Dark Secrets - Linsey Hall Page 0,50

the stone.

“Wait.” Grey gripped my shoulder gently. “Ancient sorcerers used to start the year in June. They don’t anymore, but he may have done it that way.”

I nodded, moving my hand toward June. One after the other, I pressed the stones, feeling them vibrate beneath my touch. The last one pulsed hardest, and the door began to glow.

Grey reached for it, twisting the knob, but nothing happened. The vibration increased.

“An alarm,” Grey said. “We’re missing part of the spell.”

Shit.

Heart racing, I studied to door, searching for the clue. The trembling became a loud hum that grew, climbing to a shriek.

My gaze went to a spot on the floor. The stones looked unassuming, but one of them matched what I’d seen in my vision.

I pressed my foot on it, hard.

The stone depressed, and the alarm stopped.

I sagged, relief chilling my skin.

Grey tried the door again, and this time, it opened easily. We slipped inside, and he closed the door behind us. I leaned against the wood, panting.

“Did you hear the alarm?” Grey spoke quietly into his comms charm.

“No, you’re good,” Quinn responded. “I’ve just deployed the alarms on these doors. Your comms charm will ping when they are tripped.”

“Good,” I said. “Get out of there.”

“See you on the outside,” he replied. “Call for backup if you need it.”

We cut the connection, and I stared at the office.

It was filled to the brim with books and papers. Crowded shelves climbed to the ceiling fifteen feet above us.

“There have to be thousands of them,” I said. “Have you been in here before?”

“No,” said Grey. “He doesn’t let anyone in.”

Three huge tables and a massive desk were covered in papers, as if a mad scientist were hard at work.

At the edges of the room, a faint mist began to seep from beneath the walls. “What’s that?”

Grey frowned. “I’ve never seen the like.”

The mist moved quickly, filling the room. I breathed it in, unable to help myself.

My mind fogged, and my thoughts and memory became fractured.

Why were we here?

Mac.

“It’s a mind-numbing spell,” Grey said.

My thoughts tumbled over themselves as I tried to figure out what was going on and how to fix it. But I was so slow. So tired.

The weight of my potion bag pulled at my shoulder, and an idea pushed through the haze that clouded my mind.

Hadn’t Eve given me something that could help with spells like this?

Frantic, I scrambled in my bag for the tiny star-shaped bottle she’d shown me. My fingers closed around it. Opening the bottle with trembling hands, I took a small sip, then passed it off to Grey. “It should clear your mind.”

It was already working on me, giving me a magical resistance to the mist that still hung heavy in the hair. My thoughts cleared, and I remembered why we were there.

Grey drank some of the potion, and his gaze sharpened. “That worked well.”

“Let’s search the room.” I took a staggering step. Was I tired, or was another spell at work?

Impossible to say.

Grey and I quickly rifled through the papers. I scanned documents and books, trying to keep my power in check so my mind wouldn’t become polluted by too many unrelated visions.

Ubhan had varied interests, most of which seemed to be focused on different parts of history. Many of the documents were related to the rules and regulations of the city and the Council. He was a rule follower through and through, as all sorcerers tended to be.

“I think I may have found something,” Grey said.

I hurried toward him, my eyes riveted to the ancient, yellowed papers in his hands. “What is it?”

“They appear to be redacted minutes from a Council meeting a few hundred years ago. From the Council of 1642, specifically.”

“After your time.”

“Yes. I’d left by then.”

“Why is he so interested in redacted minutes?”

“Because the Council doesn’t redact minutes. At least, we didn’t when I was on it. To my knowledge, they still don’t.”

“Ubhan wouldn’t like that. He’s a big fan of the rules.”

“Sorcerers.” Grey shook his head and looked back at the paper. His brow creased. “He either wanted to get to the bottom of the redacted minutes or he had something to do with it.”

“My bet is on the latter.” I ran my gaze over the writing, noting the parts that were heavily blacked out. “What decision was the Council trying to hide?”

“I can’t tell. Someone’s marked through the text.”

On the desk, there were more collections of minutes. Black lines crossed through some of the lines on them as well. I