The Angel Stone

Who, I had learned last spring, had evaporated into steam and taken up residence in the heating pipes.

I shook that thought away and concentrated on the map. Soheila’s note had said to meet her beneath Main Hall. I traced out the most direct route, trying to choose tunnels I’d been in before, but I hadn’t traveled this far in the tunnel system yet. I’d gone only as far as Fraser, where there was an entrance to the tunnels through Soheila’s office closet. But Main was on the far north side of campus, and some of the tunnels leading there were sketched in with dotted lines—Soheila’s code for unexplored. In one of them, Frank had scrawled Here be dragons! next to a cartoon of a ferocious fire-breathing beast.

Very funny, I thought, taking the tunnel to my right. It was narrower than the one I’d been in and lined with wide steel pipes that were covered with rust and peeling paint. Previous tunnel explorers had left their marks on the walls: a long-nosed Leroy was here, several hearts with initials, and a scrawled Help me! My English teacher has read too much Poe and buried me alive behind this wall!

I followed the twisting route until I heard voices. I stopped and listened.

“I’m just saying he didn’t seem so bad. The man was a Jets fan, after all,” a man’s voice, which I recognized as Frank Delmarco’s, said.

“He wasn’t even a man,” replied a lilting female voice that could only belong to Soheila Lilly. “He was an incubus, and it’s in his nature—our nature—to be pleasing. He probably told you he was a Jets fan to win you over.”

“Nah, I can always tell a real fan. Besides, he had no reason to win me over. And when we were on our way to the door that morning, he told me something …”

I held my breath, eager to hear what Bill—clearly whom Frank was talking about—had told Frank. They’d gone together to find a way of unmasking Duncan Laird on the morning of the summer solstice, but then Bill had stepped between Duncan and me and taken the lethal blow meant for me.

“He said that if anything happened to him, I should tell Cal—”

“I don’t want to know,” Soheila cut Frank off. “Whatever protestations of love he made—however real they might have seemed—make no difference. He’s gone. Callie needs to get over him.”

“But that’s just it. He may not really be gone. He said …”

In my eagerness to hear what Frank said next, I stepped forward—and tripped. My flashlight clattered to the ground.

“What’s that?” I heard Soheila cry.

“It must be Callie.”

“Frank, don’t. You don’t know it’s her …”

But Frank was already barreling down the tunnel, like one of his beloved football players, ready to tackle an unknown foe. You had to love Frank—but if he was keeping Bill’s last message from me, I was going to throttle it out of him.

“I’m fine, Frank,” I said, scrambling to my feet and shining the flashlight at him. In black turtleneck, jeans, and beret, he looked like a special-ops agent. “I just fell.”

“Jeez, McFay, could you be a little more careful?” he huffed. “You scared Soheila.”

I heard a musical laugh behind Frank as Soheila came into view. If anyone could make urban guerrilla camouflage look chic, it was Soheila Lilly. She was wearing tight black leggings, which clung to her every curve, tucked into tall lace-up boots. Her silk turtleneck was just a shade off black—aubergine, I thought, although it was hard to tell in this light—and worn under a black leather jacket. Her abundant dark hair fell in luxuriant waves around her face, and the beret Frank had given her was tilted to a rakish angle. Whatever she wore, Soheila emanated a seductive charm. Whenever she laughed, the air around her rippled with the scent of cardamom and cloves, reminding me that she had once been a wind spirit, before the desires of humans had shaped her into a beautiful woman. For thousands of years she had fed on those desires, becoming a succubus who needed the human life force to survive, until she had fallen in love with a human, whose returned love had made her partly human. When Angus Fraser died, Soheila had sworn off feeding on humans, using Aelvesgold to maintain her life force. But now that she was cut off from her source of Aelvesgold, she would inevitably grow weaker. I noticed that even though it was warm in the tunnels, she looked as if she was freezing. Still, she smiled as she said, “I think Frank was just looking for an excuse to come to your rescue, Callie.”

Frank scowled, an expression so habitual that he had vertical lines etched on his forehead. Those furrows had deepened over the last two months, as he’d watched his college fall into the hands of evil creatures. He carried an extra burden of guilt, I knew. Frank had worked as an undercover operative for the internal-affairs division of IMP—the Institute for Magical Professionals—preparing a report for them on unorthodox otherworldly activities at Fairwick. But Frank hadn’t known that his report would be used by the Grove to coerce IMP into going along with the closing of the door to Faerie. Or that once the door was closed and most of our fey colleagues were gone, the nephilim would be able to take over the college. I knew Frank wouldn’t rest until he banished the nephilim and got our friends back, which was why, I was pretty sure, he’d been so quick to come to my rescue right now, not, as Soheila was hinting, that he was sweet on me. My suspicions were confirmed by the glance he gave Soheila under lowered brows.

“I’m pretty sure McFay can take care of herself,” he said. “She’s more powerful than the two of us put together.”

Soheila looked from Frank to me and then back at Frank again. “You’re right. Callie is growing very powerful.” She gave the two of us a smile that turned the stale tunnel air into a sultry desert breeze laden with spices, then turned on her heel and walked briskly away, tossing over her shoulder. “It’s time we put that power to use.”

Frank and I followed side by side—as Soheila had planned. She was always trying to arrange for us to be alone together. Since Soheila had renounced human contact, she wouldn’t allow herself to admit her feelings for Frank, and she also thought my attachment to the incubus was unhealthy. In her view, that made Frank and me the perfect match.

“What’s up?” I asked Frank.

“Soheila thinks that Duncan Laird was contacted today by the Seraphim Club in London. White Eagle, our informant in the mailroom—”

“You mean Earl?” I asked.

“Shh. The code names are to protect the network, McFay. White Eagle tells us that Laird received a package today from London.”

“I saw it!” I said. “He had a package on his desk when I was in his office. It had foreign stamps on it. He put it in his file cabinet when he saw me looking at it.”

“Good work, McFay. Soheila thinks it may have information about the nephilim’s plans. Now we just need to get into the office. That’s where you come in. Someone has to break through the wards—and who better than a doorkeeper?”

“I’ll do my best,” I assured him as we joined Soheila at the foot of a flight of stairs. She sat on the bottom step, holding Ralph in her hand. They appeared to be having a conversation.

“Ralph is going to go upstairs and make sure the building is clear. If he sees a security guard, he’ll distract him.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” I asked. “Those guys are scary. Nicky said today that they look like trolls.”

“Trows, actually,” Frank said.

“A species of troll from the Orkney Islands,” Soheila explained. “They’ve made a compact with the nephilim in exchange for a supply of Aelvesgold. It’s very disappointing. The trows may not be the brightest of the fey, but they were essentially harmless creatures until the nephilim got ahold of them. Once they’ve pledged allegiance to a master, they’re unfailingly loyal. They haven’t a shred of initiative, though, and they’re not quick on their feet. Ralph should have no trouble staying ahead of them, will you, my brave little soldier?”

Ralph squeaked and fluffed out his fur, preening under Soheila’s praise. Apparently, magical doormice were not immune to succubi charm. She carried Ralph up the stairs, inched open the door at the top, and crouched down to let him through the crack. I knelt beside Soheila on the darkened stairwell, peering past her into the dim lobby of Main. I could make out a guard sitting on a chair, tipped back, eating Cheetos, and listening to a baseball game on a small portable radio.

“A Red Sox fan,” Frank muttered. “Figures!”