~ Jaxon ~

"Yumi?" Nic bangs his fist against the slab of stone blocking the doorway. "Yumi!"

"Save your breath," Aurelio advises. "She can't hear you. If it were possible to attract attention and be rescued from without, Solemnity would surely have done so."

"She knows we're down here, though," Nic argues. "Once she figures out what happened, it's just a matter of time before she busts or blasts her way in."

"A matter of time is the operative phrase, I believe," Aurelio counters. "If I'm not mistaken, Solemnity either asphyxiated or died of dehydration long before he had the chance to starve to death. This chamber is airtight, or close enough. Carbon dioxide poisoning is my guess. He probably lost consciousness while still studying the book, and died shortly thereafter."

"How much time do we have?" I ask.

Aurelio measures the room with his eyes and does some calculations in his head. "With three of us breathing at a normal rate, I'd estimate 12 hours."

"That's plenty of time," Nic says confidently. "Yumi will have us out of here in three, tops."

"I wouldn't count on it," Aurelio says.

"That ticking sound we heard in the main chamber?" I ask.

He nods. "Likely a counterweight reset mechanism. I imagine when we triggered this trap, the stair-blocks rose back into place, sealing the entrance once more. Perhaps a team of experts could get to us in under twelve hours, but unless Yumi can assemble such a team and convince them to blow holes in the college library,  I wouldn't count on it."

"You don't know Yumi like I do," Nic argues, though I hear the worry in his tone. "She'll think of something."

"Her resourcefulness is extraordinary," Aurelio agrees, "and hope is a healthy thing to have. However, I believe we would do better to discover if we cannot save ourselves, rather than to wait for rescue from without."

He turns to me and shines his light on the book, which I still hold.

"Knock yourself out," I say, handing it to him. "You're the faster reader, anyway."

He accepts it carefully. "Best switch off your lights, for now. I may be wrong about the air, and I'd rather not sit in the dark if we end up trapped, and alive, longer than anticipated."

Nic and I turn our flashlights off, and the three of us sit against the wall, trying not to breathe too much while Aurelio studies the book. For a long time, the only sound is the whisper of air and the rustle of old pages as they turn. There's not much to look at, and less to do, so I end up staring at the pile of dusty bones, held in a loose semblance of form by the remnants of an old suit.

"Hard to believe Agatha would do this to her own brother," I say, voicing my thoughts aloud. "I was pretty young when she died, so I don't remember her much, but she and great-aunt Bernie always seemed... nice. Couple 'a sweet old ladies, you know."

Aurelio glances up from the book. "Old people always seem harmless to the young, who tend to forget that the old were young, too, once. Considering the number of unsolved murders, statistically, there's a more-than-zero chance that the 'sweet old lady' sitting across from you on the bus has killed someone. Add to that the fact you're most likely to be killed by someone you know, and it shouldn't be all that surprising to learn you've got a murderer in the family."

"Wow. You know, this is really helping my trust issues," Nic says. "If you ever get tired of politics and scheming, and whatever else you do, I think you've got a bright future in therapy."

Aurelio ignores him. "As for Agatha," he continues, "from what I've read, her actions – however extreme – may not have been unjustified. It would seem that while Solemnity had the ambition, Agatha had the brains."

"She designed this?" I ask.

"She was quite gifted, if we may believe her own version of events. While her brother was obsessed with gathering and hoarding 'knowledge,' it was Agatha who had the ability and fortitude of mind to learn and apply it. She was fluent in a dozen languages, and could read several dead ones. She was critical to her brother's quest for power, as many of his 'lines of inquiry' would be considered unsavory even today."

"And the Ink and Quill?" I ask. "How's that come in?"

Aurelio turns to another part of the book, shining his flashlight on the page. "She stumbled across it, really. There was an old Bodewell family legend – even more amorphous than our own – that led her to see a certain pattern in ancient texts. What we call the 'Ink and Quill,' a synthesis of magic between willing and equal partners, is, in fact, quite an ancient phenomenon. Agatha traced the rise and fall of many such 'unities' through time, and discovered that the ability runs in certain bloodlines. The Spellwrights are one, the Lovecrafts another; the Bodewells, it seems, were a third."

"Did she know that before, or after, she met Berenice?"

"Before," Aurelio confirms, his dark brows lifting as he turns to yet another page.

"So..."

He nods. "Solemnity was a potential 'Quill,' and he wanted an Ink. Agatha found him one. Then she fell in love with her, and... Well, that's the heart of it all, I suppose. Here – I'll let Agatha tell it in her own words. This book is more a journal or record than anything, and not intended to be published. The last chapter is in the form of a letter addressed to Solemnity."

He angles the flashlight at the page and reads aloud.

"Brother, I have kept your secrets faithfully, as you have kept mine; and yet your faithfulness is bought at such a price of fear, I cannot call us equals. Your secrets, should they be revealed, would result in shame and ignominy; but with the right connections and a degree of social finesse, they may be forgiven, in time. Mine, though they harm no one, if known would be my death.

You know how it kills me, every time we travel to some place where women are not welcome, and I must don the likeness of 'Atticus' once more, whose name is dead to me. You know that as Agatha I am my best, and true, and only self.

Society does not know as much; in the eyes of society, I am not a woman – whole, and sound in mind – but a man with a disease. And society does not forgive such ills.

It takes but a single seed to plant such a thicket of fears, and you planted it to your advantage long ago. I have been content, nonetheless, to follow you.As a woman, I cannot be a scholar; and as a scholar, I cannot be myself. You have given me the best of both worlds, and for this, I am grateful. However—"

"Oh, no. There's always a 'however,' isn't there?" Nic interjects with a sigh.

Aurelio continues without glancing up.

"However, I can follow you no more, for now my heart follows another.

After years of seeking, of devoting nearly every waking hour to our quest for an Ink to serve you, my research led me to Berenice. I did not expect to fall in love with her; far less did I expect that she would ever return my affections. In this, I have been most wonderfully surprised.

And yet, the more that I learned of what it is to be bound as Ink and Quill, the more I have come to fear that my unexpected happiness shall be short-lived; and now that I understand your true intentions, brother, I am certain of it.

In all my studies, I have discovered no magic darker than the Devil's Song – to sacrifice the life of one whose life is bound to yours, and the utter possession of another soul, for power. I wish I could believe that you do not mean to use it; I wish it were true that you only want it for the sake of having it; but I know you too well. You will be tempted, as many Inks and Quills have been tempted before, by the insidious promise of the Song.

Perhaps it would be different if you loved her; maybe then I could trust you as I wish. But ever since you learned of her potential, I have seen danger in the way you look at Berenice – danger that is doubled in the way you look at me.

I have come to fear you, Solemnity. I fear that if I give voice to this, or if  you even suspect the nature of my thoughts, I will find myself condemned to the asylum, to die in undignified disgrace. I cannot – I will not – leave Berenice at the mercy of your ambition, or allow harm to come to her through me.

And so, brother, I have led you here with the promise of everything you seek. The Song is yours, but only if you can declare, with absolute truth and honesty, that you will never use it, and that no harm will come to Berenice because of it. Place your hand upon the door and say as much, and if you do not lie, the door will open, and you will be free. But be warned: the truth is the truth, whether or not you know it to be. Lie, and you will never leave this room.

I hope with all my heart that I shall see you soon, Solemnity, and that you will forgive me and prove all my fears unfounded. But if I do not, then farewell, and may the sleep of death that takes you be a gentle one.

Yours forever, or nevermore,

Agatha"

Aurelio stops his recitation and takes a breath, lifting his eyes to Nic's and mine.

"What about us?" Nic asks. "Will the spell still work? I mean, obviously we don't want to hurt Berenice. Not that we could, since she's already dead, but—"

"There's more," Aurelio cuts in, lifting a hand, and reads again.

"To any future soul who reads these words: if you stand in the company of my brother's bones, the same test holds true. Only an Ink or Quill may gain entry to these chambers, and only an Ink or Quill with no desire to use the Devil's Song may take it from this place and leave. Say as much, and you are free; if the truth betrays you, then join Solemnity."

"That's it?" I ask. "I just have to say I don't want to use the Devil's Song?"

Aurelio frowns. "That you never will, and that you will never harm Sylas, if you're to parallel what was asked of Solemnity."

"All right."

I take a breath and get to my feet. We've only been in the chamber an hour or so, and the air is already stuffy and warm. Standing before the door, I center myself and place my hand on the slab.

"My name is Jaxon Spellwright, and I am the Ink to Sylas Lovecraft's Quill. I will never use the Devil's Song, nor do I desire to, and I will never harm the man I love."

Nothing happened.

"Fuck," Nic swears, chewing his nails. "Maybe you said it wrong."

I notice a sheet of sweat on his brow and remember he has claustrophobia. He's been holding it together surprisingly well thus far, but his composure is wearing thin.

"Try it again," Aurelio says. "Keep it simple."

I turn back to the door.

"I will never use the Devil's Song, and I will never harm my Quill," I say.

Again, nothing happens.

"Shit." I rub my hand over my hair. "We're missing something."

"Keep trying. I'll keep studying the book."

For the next quarter-hour, I try as many variations of the same statements as we can come up with, with the same lack of effect.

"Try it in an old-timey voice," Nic suggests. "Like Solemnity would have had."

"I'm not trying it in an old-timey voice," I grumble. I'm sweating now, too, and it's getting harder to think clearly.

"Why not? Maybe the inflection matters."

"Fine."

I give in, and try it in an old-timey voice.

"Happy now?" I ask, when the stone fails to move.

"No. I'd be happy if it had worked," Nic mutters. "Hey, maybe we all have to say it at once – all together."

"Worth a try," Aurelio says.

We try, and fail.

"What are we doing wrong?" Nic moans. His shirt is damp with sweat, and he's having a hard time keeping his breathing slow and even.

I lean my head against the wall and shut my eyes. A suspicion has been growing in my heart, and now I'm forced to speak it. "We're not doing anything wrong," I say, accepting defeat. "It just isn't the truth."

"What? But Jaxi..."

I shake my head. "Of course I'd never use the Devil's Song, and of course I don't want to. But as for harming Sylas... I already have, Nic. I've lied, and made him fear me, and I broke his heart. If I've done all that, just trying to protect him..." I sigh. "How can I say I'll 'never hurt him' and expect it to be the truth? Even if I never want to, and never mean to, it's almost inevitable that I will. And if the 'truth' is that I'll hurt Sylas if I take the Song from here... then I'd rather die. I'm only sorry you're stuck with me, and have to suffer for it."

Nic draws a breath, and I see both pain and the depths of loyal friendship on his broad, open face. Before he can speak, though, the wall beneath my hand shifts.

With a groan and scrape of stone on stone, the slab blocking the doorway rolls aside. Beyond, I see the spiral stairs sinking back into place, reopening the passage to the floor above.

"And that, it would seem, is the truth," Aurelio remarks, as Yumi drops from above, ignoring the stairs entirley. She lands in a crouch and launches herself at Nic, hugging him and cussing him out simultaneously.

Meanwhile, a smaller panel has opened on the opposite wall, revealing an object within. Aurelio crosses the room and retrieves it, bringing it back to me. It's a knife, carved from bone.

"Is that...?"

"The 'Devil's Song,' I presume," Aurelio says. "Agatha laid it out plainly enough. The 'spell' is an act.A sacrifice, to be specific. The Devil's Song is, more precisely, the Devil's Instrument. See here." He indicates the handle of the knife, and I see a symbol etched in the bone.

A griffin.

"Is this...?"

"I believe so," he confirms grimly. "The devil's last 'victim' becomes the instrument of his successor's death. This is a 'relic' in the old sense of the word – Amarias's, if I'm not mistaken."

I swallow and take it with a mix of dread and reverence.

"We can't give this to Edwards," I say.

"No. But we must bring it to him, nonetheless, if we're to get past his deception detector."

"More truth spells?" Nic groans. "Gods, kill me now. No, wait—" He flinches as Yumi swats the back of his head. "I don't mean that."

I pat his arm and slip the unholy knife into my belt. "Come on. Let's get out of here before something else happens."

Together, the four of us mount the black steps to the level above. I breathe deep, filling my lungs with clean, cool air and pure relief. My relief is short-lived, however, as I reach the top and come face to face with my other brother and his would-be-bride.

"I called them," Yumi says, quick to intervene. "I thought maybe they could help, being from the same bloodlines and all. Didn't work, but..."

"We want to help," Lyssa says, stepping forward. She wears a slinky red dress and matching high heels, while Marcus models a suit that probably costs more money than most people make in a year. They must have skipped out on some high-end social function to come here. "I want to help, if I can. Please. I know I've been selfish and... everything. But please, let me help my brother."

I stare at her, seeing so much of Sylas in her face it's uncanny, and then turn my attention to Marcus.

He nods once, but says nothing. The haunted look in his eyes speaks volumes, though.

"The silvertongue, tongue-tied," Aurelio remarks. "That's Edwards's warped humor to a T."

Marcus glares. Lyssa steps in again. "It's not his fault. Marcus isn't perfect, and he got himself into this, yeah, but he's sorry now, and he wants to help, too. Right?"

She looks at him expectantly, and he nods. It occurs to me that appearances are where the similarity between Sylas and his sister end. She's got Marcus on a leash, and it might even be good for him.

"Fine," I say. "We can use all the help we can get."

"Indeed," Aurelio agrees. "Now, let's go rescue us a Lovecraft, and put Linden Edwards in his place, shall we?"