up at the window. “Do you know the story?”

I shake my head.

“It’s from Daniel.”

“Are theyinthe fire?”

“Yeah. They were Israelite captives in Babylon, and they wouldn’t bow down to the Babylonian gods, so the king had them thrown into the furnace.” Leo points to a man off to the side, wearing long robes and a crown. “That’s Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon.”

“You’ve read the whole Bible, haven’t you?”

He shrugs modestly. “It’s fascinating. From an anthropological point of view.”

I’m pretty sure Leo the Hawthorn, faerie from Nàdar, knows more about us humans than we do.

“So what happened to the three guys?” I ask.

“God saved them from getting burned, just like they thought he would.” He points to the window again. “See that figure up there, behind them? That’s an angel.”

I fold my arms and peer up at the image. The men are featureless, mere shapes suggesting their faces, clothes, and hair. But I don’t need expressions to imagine how they would’ve felt. Were they confident or afraid? When they realized they weren’t burning, did they feel triumphant or grateful? Or were they more like I would’ve been: terrified, even in the face of a miracle, waiting for the axe to fall?

I ask Leo, “Do you think what they did was an act of courage—or an act of faith?”

He strokes his chin and thoughtfully tilts his head. “I don’t think you can have one without the other.”

I look back up at the window, but I’m not really seeing it. Leo’sright, as usual. It takes courage to trust. But you can’t be brave, either, without having faith in someone. Especially yourself.

Leo combs a hand through his hair, feathering the strands at his temples. “I’ll leave you alone so you can concentrate.”

Right. I have a job to do. “Did you find any clues at all when you were here before?”

“Honestly, no.”

Okay. Going in blind. “I’ll see what I can do.” Toying with my amethyst, I step around him and continue down the aisle.

“Betts,” he calls softly. “If you feel something bad, try harnessing it.”

“Harnessing it?”

“Yeah, just like you did with me.”

Okay, but why would I deliberately draw in toxic emotions?

“Do you understand what I mean?” He steps closer and points to his solar plexus. “Collect it, don’t feel it.”

I nod. His words make sense, but I don’t know how they translate into action.

I turn once again, but he snags my hand. “I’m here if you need me.”