The Indigo Spell Chapter Twenty

IAN WOKE ME THE NEXT MORNING with a super-early phone call. At first, I thought maybe he hoped to sneak in before the other Alchemists woke up, but it turned out he just wanted to get breakfast beforehand. Seeing as he'd managed to get me access, I couldn't very well refuse. He'd originally wanted to go to the facility in the late morning, but I talked him into going closer to noon. It meant lingering longer over breakfast, but it was worth the sacrifice. However, I was strictly back to khakis and a linen top. Espionage aside, cocktail dresses and breakfast buffets just didn't mix. As a concession, however, I unbuttoned two buttons at the top of my shirt. Openly wearing that into the facility was practically R-rated, and Ian seemed thrilled by the â€Å"scandalous† act. Sunday at the facility was much quieter than the previous night. Although Alchemists never really got a break from their duties, most of the center worked normal weekday business hours. I had no difficulties checking in through the main reception again, but as predicted, we had a small delay in getting to the secure area. The guy on duty wasn't the friend who owed Ian a favor. We had to wait for him to come out from the back room, and even then, it took Ian a bit of cajoling to convince his colleague to let me in. I think it was obvious to both of them that Ian was just trying to impress me, and finally, the first guy relented to what seemed like a harmless errand. After all, I was a fellow Alchemist, and I was only going on a tour of a library. What could possibly go wrong? They searched my purse and made me walk through a metal detector. I had two spells in mind that I could perform without physical components, so at least I didn't have to explain any crystals or herbs. The trickiest part was a thumb drive I'd hidden in my bra. They might not have questioned me carrying one in my purse, but I hadn't wanted to risk it being called out. That being said, if the thumb drive did show up on the scan, I was going to have a much more difficult time explaining why I was hiding it. I tensed as I stepped under the scanner, bracing myself to either run or attempt a Wolfe move. But, as hoped, it was too small to find, and we were waved through. That was one obstacle down, though it didn't make me any less tense. â€Å"Did you end up trading this for the money he owed you?† I asked once Ian and I were descending toward the archives. â€Å"Yeah.† He made a face. â€Å"I tried to just swap it out for half of what he owed, but it was all or nothing for him.† â€Å"So how much is this trip costing you?† â€Å"Fifty dollars. It's worth it, though,† he added quickly. Dinner had cost about the same. This was turning into an expensive weekend for Ian, particularly since I was the only one truly reaping the rewards. I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty and had to remind myself again and again that this was for an important cause. I would've offered to pay him back for it all, but something told me that would counteract everything I'd been working to achieve with my â€Å"womanly charms.† The archives were sealed with electronic locks that opened when Ian scanned his card key. As we stepped inside, I nearly forgot that coming in here was just a cover for the larger plan. Books and books and books surrounded me as well as scrolls and documents written on parchment. Old and delicate items were sealed under glass, with notes and signs against a far wall on how to access digital copies of them on computers. A couple of Alchemists, young like us, worked at tables and were transcribing old books into their laptops. One of them looked excited about her job; the other guy looked bored. He seemed to welcome the distraction of us entering. I must have worn an appropriately awed expression because when I turned to Ian, he was watching me with pride. â€Å"Pretty cool, huh?† Apparently being a glorified librarian had just become a much more exciting job for him. â€Å"Follow me.† He didn't have to tell me twice. We began by exploring the full extent of the archives room, which stretched back much farther than I initially realized. The Alchemists prized knowledge, and it was obvious from this collection, which dated back centuries. I lingered at the shelves, wanting to read every title. They came in different languages and covered a full range of topics useful to our trade: chemistry, history, mythology, the supernatural . . . it was dizzying. â€Å"How do you organize it?† I asked. â€Å"How can you find anything?† Ian pointed to small placards on the shelves that I hadn't noticed. They bore alphanumeric codes that were part of no filing system I recognized. â€Å"These catalog it all. And here's the directory.† He led me to a touch screen panel embedded in the wall. I pressed it and was presented with a menu of options: AUTHOR, TIME PERIOD, SUBJECT, LANGUAGE. I touched SUBJECT and was led through a series of more and more specific topics until I finally realized I'd been searching for â€Å"Magic† in the supernatural section. It gave me a list of titles, each with its own code in the organizational system. To my surprise, there were actually a number of books on magic, and I burned with curiosity. Did the Alchemists have records of witches? Or was it all speculation? Most likely these were moral books preaching the wrongness of humans even considering such feats. â€Å"Can I browse some of the books?† I asked him. â€Å"I mean, I know I can't sit and read all afternoon, but there's so much history . . . I just kind of want to be a part of it. I'd be so, so grateful.† I really didn't think that would work twice, but it did. â€Å"Okay.† He pointed toward a small office in the back. â€Å"I need to catch up on a few things. Do you want to meet back here in an hour?† I thanked him profusely and then returned to the touch screen. I yearned to investigate the magic books but had to remind myself why I was here. As long as I was in the archives, I might as well do some research that would help our cause. I flipped through the menus until I located the section on the Alchemists' early history. I'd hoped to find a reference to vampire hunters in general or the Warriors specifically. No luck. The best I could do was follow the codes to shelves and shelves detailing our group's formation. Most of the books were dense and written in an antiquated style. The really old ones weren't even in English. I skimmed a few and soon realized a task like this would take longer than an hour. The newer books had no mention of the Warriors, which didn't surprise me, seeing as that information was now covered up. If I was going to locate any references to vampire hunters, it would be in the oldest books. They didn't have much in the way of tables of contents or indices, and there was no way I could do a full read. Remembering my real mission here, I put the books away after about ten minutes and sought out Ian. That earlier tension returned, and I began to sweat. â€Å"Hey, is there a restroom in here?† I prayed there wasn't. I'd seen one down the hall when we'd come to this level. Part of my plan depended on getting out of the archives. â€Å"Down the hall, by the stairs,† he said. Some work issue had required his attention, and if my luck held, it would keep his eyes off the clock. â€Å"Knock on the door when you get back. I'll tell the scribes to let you in.† I'd had a knot of anxiety in my stomach all day that I'd been trying to ignore. Now there was no getting around it. It was time for the unthinkable. Subtlety had no role in Alchemist security. The hallway contained cameras at each end. They faced each other, providing a long, continuous shot of the corridor. The restrooms were located at one end of the hall, almost directly under a camera. I went inside the ladies' room and verified there were no other people – or cameras – within. At least the Alchemists allowed some privacy. Casting the invisibility spell was easy. Getting out was a little more difficult. The cameras' position made me think the restroom door was too flush with the wall for either camera to really get a good look at it. The door opened inward, so I was able to slip out and feel confident no camera had picked up a ghostly door opening. The door to the stairs was the real beast. It was in the range of one of the cameras. Ms. Terwilliger had told me the invisibility spell would protect me from video and film. So, I had no fear of being spotted. I simply had to take the risk of the camera recording the door opening by itself. Although I knew security guards watched live feeds of the cameras, there were too many for them to scrutinize every second. If no sudden movement appeared on this one, I doubted any guard would notice. And if things stayed tame on this level, no one would have any reason to review the footage. But the operations level . . . well, if everything went according to plan, this sleepy Sunday was about to get a lot more exciting there. I slipped in and out of the stairwell, opening the door with absolutely as little space as possible. The operations level was even more secure than the archives, with heavy, industrial-looking doors that required both key cards and codes. I had no illusions about cracking any of it. Entry into the security office, much like the rest of this task, relied on an odd mix of logic and luck. The one thing you could count on with Alchemists was reliability. I knew how schedules tended to work. Lunch breaks were taken on the hour at typical lunch times: eleven, twelve, and one. This was why I'd asked Ian to schedule our visit to this time, when I could be relatively certain workers would be moving in and out of the room. Noon was five minutes away, and I crossed my fingers someone would exit soon. As it turned out, someone entered. A man came whistling down the hall. When he reached the door, the smell of fast-food hamburgers gave away his lunch choice. I held my breath as he scanned his card and punched in the numbers. The lock clicked, and he pushed the door open. I scurried in behind him and cleared the door without having to catch it or open it farther. Unfortunately, he came to a halt sooner than I expected, and I brushed against him. I immediately shrank away, and he scanned around, startled. Please don't think there's an invisible person here. How terrible would that be to have made it this far, only to be detected now? Fortunately, magical subterfuge wasn't the first thing Alchemists turned to as a reason for anything. After a few more puzzled moments, he shrugged and called a greeting to one of his coworkers. Wade had described the room perfectly. Monitors covered one wall, flipping back and forth between different camera views. A couple of guards kept an eye on the footage, while others worked away at computers. Wade had also told me which workstation contained the files I needed. I approached it – careful to avoid any other contact mishaps. A woman was already seated at the station. â€Å"I was thinking of Thai carryout,† she told one of her coworkers. â€Å"I've just got to finish this report.† No! She was about to take her lunch break. For my plan to work, that couldn't happen. If she left, she would lock her computer. I needed it accessible for this plan to work. She was running late on her lunch, which meant I had to act now. This room wasn't exempt from surveillance. Even the watchers had watchers. Fortunately, there was only one camera. I selected an empty computer with a screen facing the camera and stood behind it. Wires and cords snaked out of the computer's panel, and the fans whirred steadily inside. I rested my hand on the panel and did one more quick assessment. The computer's back was out of the camera's view, but it would do no good if it was in the middle of someone else's line of vision. Everyone seemed preoccupied, though. It was time to act. I created a fireball – a small one. I kept it in the palm of my hand and rested it right next to the panel. Despite its size, I summoned as much heat as I could. Not quite blue, but getting there. It took effect quickly, and within seconds, the cords and panel began to melt. The scent of burnt plastic rolled over me, and smoke drifted upward. It was enough. I let the fireball fade, and then I sprinted away from the computer just in time. Everyone had now noticed the burning computer. An alarm went off. There were cries of surprise, and someone yelled for a fire extinguisher. They all rose from their chairs to hurry over and look – including the woman who'd been at the computer I needed. There was no time to waste. I sat immediately in her chair and plugged in the thumb drive. With gloved hands, I grabbed hold of the mouse and began clicking through directories. Wade hadn't been able to help much at this point. We'd just hoped finding the files would be intuitive. All the while, I was conscious of the time – and that someone might notice a mouse moving by itself. Even after they put out the fire, the Alchemists hovered around the smoking computer, trying to figure out what had happened. Overheating wasn't uncommon, but a fire happening that quickly definitely was. And these were computers that contained highly sensitive information. I felt like there were a million directories. I checked a few likely candidates, only to hit a dead end. Each time I hit a dead end, I would silently swear at the wasted time. The other Alchemists weren't going to stay away forever! Finally, after more stressful searching, I found a directory of old surveillance footage. It contained folders linked to every camera in the building – including one marked MAIN CHECKPOINT. I clicked it open and found files named by date. Wade had told me that eventually these files were cleared and moved to archives, but the day I needed was still here. The cameras recorded one frame every second. Multiplied by twenty-four hours, that made for a huge file – but not nearly the size continuous filming would create. The file would fit on my thumb drive, and I began copying it over. The connection was fast, but it was still a big transfer. The screen told me it had ten seconds to go. Ten seconds. The computer's owner could be back by then. I allowed myself another peek at the Alchemists. They were all still puzzling out the mystery. The thing about scientists like us was that a technological failure like this was fascinating. Also, it never occurred to any of them to look for a supernatural explanation. They tossed around theories with each other and started to take the melted computer apart. My file finished copying, and I sprang out of the chair, just as the woman began walking back toward it. I'd been fully prepared to risk another â€Å"ghost door† while they were distracted, but the fire alarm had summoned others in the hallway. People moved in and out with such frequency that I had no trouble holding the door open just long enough for me to sneak through. I practically ran back to the archives level and had to calm myself when I reentered the restroom. I uncast the invisibility spell and waited for my breathing to slow. The thumb drive was back in my bra, the gloves back in my purse. Studying myself in the mirror, I decided that I looked innocent enough to return to the archives. One of the scribes let me in. It was the engrossed girl, and she gave me a look that said opening the door was a waste of her time. Ian still appeared to be engulfed with work in the back, which was a relief. I'd been gone far longer than a bathroom trip would require and had worried he'd wonder where I was at. Things could've gone badly if he'd sent the girl to find me, both because I wasn't in the restroom and because she'd be really annoyed at the interruption. Over in the history section, I sat on the floor with a book picked at random, which I only pretended to read. I was too anxious and keyed up to parse the words, no matter how many times I tried to reassure myself. There was no reason for the Alchemists to suspect me of causing the fire. There was no reason for them to think I'd stolen data. There was no reason for them to think I was connected to any of this. Ian found me when the hour was up, and I feigned disappointment at having to leave. In reality, I couldn't get out of this building fast enough. He drove me to the airport and chattered nonstop about the next time we'd get to see each other. I smiled and nodded appropriately but reminded him our work had to come first and that my post was particularly consuming. He was obviously disappointed but couldn't deny the logic. The Alchemist greater good came first. Even better, he didn't try one of those awful kisses again – though he did suggest we set up some times for video chatting. I told him to email me, secretly vowing I'd never open up any message from him. I didn't relax until the plane took off, when the potential for an Alchemist raid seemed pretty low. The most paranoid part of me worried there could be a party waiting for me at the Palm Springs airport, but for now I had a few hours of peace. I'd just assumed I'd deliver the drive to Marcus and leave it at that. But now, with it in my possession, my curiosity got the better of me. I had to get to the bottom of this mystery. Was the Z. J. who'd visited the Alchemists really Master Jameson? With fresh coffee in hand, I opened the file on my laptop and began to watch. Even with one frame per second, the footage went on forever. Most of it was nothing but a quiet checkpoint, with the most exciting parts being when the guards changed position or took breaks. Plenty of Alchemists passed in and out, but relative to the overall time span, they were few and far between. Ian actually showed up once, off to start his shift. I wasn't even halfway through when the plane began its descent. Disheartened, I resigned myself to an evening of more of the same when I got back to the dorm. At least I'd be able to make some decent coffee to get me through. I was almost tempted just to push the file off on Marcus tomorrow and let him deal with reviewing it . . . but that nagging voice urging me to find out for myself won. It wasn't just because of my curiosity either. I didn't really think Marcus would fabricate anything, but if I could see for sure that – There he was on the screen. He wasn't in those over-the-top robes, but there was no mistaking Master Jameson's old-fashioned beard. He wore business casual clothing and seemed to be smiling at something a man beside him was saying. The man had a lily on his cheek but was no one I knew. Master Jameson. With the Alchemists. Marcus and his Merry Men's conspiracy had panned out. A suspicious part of me wanted to believe this was a setup, that maybe they'd altered and planted this. But, no. I'd taken it myself, off an Alchemist server. It was possible Marcus had more insiders running errands for him, but this hadn't been easy for me, even with magical assistance. Besides, why would Marcus go to so much trouble to make me believe this? If it was some twisted way to get me to join him, there were a million other ways he could have attempted it, with evidence much easier to fake. Something in my gut told me this was real. I hadn't forgotten the similarities in our rituals or how the Warriors had wanted our groups to merge. Maybe the Alchemists and the Warriors weren't best friends yet, but someone had at least humored Master Jameson with a meeting. The question was, what had happened at that meeting? Had the Alchemist in the footage sent Jameson packing? Were the two of them together right now? Regardless of the outcome, this was undeniable proof that the Alchemists and Warriors were still in contact. Stanton had told me we merely kept an eye on them and had no interest in hearing them out. Once again, I had been lied to.