to disrespect holy ground, let’s get it over with. What’s the plan?”
He studied her a moment and then, apparently assured of her earnestness, replied, “We will travel in. Be careful of anything that looks like iron. Most of it can’t hurt you—only pure iron can, like the dagger Ethan carried. But better to be safe than sorry. You’ve—”
“I just had a thought,” Rose cut him off and then gave an apologetic look. “How have I avoided pure iron my whole life?”
Fionn considered this. “It’s not used as often as mixed iron materials because there’s less carbon in it, meaning it’s softer, more pliable. There’s been a resurgence of its use commercially in the last few years, but it doesn’t surprise me that you’ve had no contact with it.”
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve avoided the stuff for three centuries, despite being attacked by supes in the know.”
She smiled and couldn’t help if it was somewhat coquettish. He brought it out of her. “You really are a badass.”
Ignoring her, Fionn gestured to the building. “You’ve been here before, which will make it easier. But as soon as you’re inside, you’ll feel the effects of hallowed ground. Dizziness, nausea, a lack of concentration.”
That did not sound fun.
“What about the guards?”
“I’m going in first to take them out. Travel in after me in five minutes.” Then poof, he was gone.
Rose blinked, glancing around to make sure no one had seen him vanish, but the humans standing outside the church had their backs to where Rose stood. “Shit,” she groused. “I will never get used to that. Also?” She threw up her hands. “I don’t have a watch.”
Waiting for an approximation of five minutes to pass felt like the longest moments of Rose’s life. Despite knowing no human could hurt him unless they were in possession of pure iron, she worried for Fionn. He’d been in her life a mere two days, and yet that didn’t feel correct. Despite all she didn’t know about him, he felt familiar in a way so little in her life ever had. She had feelings for him.
If another woman came to Rose and told her she had strong feelings for some guy she’d only known forty-eight hours, she would’ve staged an intervention.
“Life is so weird,” she mumbled, preparing herself to travel. Then she considered what she was about to do and mocked herself, “You think?”
Remembering the mammoth entrance to the church with its cathedral ceiling, marble floors, arched stained glass windows, and stone pillars, she visualized it as best she could. What she remembered most was the ceiling—how the columns split into branches to hold up the vaulting, like trees holding up the sky. How natural light poured in through spaces in the design. It was less alien inside than outside. Instead, it was like standing beneath the canopy of a great stone forest.
Rose focused, closed her eyes, felt the resultant tingle, and opened them again.
She stood inside the dark cathedral, near the chairs that faced the altar.
“You were seven minutes.”
Startled at the sound of Fionn’s voice, she turned toward him and felt the cathedral spin. “Whoa.” She put out a hand to find balance, but a wave of a nausea flooded her. Clutching at the nearest chair, Rose leaned into it. A memory hit of when she was seven years old, at her first gymnastics lesson. The dizziness after each somersault. A dizziness that had dissipated quickly as her body got used to spinning and tumbling.
Fionn stepped into her path. “I told you it can be disorienting.”
Rose frowned. She was an ex-gymnast.
No way was she going to let a little dizziness take her down.
She concentrated, focused, felt the room right itself, and stood. It still spun a little, but the nausea lessened. “The guards?”
Fionn eyed her a second and then nodded. “They’re out. Come.” He strode toward the center of the mammoth space.
Rose followed and felt the room spin again; she threw out her hands and imagined the floor was a balance beam, which helped her find her center. Following Fionn, she met him in the middle of the room.
“Very good,” he said.
“We’re not going to do any damage to the church, right? They’ve been working on construction for nearly 130 years.”
“I can fix anything we damage.” He shrugged, like damaging a Gaudí building, a religious one at that, was no big deal.
“You’re insane.”
“Keep insulting me. It’ll inspire me to be more creative when I attack you.”
Uncertainty made Rose retreat, and it was like doing